Nightmares are made of such things : The monster you created

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Nightmares are made of such things : The monster you created.

*********

I lay awake on my bed most nights, trying to figure out the noise in my head…

Sometimes they are loud, like clapping sound bars. Sometimes they are silent yet speaking. . But never sane.

My name is Bianca… and sometimes James …. but that doesn’t matter.

This is my story.

I was four years old when I realised that strange look in mother’s eyes. When she stared at me, her eyes pooling. She had taken me to the white house..where everyone wore a  white cloth that smelled of antiseptic and wore shoes that had no stains and carried thick wires around their necks and they write funny. 
For some strange reason they seemed all too farmilar, ..they knew my name and smiled sadly when they looked at me.

Mother held my hand , cooing softly into my ears as I laid on that cold bed, and I felt cold steel to my chest and then I slowly slip into conciousness…

When I awake I remember nothing…

I was twelve years old when I woke up with sweats breaking all over my body..
And then something else..
My vision had blurred and I felt a protruding at my back…I couldn’t reach it but it hurt…it hurt so bad..
I began to scream..

Mother came. Mother always comes during my nightmares. ..
And yet again..

We are back at the White House. . Their geeky looks, bespeckled glasses and cold steels..
And unintelligible words that I can’t make sense of..but this time they didn’t have a sad smile in their eyes..
They were…strangely excited. Awed.
I wondered if I had done something good.
But I was hurting…. couldn’t they see it..

Mother held my hand…cooing softly into my ears..
I just don’t feel somthing cold to my chest..but something sharp..peircing my side…something liquid, something red. Something cloated and thick. ..
Mother says it’s okay..
Then I hear that banging sound in my ears, I see all of them stare into my face..
The cold bed..
The white house
The white cloths and smell of antiseptic..
And then I slip into consciousness

I was 20 years old when I had another episode..
I pain I fell to the ground. .crawling to regain my composure..
But something was different.. as soon as the pain came, in all its excruciating ways.. it slowly faded.
Like I embraced it . I welcomed it. I became pain..and then I didnt feel it anymore..

Mother rushed in hearing the thud to the ground. But when she got here.. I had gotten up to the bed, she stood at the foot of my bed and held my hand.
I knew what that meant, to the white house.

But I had never asked her why..
And when I did, she looked away. Never saying a word.

Mother was beautiful. Her long mane of a black hair flowed down to her waist.  Her hair smelled of sunflower and her chicks always looked flushed. But the sadness in her eyes had always remained. But today she wore her heart on her sleeves…

She held my hands , and I knew where we were  headed to..but this time she didn’t go in with me..she stood at the door,…telling me it’s going to be okay. But it sounded as though she was saying goodbye. .

I laid on the cold bed. I couldn’t close my eyes because mother’s voice, sweet voice wasn’t cooing me to sleep.  They stood around me..white coats…antiseptic smell and geeky glasses. They had their sharp instruments and cold steel pressed to my chest, my side and then my head.
Cold iron to my wrist and feets..

“Mother??”

They have never bound me before. …
Today their eyes sparkled. Today they were a few more people in the room.. with white fluorescent lights..
And then my head began to bang…bang bang bang..
Mutilate split headaches..
Sweats..
Red thick cloated blood…
screams. ..screams….
Lights flashed into my eyes..

“Mother??!!
“Mother “”

Then I heard the voices in my head that never goes to sleep..

“Subject 213..activated..
Subject 213…successful. .

“Cells fully regenerated…
Sensitively and emotional status intact…
Reaction to light and bodily contact..
Subject 213 actively successful. .
Proceed to terminate and regenerate cells for subjects 214-300 still born.
Subject 213 is at an age disadvantaged. Proceed to inject still born. …The key formula has been successfully achieved. ”

“Mother??”
“Where is mother…
What does that mean??”

But they don’t answer.  No one does. I feel hurt. Red lights burning through my skin…more blood.
Melting skin…

“MOTHER!!!”
“THEY ARE KILLING ME!!!!”

As though she hears, she bursts through the doors…
Joy..that joy escapes from my lips..
My calvary. My saving Grace.  My mother. .
Mother is always there..to save me. She never leaves me..

She comes to my side, they step away from me..
“My hands..my legs…I can’t move mother..unbound me.. let’s go from here. ..” I cry
Mother nods..

Mother always listens. .mother loves me.
But mother stares Into my eyes..and smiles sadly..
But something was strange..
Mother’s hair wasn’t long and black nor did it smell of sunflower.
Mother’s cloths were white…but wasn’t it a plaited dress earlier..
She smelled of antiseptic and wore a thick steel wire around her neck. .
Plastic rubbers for hands and her feets were covered…
And she began to sing sweetly…

“No!!”
I shook my head.. fighting the sleep. Fighting the claws that threatened  to sink me into another slumber..
The more I fought…The more the lullaby sank in..

“Pierce the heart now….end it while it sleeps”… she says to the other…

And then my eyes shuts tight..but I don’t sleep…I remember. …
Everything comes back to me..

When I was 12 years old..
When I was four..
And when I was much younger. ..and all the years  and memories gone..

I have no name. I am not even a person..identified as one… I bare both resemblance but..
Never have I seen my face..
And mother wasn’t a mother…
And I was just another test run…
Successfully achieved. …but a sacrificial lamp to birth others like me..more human maybe. More sane..more lethal.

Do I let it…
Do I let them win
Do I die…
Or become what I am
Embrace it..
The monster they created…and let them have a taste of what they made?

I stopped struggling. I stopped letting the pain envelope me. I stopped thinking.
I.Just.Stopped.

But so did every other thing.
The sounds and voices in my head.
Silence. ..

And when I opened my eyes…

I saw liquids..
Red, thick cloated blood..everywhere.

But this time …
They weren’t mine.

I wish I could ask them what happened. .

But we know the dead never tell tales..
And I am one never to tell a secret ..
Especially one I had no idea how it was written.

I left the white house..
But it wasn’t so white anymore
But mother laid there on my bed instead…and the others too slept.
😈😈😈
.
.
.
.End.

#Sweetness💋 #Allthingsfinery
#TheSweetPerspectives
#iwritethesweetspectives
#IAmSweetness

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