Beneath the Rot

We are sick. We are crazy. We are what is wrong with this world. They will fix us. They will save us.

-The children rotting

Kamari

They tell me I’m crazy. That my mind is sick. I want to tell them that they’re wrong but I can’t because I don’t know if I’d be being honest anymore.

Every day is the same thing. The same doctor comes into the to bright room. The room with to much white. The white walls. The white lights. The floors the bed. The white clothes I’m wearing. It’s all white and bright and makes my head hurt.

The doctor of course wears nothing but white when he comes to see me. It’s almost like he’s mocking me when he comes in wearing his to white lab coat. Even his skin is to damn white. He’s practically glowing when I see him. Its like when you walk outside after is snows and everywhere you turn you’re being blinded by the sun reflecting off of the bright white powder.

I’ve decided. That is my least favorite color. I hate that color and this room and the doctors. I hate all of it. As the doctor that I HATE walked into the room he flashed a - you guessed it. To white freaking smile.

He walks up to my bed side and starts to unbuckle my wrists from the ties that keep them on the bed. He starts on the left side of my body undoing my left arm then left leg and then moving to my right to repeat the process. Then he steps back, he looks me dead in the eye and says “Good morning Kamari. I hope you slept well” The nerve. He’s like a robot. Repeating the same thing over and over. No I didn’t freaking sleep well I was tide down all night and couldn’t get up to move my blankets off me when I was to hot so I just had to lay there in my own sweat.

I sit up and dangle my legs off the side of the bed and just look at him. I hate him. He begins to read off my chart like he’s done every day since I’ve been here. It’s a simple process but it’s repetitive and it gets old. He asks stupid questions and I give him the answers he already knows.

“Name” He asks not taking his eyes off of the white fucking paper on the white fucking clipboard. “Kamari” I reply. He continues. “Sex” “female” “age” “18” “hight” “5’6” “eye color” I grumble my annoyance at the answer “white” freaking stupid sickness shit “hair color” “brown” “abnormality” “none” I look at him with pure spite. He repeats.

“Abnormality” he says. Screw him. If he gets to tie me down and force this useless bs on me then he can be dragged out of his peace just like I am. “None” I repeat. He’s not amused. I can practically feel him losing his patience.

It’s not hard to make the doctor angry. He’s a simple minded idiot with unbearable toddler like anger issues with toddler like tantrums that fallow. He looks up from his glorious paper that he’s been checking off. “Kamari” he says. “I’m only doing my job.” I squeeze the edge of my mattress and look down at my feet to try and hide my grin. He might not find this amusing. I’m sure most people wouldn’t but most people probably aren’t kept in a stupid white box all the time.

“Then find a different one because you suck at this one” I tell him. He cracks. His smile falls and he throws the clipboard at the wall behind me so hard that I feel the wind from is swish across my face.

Asshole. He then storms out, slamming my door behind him. My white door. How childish. I walk to the cracked little thing and take the paper up checking off the rest of the information. “Abnormality” I sigh “spirit speaker”

I’ve never actually gotten to look at this oh so sacred paper. He normally just yells about how useless I am and leaves me be to eat my breakfast. The stupid thing gets squeamish when I’m eating.

I look down at the paper as I finish off filling out all the useless information and making fun of the fact we had to right down all my side comments about how he sucks at his job. Then I flip to the one under it.

There’s a name.

045: Name: Killian

Subjects response “you know my name” none compliant

Sex: Male

Subject response “Ur not my type” none compliant

Age: 20

Subject response “To young for you creep” none compliment

Hight: 6’0

Subject response “If you haven’t noticed I’m not interested in ur stupid questions fuck ass” none compliant

Eye color: Red

Subject response. Silence. None compliant

Hair color: Black

Subject response. Silence. None compliant

Abnormality: Shark gene

Subject respo_

Blood. The final part of the word is covered in what I can only assume was the Doctor’s blood. How interesting. There’s multiple different sheets under this one but they aren’t filled out. There’s four. Four very empty very white sheets. All white except this one. Subject 045. Killian.

I didn’t know there were others. I thought it was only me. I take Killians blood splattered paper from the board and then slide the rest through the gap in the door. I take it back to my to white bed and I lay the only bit of color under my pillow and wait for my breakfast.

As time passes and the blood on my hands drys up I simply relax. I sit there on the floor against the wall farthest from my bed. I may hate white but I hate stains more, so keeping my bed nice and blood free other than my new found keep sake under the pillow is my plan until they come get me to wash up. I’m no longer allowed to have water in my room.

