Dark. Dank. Disgusting.
These were only a few to describe where they took me; The Cells. The Cells were, well, holding cells -like jails but with less space- where they kept stolen children, right next to a large laboratory where they studied us. But why? I didn't know.
The jail I was in had a small metal sink, a metal toilet and a rusty metal bed, reinforced by even rustier chains. It seemed like the people here were obsessed with metal. The sink was rusted and smeared with dried blood, the side was also covered in inhumane scratches. The bed was in a slightly better condition but not by much; it had a thin mattress the size of an encyclopedia that we had on a shelf at home; an even thinner paper-like blanket, with red blood splotches; and there was no pillow.
"Get up," a metallic voice rasped from the -metal- bars.
It clicked then. They were robots. Those things that killed my family were piles of metal. As I thought that, I can't help but be disgusted with myself, I didn't save them. I couldn't save them. I'd never had felt so helpless in my life.
I stood up slowly and approached the bars of my cell. Then I winced when the bars slid open with a screech loud enough to rival a banshee. Mr. Robot-man grasped my arm in a bone-crunching grip and started dragging me out of the jail cell.
I let out a yelp.
Upon reaching our destination, Mr. Robot-man shoved me into a white room.
I raced towards the closing door but was horrified to see that it slammed to a close before I could reach it.
It was all white, the walls, the floor, the ceiling, all of it was white and seemed impenetrable. The door seemed to have melted into the wall, seeing no outline of the entrance/exit.
I ran my fingers along the walls, trying to find the invisible door.
| Unknown P.O.V |
"She seems to understand that she is trapped," I observed through the clear window.
The little girl was trying to find the door to open the laboratory, running her dainty little fingers along the white walls. Tears were running down her cheeks but it was obvious that she was holding most of it in, her eyes betrayed the sorrow she was feeling.
"She has not used them yet."
"How can she?" I barked, "When she has to be seven? We have to wait two more years."
"That is too long!" Dr. Damon snarled, "We have to get rid of her!"
I slammed my clipboard down on the control panels, earning a frightened jump from Dr. Damon.
"Dr. Damon." I roared, "She is a powerful one, we cannot just simply 'get rid' of her!"
I was not terrified of the little girl hearing us, for the window was sound-proof and she also cannot see us but we can her.
"You're right," he sighed, his normally smooth forehead creased in anger aimed at himself.
I turned back to the window, watching as the girl dies.