Alpha and A81C7 ~COMPLETE~

Sleep Can Be Awful

*A81C7's POV*

All I can feel is pain, radiating through my entire body. I do not know where I am, or why, and I am completely petrified.

Fear flows through my veins, seeps into my tissue, roots itself in my bones.

I have no idea what is going on.

I open my eyes in slits, and see a blurry face across the small room. I see an IV going into my arm, with some sort of red liquid in one bag and a pale purple liquid in another bag, being pumped into my arm.

The IV port burns, like a wound being cauterized. My body feels like it is being burned alive, and frozen solid, all at the same time.

The pain just continues to get worse and worse, and I hear screams radiating through the entire room.

Pain filled, desperate, hopeless screams.

They are my own screams.

Every inch of my skin burns, every breath feels as if it is my last, every beat of my heart is like a stab to my chest, and I cannot think at all.

I must be dying. I hope I die.

Right now all I feel is pain, and I vaguely register someone entering the room.

The other face exits the room, with one flat, loud beep on the heart monitor.

The other patient in this experiment is going to the morgue.

I could be next, but that thought does not bother me. Every fiber of my body feels like it is being ripped apart, and my head feels as if someone has skewered it with a knife over and over and over.

I hear the screams get louder, more hoarse, and pleading.

Pleading for death. Pleading for mercy, pleading for someone to end the pain.

For someone to end my life.

My pleads go unanswered, and as tears stream down my face I can only hope that I am close to the end.

I am unable to even produce a single sound, my throat no longer responding. My once thrashing body has stilled, and I cannot move anything but my eyes.

I am paralyzed.

Every bone feels as if it has been shattered, every breath becomes shallower, every second feels longer.

I cannot go on like this much longer.

I try to think of something, anything. I try to do anything to lessen the pain as I stare down at my small, eight year old form with my short legs and protruding knees, my boney feet.

Staring at my malnourished body does nothing to distract me, as my thoughts grow cloudy and my vision darkens.

The pain seems to slowly lessen, and as I drift off to oblivion I wonder how many have survived this experiment.

None but you, comes the answer. I wonder how I know that, what has happened.

Do not tell them about the success. Do not tell them about this, comes the thought. My own thought, but I do not know how I know these things.

But I am now sure of one thing.

Everyone here is lying, manipulative, and I should do all I can to hide any success of their experiments.

It will protect others.

I was successful, I think, and I pass out surrounded in darkness.

I startle awake, fighting whatever hands are holding me before teleporting a few minutes distance away.

I look around, and see that I am in the forest.

Idiot! I think. I just woke up and, in my panic, teleported out of Jett's arms. I hate when I dream of that experiment, when I remember what it did to me. Gaining information was not an easy thing to obtain. It was not an easy ability to get.

I was the only one out of my entire test group that survived that experiment. There were originally 10 of us, and 7 survived until that experiment.

After that experiment, though, I was the only on in the test group alive.

Seven dead children, barely eight years old.

Our test group was not the highest risk group for nothing.

We had the most volatile experiments performed on us. The most harmful and dangerous.

It killed all of them. We were all only eight years old when that experiment was done. The first five died, and it was done on me and one other.

She died, like all the others, and I did not. I did want to, however. I was in immense, horrendous pain for months after that experiment. I could not even move.

I sat for months, on a bed, unmoving.

The pain got better, slowly improved, until it was not there at all anymore, but it took years. Long, awful years full of more experiments and sleepless nights.

I push the memories away and instead think of Amanda, Jett, and Ryker.

They probably are confused, and think I have abandoned them. I cannot even walk the entire distance back to them. My wounds have not yet healed enough.

I guess I have to teleport back. This is definitely going to slow the healing process, the execution of my most strenuous ability. There, however, is absolutely nothing that I can do about it.

I need to get back, quickly. They need my direction, and introduction to the pack. I need their help with my mobility, or I will not be back for a long while.

I concentrate and teleport back to where I was before, but instead fall down to the ground.

They have moved a few steps forward, looking around for me. Due to this, I am now on the ground.

“Jett,” I say quietly, hoping he will pick me up so I do not injure myself further.

He turns, startled, and spots my tired form lying on the ground.

“What just-” he starts to question, before I interrupt.

“Sometimes, when I am asleep and dream about the facility I grew up in. I only wake up halfway, and then teleport. It was an accident,” I explain, then yawn. I am still very tired, and I have only slept an hour. We are not back at my pack yet.

Jett picks me up, and I begin to fall back to sleep.

I vaguely hear Ryker ask something, but I do not listen to what. He must be talking to Jett anyway.

I allow sleep to consume me, trusting that this sleep will be empty, void of the terrors I experienced at New Age.