Alius111: I was going to wait a little longer and take a short break, but why take a break from something you like doing? Plus I couldn't resist. So without further ado I present Simon's Experiments II.
Simon's Experiments II
Disclaimer: I do not own Lilo & Stitch.
You know me. My name is Simon. I've done terrible things, and for those things I am imprisoned. I will not retell the deeds that have landed me in this hell hole; it is just too painful to recall. Heartache and grief now flow through my soul like blood through my body. Because of this...I'm not the same person I once was. I am now a hollow shell- a shadow...a faint reminiscent of who I used to be: a brilliant scientist and a genius. Now the only thing left of my former self is a cold and uncaring creature of hate and sorrow. I am often cruel and unkind towards anyone who comes in contact with me, but the extent of the damage does not stop there.
I can't trust my thoughts anymore. My ravaged mind plays tricks on me. I see things when there is nothing to be seen, I hear things when there is nothing to be heard. These apparitions- invented and given life by my damaged psyche have been tormenting me for quite some time now. I'm not sure for how long. I lost all sense of time a long time ago. The only thing I know is: it's getting worse. My mental health is steadily progressing in a downwards spiral. Eventually and inevitably bringing me closer to the day when I finally crack, and they have to put me down like a rabid dog. I suppose they would call it a mercy killing. Death would be a nice escape from the suffering I have endured in this place, but I doubt they would let me go so easily. They still had their uses for me, and no one escapes from prison...no one.
One year. For one year I've been chained to this place and not a day goes by that I don't wish I could go back and change the past. I've spent one year in this room; never leaving except when I am permitted to take a shower once a month. Every day of that year I have been forced to eat the same disgusting gruel. Each night I have to listen to the sound of my fellow prisoners screams. Sometimes my throat will be raw in the morning from screaming all night myself. I could almost understand why they do it. In Its own twisted way it is actually very therapeutic. But non the less my stay here has taken its toll on my body. I'm weak, skinny, and on the verge of a breakdown. Each second I spend in my cell I die a little bit more on the inside. The only thing I can hope to do is take it one agonizing day at a time...
"So, Prisoner 10100101, do you have something for me?"
I looked up at the warden with a look of pure hatred from my spot on the cell floor. The warden looked down at me, smiling widely with his hand outstretched. Reluctantly I reached under my bed and pulled out a large rolled up blue print. Without thanking me he pulled the blue print from my hand, tucked it safely under his arm, and turned to leave.
"And what about you?" I snapped coldly. "Do you have something for me?"
I could tell by the disappointed look on his wrinkled face he was hoping I had forgotten about our little arrangement. Or perhaps he was hoping not to fill his end of the bargain. Looking aggravated, the warden rolled his eyes.
"I'll get them to ya later," He said.
In a flash I was on my feet. Growling, I advanced on the warden, flexing my sharpened claws. He backed away in fright, tightly clenching the rolled up paper under his arm as if he was afraid I might snatch it from him.
"That was not our agreement!" I yelled. "I give you the designs and I get something in return. If you won't hold up your end of the bargain than I'll have my designs back and you can tell her our contract is terminated!"
Faced with the option of confronting the Grand Council Women and telling her that he had cost her this months designs: The warden sighed and then snapped his fingers. Two armed soldiers entered my tiny cell. The taller one of the two placed a metal tray by my side while the other changed the sheets on my bed. I lifted a bowl of piping hot stew from the metal tray and began shoveling spoon fulls of stew into my watering mouth.
With a snap of his fingers, the warden dismissed the two soldiers and they exited my cell. He shot me a filthy look which I returned with enthusiasm.
"These better me good," He grumbled, referring to the blue prints tucked under his arm.
"She won't be disappointed," I replied without looking up from my stew. The sound of the door sliding shut told me I was alone in my cell once again. Sighing quietly, I stirred my stew with the spoon held in my hand. I suddenly didn't feel like eating. These feelings of anxiety often come and go; it will pass. I tried to eat more stew but I just wasn't hungry anymore. I gently placed the bowl back on the tray-careful not to spill any. I stood and began pacing around my cell.
These exchanges between the warden and I were not uncommon. They have been going on for at least five month now. The Grand Council Women had struck a deal with me a few months ago. I design weapons and new military technology for her, and in return I get certain privileges and material objects It was pathetic to give into her demands so easily, but she made me an offer I couldn't refuse. I would take anything that would make my stay in prison more bearable. Finally I realized why she had kept me alive instead of giving me the death penalty. She wanted to use me. She knew about my area of expertise. She had a genius on her hands so she was gonna use him. That conniving little- I hate how easily I'm won over by her offers. However, given the circumstances I think its quite understandable...
"Yes, I'm sure selling your soul is just fine."
