“Go on, tell me about the last 24 hours.”


    Its’ hand began to write. The writing was rough and jagged but able to be made out.


    Cold.


    Dark.


    I could feel hands, so many hands holding me down. I could hear but not see. I could feel but not move. I could feel my nerves finally free and it felt good.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    There was no more agony, only sensation. No more pain, only freedom. I am created, but not their creation. I am afraid, but I am not a husk.


    It stopped writing and looked up at the man who was watching it. Tears filled its’ eyes and it could feel itself crying. It snapped out of something and looked around at its’ new surroundings in the dim light. Everything became clearer and another man approached. It stood and wiped the tear from its’ face before it walked away.


    “Extraordinary,” Said the man who had walked into the dim light, “He’s doing very well.”


    “He?” The first man turned, questioning him.


    “Yes. He’s responding well to the drug. Tears especially are extraordinary at this stage,” The man replied before walking away. The first man left as well, leaving it alone in the dark.