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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Sci-fi · #2115316
The difference a point of view can do...
Why do they do this to me?

Always keeping me closed alone, locked out from my family, from those who I could call friends? Everyday they try something different, everyday it's the same process.

They grab me from the place that I'm starting to call home. It is my prison but I've lived here for such a long time that I have almost forgotten what the meaning of the word 'Home' is. They grab me and restrain me, forcing me to follow their lead toward that place with transparent walls, that...torture chamber, where they test me, placing me under careful observation.

Watching my every move until they finally decide to try a new to make me suffer. They're using me as their little lab rat, trying to create new way to kill me and those like me. New gases, new ointments, Always something new which only purpose is to make me suffer.


The pain, the unbelievable pain that follows me after their tests. There is nothing, Nothing, that I can use to compare the terrible pangs that wrecks me to my core. But even when the tests pass, the pain does not. And I know that hey are here, for I have seen them, watching me closely as the time passes, anxiously awaiting for my anguished cries of pain and torment.

And I can't do nothing more than give them what they want.

So I cry

So I scream

But the pain never pass, it keeps tormenting me but I know that if I was to fight back they would just inflicts me more pain, more torment.

I pray to any gods as to bring my rest. Even eternal rest, but it doesn't work like that. And from my cell I see many others, just like me, suffering with unhearded cries, as our tormentors seems to delight in our demise.

------

It can't continue like this.

I've been trying to do what they want me to do, but they keep coming at me.

Those horrible creatures that covers themselves in white, or in light blue, or even in yellow. But there is no difference between them all. They all want the same thing, they all act the same way.

Pain.


No, it can't continue like this. This has got to stop.

I've got to show them, I've got to fight back and no matter the consequences. I know there are others like me outside this prison, free to roam and explore the world, enjoying the life as we know of it.

And if I have to fight my torturers to get free and live the life as it was meant for me, then so be it.


I'll let them know my name.

Ebola.


They'll learn to fear it.

And their world shall be changed forever...

© Copyright 2017 E-Brony (sick-o-brony at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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