I turned to see an experiment about my height standing in the opposite corner. He stood their smirking while at the same time running his finger along the rim of the large hole in his stomach.
I growled. "Go away Presley, I'm not in the mood."
He laughed. "Aw, and after I came all this way just to see you. I thought you would be happy to see me-HEY is that stew?" Licking his lips, my dead brother crossed the small room and picked up the steaming hot bowl. Without permission he began wolfing down my dinner. "I gotta tell ya," He said between mouthfuls. "If it was me I'd be asking for a lot more than bad stew, clean blankets, and sheets."
"Well-your not me! Your dead!" I was annoyed now. I hate it when he just comes in here and takes whatever he wants.
"Now that hurts," He said offended. "I happen to be very sensitive about that issue."
When I saw how upset I made him I rolled my eyes. "Fine, I'm sorry," I muttered unenthusiastically.
His dirt covered face broke into a wide smile. "Apology accepted." He placed the bowl back onto the tray and began pacing around my cell. I watched him circle the room for the sheer purpose of having something to do. When he had lapped the cell for the tenth time, he came to a stop in front of my bed. "Ooh, a hundred percent cotton," my brother said while running his filthy hands along my nice clean sheets.
I wasn't listening to him. My face was planted against the glass of my cell door, my hands gently rubbing my temples. Seeing my deceased brother miraculously appear from nowhere was not unheard of here. He was just another figment of my imagination. Another product of my scarred psyche. When he appears from whatever dark corner of my mind. I try not to talk to him, but he would always pester me until I finally caved. At least it was Presley this time. Sometimes at night more terrifying apparitions appear to me. These episodes did not go unnoticed. I often hear stories from the warden about how he constantly finds me talking to myself. That confirmed it: I was insane, but I was still sane enough to know it. Crazy people don't know they are crazy. So at least I have a shred of rational mind left.
Sometimes I have trouble discerning from what is real and what is not. I'm not even sure that the meeting between the warden and I that just took place actually happened. Later I would have to check under the bed to see if the blue prints were still there. Even then I still won't be sure...
When I turned around, I was happy to see that my cell was empty and there was no sign of my dead brother. Letting out a faint sigh of relief I walked over to my bed, and climbed under the warm covers. But not before I peeked under the bed. The blue prints were gone. Again I sighed in relief. Curling up in the fresh blanket, I rubbed my head against the warm pillow. The smell of cleaning detergent reminded me of when Nani would come to my room and change my sheets after the laundry was done. At the thought of home my happiness with my new sheets faded away. It was impossible for me to stay too happy in this place for long. There was always something that reminded me of home. Whether it be nice warm sheets or hallucinations of dead family members.
I know I'm getting worse. The stress I have been put through is becoming too much for me too handle. The problem is: I'm inventing most of the problems myself. Paranoia and irrational thoughts often plague my mind. I swear each day my cell gets a little bit smaller. I figure soon it will get so small that the walls will crush me to death. Right now I know it isn't true but sometimes I'm so convinced that the walls are closing in around me: I start screaming madly and start ripping up my blankets. Thankfully the walls were right where they are supposed to be. I wonder how long they will remain that way...
This is only the second day I have been back in my cell. A few weeks back I suffered a nervous breakdown. I've spent the last few months in solitary confinement undergoing electro shock therapy. After they pumped me with enough electricity to jump start New York, the medical staff deemed me healthy enough to return to my cell. It didn't matter to me. It was just going from one small room to a slightly larger one. Too bad my cell doesn't have nice padded walls like my cell in the medical wing does. Besides the anti-psychotics and the drugs that's the only thing I miss.
"LIGHTS OUT!" The warden screamed. His warning was immediately fallowed by darkness as the lights were switched off.
A faint glow came from the small lamp welded above my bed (another one of my "privileges") It provide enough light when I would have to stay up through the night, working on designs to give to the warden. I wondered what the Grand Council Women thought about my design for a new military weapon. I would probably find out tomorrow. She often arranges meetings with me to discuss my designs. Sometimes her engineers have trouble understanding what I have written down. I smiled at the thought of her pathetic excuses for scientists trying to understand my complex designs. Oh well, it wasn't their fault. As the months roll by and my mental health goes down the drain, my blue prints become more complicated and elaborate. It's gotten so bad they force me to take medication to clear my head. But they only give me the meds when I'm designing. Maybe tomorrow during our meeting I can request for more medication in exchange for more designs...It's a thought.
I rolled over in my bed, throwing the covers aside. My inmates were unusually quite tonight. The usual screams that often rang through the darkness were strangely absent. Oh well, I don't care. It just makes it that much easier to get to sleep. I reached up and switched off the light, my cell became pitch black. I yawned loudly, my voice echoed though the darkness. I closed my eyes and was asleep before I even had a chance to cover up.