I’m allowed out of this box twice a day for restroom breaks and then technically once whenever the doctors want to check up on my health but that normally takes a longer time and only happens every couple of weeks. There are three knocks on my door. Three knocks from the one man that I don’t entirely hate in this place. I don’t know his name but he has tattoos. Colorful ones. Not white.

“Come in” I say standing and making my way to the door. Mister colors is the only one that has any respect for privacy in this place. I put my hands out in front of me as he opens the door. He puts on my cuffs and I smile up at him. He smiles back and then turns to the side to allow me to exit. Mister colors is a strange man. He always smiles back at me but he never holds a conversation.

He tells me what we’re doing but when I ask him for details about the said things we are doing he doesn’t answer. I’ve asked him many questions over the years but he doesn’t answer. I guess you could say he just gives me orders but I don’t mind. He doesn’t ask stupid questions or wear white. No. He wears black. Not a coat but more like military gear I suppose.

“I’m taking you to the lab” he says. I look back at him. Hes a tall man. A very tall man. Hes like one and a half of me’s stacked on top of each other. He has dark skin compared to the doctors. Very tan. His eyes are a pretty blue color and he has dark hair that he keeps in what the doctor calls a man bun. His tattoos run up both of his arms and down his neck, all very colorful.

His left arm is like a forest with birds and plants while his other is a desert with sand and scorpions and snakes. Then his neck is a word. I can’t read the word because it’s in a strange font but I assume it to be a name. “Are you not taking me to wash off the blood first?” I ask. He doesn’t answer so I turn my head back and he takes me to the lab. It’s quite as we walk through the to white halls of this place. It’s so very very bright.

We come to what I know is a glass door. I’ve run into it far too many times growing up here. As Mister Colors walks up to the sliding door and presses his hand on it he walks in. I fallow and watch his big muscles move in his back. He’s the only one I’ve met that has muscles like that. Honestly he’s the biggest man I’ve ever met and the only person that isn’t a doctor either.

As we walk in I can hear the machines making beeping sounds. The room is darker than the rest of the hospital. Some of the lights are busted out. Strange. As I walk down the metal stairs behind mister Colors the floor vibrates. I wander what that’s about.

“My My little Kamari you look messy” one of my doctors says.

He’s the one I hate the most. I call him mister pain. I’m not allowed to know any of there real names so I give them my own. Mister Pain is the worst doctor of all of them. I only see him when I’m brought to the lab. I don’t like the lab when he’s here. He’s grinning at me.

I don’t like that either. He makes me feel weird. Scared. Crazy. Sick. I’m here because I’m sick. That’s what he says. He’s going to make me better and then I can go home. Home. Box. My box. I miss my box. I stand there looking down at my feet trying not to see him. I don’t want to see him. He walks closer. Close. To close. I can see his feet a step away from mine.

I can smell him. Sense him. I can hear his heart beat. It loud. To loud. To loud. He takes a strand of my hair and rubs it between his fingers and thumb. “You look nice with your hair so long.” He says dropping it and putting his hand under my chin lifting my head to meet his gaze. His eyes are brown. Light brown. Like honey.

I’ve never had honey but I know I won’t like it. Not when he has honey in his eyes. “Good morning my angel. I hope you enjoyed your breakfast” he says leaning in closer. I don’t move. I hold my breath. I’m scared. I miss my box.

“Doctor Alex was kind enough to feed you today” he says with a smirk. I assume doctor Alex was the man that asks me those questions. Questions. Questions answer his questions. I blink and my breath comes whooshing out like a sigh. I’m not allowed to know there names so Doctor Pain giving me Alex’s name means one thing. He’s dead.

I continue to look up at him. The doctor. He always answers my questions even though I wish he wouldn’t. I wish he would die. I wish they would all die. “What are we doing today?” I ask as softly as possible. I don’t want him to be angry. He’s bad when he’s angry. He puts me in the bad room. I don’t want to go there.

“I’m glad you asked my dear” he says standing to his full hight. He towers over me. I don’t like it. He looks like he could crush me. He can. He will. He has. Box. I want my box. He smiles “we’re going to be doing an emergency procedure.” I look at him confused. “I thought it was just a check up.” I say. “No” he replies and that’s the last thing I hear him say before a needle is shoved into the back of my neck. All the sound left is screaming. Is that me I wonder as my vision fades farther and farther into nothing.