Month 26 of captivity and still no way out. I've looked everywhere the staff lets me roam and I haven't found anything that will help me. No slightly rusted bars of metal that cover the small windows, no doors ajar that lead to the outside, though that wouldn't really help me. Outside boasts nothing but snow.
I guess I should hate the snow. It's the thing keeping me trapped in this evil place, preventing me from breaking out and stealing a boat. I should despise the very sight of it, but I can't bring myself to come anywhere close. It's so happy and light and free. Everything I'm not. I'm jealous of the snow, envious. It dances in the air while I'm forced to sit in the corner of my room, my cell.
But I don't hate it. It's been my constant companion, the one normal thing I have left. Sometimes I think I see people through the dense swirl of fluffy flakes, only to realize it's a passing cloud or a fallen tree branch. The white crystals beckon and whisper, promising an escape from my very real nightmare. Sometimes I dream of the snow, the white abyss, the cold...
The Doctor saws I've been 'adapting nicely.' Whatever the hell that means. If he thinks he's got me conditioned to actually enjoy my stay here, than he's got another thing coming to him.
It's hard to keep track of the escape count, but something tells me it's up to about 6 now. The last one would have worked if the janitor hadn't found me in the supply closet last night. He even took back the research lab key I had stolen. Now I'm restricted to Wing A as they call it. All it is is the hallway my room is in in addition to the small sitting room where I'm taught 'manners.'
The lady they have instructing me is a piece of work. She's tiny; I'm only 12 and already a head taller than her. When I mentioned that fact she whipped out her yardstick and smacked me across the forehead. The mark lasted a whole week. She's got a wicked temper which she isn't afraid of showing when she deems I'm not paying attention.
I don't see why they bother teaching me these things when their experiments are still happening. Afterwards, I just want to lay down and die but they have cameras in my room so I can't try anything. Being forced to live is more painful than I imagine dying would be.
Since my psychotic episode, as everyone seems to call it, I've been prescribed lots of different pills and medications. The names of some of them are ridiculous. Resperidone, Zoloft, Prozac, Depakote. The bottles don't say what their for which doesn't really help at all.
It's become so bad I actually look forward to the times when Viper takes me back out to sea. At least I'm not choked to the point that I lose consciousness or strapped to an electric chair, or pumped so full of drugs I can't get out of bed. Though sailing with him is a different kind of torture.
His crew leers at me. Everywhere I go, I feel their stares following me. Sleeping is terrifying as well. I could get raped at any moment if I'm not careful. I don't have a personal room onboard so I sleep in Viper's personal quarters. That really isn't any better, but at least he hasn't made any advances...yet.
I'm still a virgin. I just don't know how long I'll be able to claim that.
Since Viper brought be back to the lab a week ago, I'll be staying for awhile. The Doctor mentioned something about more prolonged testing, so it may be longer than usual. Yippee…
The weirdest thing happened after I got back from another trip with Viper. The Doctor smiled at me. He genuinely smiled. Not once since my initial arrival has he done that for real. I actually had to stop dead and stare at it, just to be sure it was real. It was gone before I knew it, so I don't know if I even saw it at all.
He's been nicer lately, letting me explore different parts of the place. This small freedom is enough to keep me sated for now, I suppose. I'm not sure if he doesn't know that I'm looking for escape routes or if he's just confident that I won't find any. The latter is my guess, he's too observant to see past my blatant dislike of this place.
Whatever it is that's got him so positive, I'm not complaining. He's a lot easier to deal with when he's not looking at me in disapproval and ordering the next round of tests.
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