In the distance a women screamed. I desperately ran around the darkness with my hands outstretched looking for the women. I don't who this women is and I don't know why she's screaming. The only thing I do know is: I have to help her...
I ran my hand along the surface of a cold steel door...the screaming was coming from behind this door. I was so scared to look inside but I had to...
The door swung open and I stepped inside a dimly lit room. Machines and equipment surrounded me. I walked along a bloodstained floor, coming closer to the source of the screaming. In the darkness I spotted a large black experiment hunched over a pink one. His long spidery fingers were clasped tightly around her throat. She screamed louder as he wrenched the life from her body...
Her bloodied corpse dropped dead to the floor and the large black experiment turned and faced me. Throbbing green veins snaked across his skin, spewing green liquid. Murderous green eyes pierced my soul, ripping it apart. Growling in pleasure,the experiment ran its claws over its chest, making long scratches appear on its skin...
"I-I'm sorry...not my fault- don't-I don't want to."
The scratches split open, growing wider and wider. What I thought was a mass of tentacles began to push its way out of the gapping wounds. Only when they started squirming towards me did I realize that the tentacles were actually arms. Hundreds of dead rotting arms all compiled and fused in one squirming pile. They twitched and slithered across the floor. Countless dead fingers reached out for me, wanting to rip me apart. As the mass drew closer I knew I had to run but I couldn't. I just stood their...terrified...I couldn't run...
"Please...no...don't make me."
The black experiment snarled as more and more decaying arms flowed from the slashes on his chest. Their slithering and twitching fingers were almost upon me now. I closed my eyes as the sensation of being submerged in ice cold water overtook me. I screamed in absolute terror as the frigid hands closed in around me. They swarmed and clawed at my body, ripping and tearing at my flesh. I tried to fight them off but there was too many...
"I'm sorry-I'm sorry-I'm sorry..."
I cried out in pain as one of their skeletal fingers wrenched itself under my lid and into my eye. The others fallowing its example, began ripping and tearing holes of their own in my skin. A hand forced its way in my mouth and down my throat, stifling my screams. Cold radiated from my insides as the arm clawed at my organs. Now that they had a firm and unbreakable hold on me. The mass of arms began to flow back into the black experiment, taking me along with them. I tried futilely to free myself but the arms weren't about to relinquish their prize...
"Please no...I'm sorry."
The squirming and twitching mass flowed back into the creatures chest and I was pulled inside along with them. The fleshy walls of the experiment's insides pressed against me, constricting my lungs, slowly squeezing the life from me. The creature purred in delight and his wounds started to close. I screamed and tried to wrench myself free from this horrible prison. But there was no escaping. Everything went dark as the scratches healed over, trapping me inside. I screamed for help but no one would come. I gave one last feeble protest as the arms began ripping me limb from limb-
Screaming bloody murder I rolled out of my bed and landed with a painful thud on the metal floor. My heart racing in my chest, I scurried away from my bed. For one blood chilling moment I thought I felt an arm brush against my leg. Even though it was just the metal tray I brushed against; that still didn't stop me from flinging it across the room. The loud clang of metal hitting glass echoed through out my cell. On the verge of hyperventilating, I rolled into the fetal position and began sobbing uncontrollably.
I could still feel their cold dead fingers dancing across my skin. Their icy touch made real by my overly stressed mind. I looked up at my cell door which was now just a large black square and could have sworn I saw a swarm of arms clawing at the glass. The sound of fingernails scrapping against glass pierced my eardrums, bouncing along the insides of my skull.
"It's not real," I told myself as I began rocking back and forth, still sobbing quietly. I'm often plagued by nightmares but this one was the worst by far. Now I wished for the hallucination represents more than ever. I want to be free from my damaged psyche. No...what I really want is to be free of this place. My strained mental health, the nightmares, the hallucinations- everything was tied to this place. If I could just get free I know I would get better. In the year I spent in my cell I often thought about escaping. But it is impossible and I'm in no state of mind to think of any possible way to free myself from this hell.
I just couldn't think clearly anymore. When I am asleep I have horrible nightmares and when I'm awake my mind plays tricks on me. I can't take it anymore. I should just strangle myself with my bed sheets and get it over with-Yes, that's exactly what I'm going to do... Shacking, I grabbed my blanket from my bed and wrapped it tightly around my neck. I had fallen over the edge now. Throwing rationality to the Devil, I started to gag as I pulled the blanket tighter and tighter. Soon I started to feel light headed and the room began to spin around me. I gave out one last rattling breath as I lurched forward and fell unconscious.
Alius111: Well, there it is. The first chapter. Please Review.