Servitude

I sat staring at the one-way mirror spanning the whole front wall, watching the people walk past. Just like I did every morning. I have, in fact, been doing this every morning since I was five. At least that's the age I have convinced myself I was. But who knows!

I used to wonder where they went and what they did. But after many years of pondering the same question with no answers, I started to forget all about that and just watched the people.

It's crazy that I have watched them so long but I have never once learnt anything about them. Seeing as it is only a corridor, people never stay long enough to have a conversation, so I guess I never really saw the point.

At roughly the age of six I had worked out, it was a one-way mirror or, to them, just a mirror. This was because people would come up to it, smile then fix their hair and clothing.

I tried to scream to get their attention many times, but it never worked.

They never heard me.

Even though I couldn't speak to them, I could try and guess what they would say. I remember I use to play this game where if someone spoke I would try copy them and mimic what I thought their voices sounded like. They would say some very weird stuff!

I don't think I was the best lip reader in the world.

One thing that I have learnt though, is that this room is special, as nobody can see in, and no voices can travel through it. In fact, the only voices I have ever heard are my own and the voice of my holders.

The holders are well... just look at the name.

My holders.

They hold me here.

I have never seen their faces as they wear masks covering them. It seems they like to be mysterious because they even cover themselves in black clothing so they all look identical. But they do talk. Usually, It's only a few sentences like.

'Sit.'

'Stand.'

'Clean.'

'Food.'

I guess you could say they are not so much sentences just words.

When I was a kid, I used to try and talk to them, but after a while, I just accepted that I wasn't going to get any kind of response.

It's been very lonely living day in and day out by yourself. It would be nice to have a conversation, but I have never had anyone to talk too.

No friends.

No family.

Just me.

I like my company, but I still get lonely, especially watching the people walking along, smiling and laughing. I want that. I've never had anyone to care for, but as I watched relationships grow through this window, it made me wish I did.

I sometimes wonder if there were others like me. Others that had to sit in their rooms all day without social interaction. If there were others with cuffs on their arms and ankles that tightened every time they so much as thought of stepping out of the doors.

You see, I am a test subject.

I think?

I have been at this facility for as long as I can remember. I know I have been here my whole life because this place is the only place I know. Even that's not much to go off as I don't remember much from my early childhood. If I try too, I just get blurry visions with flashing lights, and sometimes I even get stinging pains all over my body. It's not a nice feeling, so I try not to reminisce too much.

But if I do look back my first ever memory is of me inside this locked room. I don't know why, but I haven't left since. It's not that I don't want to. It's just I can't.

You'd say why would you? After all, I have everything I need right here. A bed that sits against the cold grey back wall, a cramped desk I have barely ever used, a toilet which has definitely seen better days with its sharp edges and a lime scaled covered shower.

I don't have a kitchen, but I do have a door that a holder brings my food through three times a day.

But sometimes I wish I had more. I have thought at times a mirror would be nice because after all my time here, I still don't know what I look like. I have guessed so far that I am at least five foot ten. This was just from measuring up against the window people and even then I'm guessing.

I definitely have long brown hair as I can't count the amount of times I've had to clean it up. And the length must be nearly fifteen inches I've caught it on enough things to know that I must keep plaited, as it's never been cut. But that's all I know. I don't even know what colour eyes I have.

On the plus side, I was getting lessons every day up until the age of eighteen, but they stopped.

I know that in some places, people get taught by humans, but not me. I had a robot. I can remember it blowing up a few times but other than that it taught me everything you are taught at school, such as Maths, Science and English. Which I wouldn't say was fun, but at least it was something.

So for the last two years, I have been twiddling my thumbs.

I keep wondering if I'll ever leave this room and join the others, but every time I ask, I am met with silence.

You are probably thinking, why doesn't she just escape but you see, this has never been an option. After all, I have nowhere to go; the only place I know is here. Where would I even start, and once I was out, what would I do. I don't know anything. For now, I'm here, and dreaming of one day leaving is the only thing that keeps me sane.

To be fair to the people who have locked me up, they have given me some things to entertain myself with. I have art supplies, books and puzzles; they are all black and white, so they are not exactly the most exciting things to do. But they are something. Thankfully they get replaced every few months, but other than that, it's just a dark grey room with furniture.

I used to hang my art up, but after a while, I had nothing to draw; there are only so many ways you can draw a grey room.

As for why I am here I'm not sure but I know I have powers; I can feel them. I just can't recall a time I have ever used them. I know that every person that has walked by my window has powers because I've seen them.

Sometimes they would float things in mid-air or set fire to random objects. I have even seen a few human-like shapes blur by my window. I must have seen every power under the sun, yet I know I hold something different.

I must do, or why else would I be locked away while they lived out there.

And today like any other the people out the window were showing off and chatting with one another. I found I wasn't very interested in their lives today, so after a few hours of watching the people, I got bored. Instead, I started my morning exercises, which consisted of running on the spot with a few crunches and press-ups.

It's not much, but I know that I need to stay fit just to keep my sanity. Which I doubt I'll have for too much longer if I stay in here.

Just when I was about to jump in the shower, I heard the door. I was going to ignore it like I usually did, but when I heard at least three people's footsteps enter the room, I decided to leave my bathroom and have a look.

When I got out, I saw two holders and a tall thin blonde woman with the face I could only describe as pigeon like. Even though I don't have much face-to-face interaction, nothing about her sudden appearance made me like having her here.

Her presence was unsettling, and I wanted her out of my face as soon as possible. I was just about to ask why they were here when the pigeon lady spoke.

"Daisy P." The minute she said my name, I stopped studying her and looked into her dark black eyes.

I've always liked my name. Even though I have never seen a real flower, I have seen pictures from my teaching, and I always thought it was a nice name to be given. But the P on the end I have never understood. It has nothing after it, just a P.

"We need your help." At those words, my eyes widened, and my jaw nearly left my face.

They need me. I was never needed. After all, why was I left here all these years if I was needed? I wanted to say something, but my voice had gone.

I wasn't sure if it was due to not speaking much or to the sudden shock of being needed.

After a few long minutes, I finally found the words. "Why do you need me?"

The lady gave me a once-over from head to toe and then looked to the holder on her right completely ignoring my question.

"Why don't you fix her up into some different clothing and make her presentable. Then bring her to me in my office once you're done." With a nod from the holder, she was out with not so much as a second glance in my direction.

I wasn't complaining; I was glad I no longer had to see that pigeon-like face, at least for now.