Let's see if I've gotten any better at this
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Lost, drifting, and devoid of purpose.
These were the words and phrases that would best describe my experience with life so far, especially since I was put in the foster system. It was fire station drop off situation for my parents I guess.
From home to home and family to family, it was really just me going through the same mopey motions day to day. Counting down the days until I wouldn't have to worry about some fraudulent family and just live. To be someone more than the one people pity when they hear where you came from.
Except when that day came I quickly realized that nothing had changed but the scenery, there was no grand calling that came to me or innovation that peaked my interest. Just more monotonous work as a laborer for someone who cared more about cutting corners than work place safety and proper pay.
Higher education was out of the question for me, the second it wasn't necessary anymore I had no more support. Can't say I blamed the last pair, they had experienced the worst of my laziness and probably saw no point.
So now I'm here working for some shitty building company that seemingly thinks OSHA rules are suggestions.
Which, for the record, was the reason for my current predicament, trapped beneath a steel beam as crimson ichor spilt over my chin. The shock had knocked any concept of pain from me when it fell. My entire chest had gone concave and I can feel the splinters that were once my ribs split to and fro within me. There were no recoveries from this.
Now all that was left was the frigid feeling of my plasma leaving me, and a burning sensation of regret.
This is what I had waited so long for ? My so called freedom breaking my back day in and day out for someone who can't even make sure the scaffolding is screwed together 100%? Who wouldn't even know my name without a file in front of him ? That's the mark I'm leaving?
The screams and panic of the men around me trying to help pry the multi ton beam from off of me were mute to my senses, drowned out by a deep rooted embarrassment and self loathing.
A wide rose colored puddle was forming around me on the floor as I felt what was left of my lungs filling with fluid.
Born a statistic and I'm gonna die one too, huh? My usual stress induced sarcasm had fell and all that was left was the self deprecation of a dying man.
'What a waste of air I am…'
'This life was such a shitty joke. Never even got laid.'
And that was the lost thought I had.
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Cold and trapped were the first things I felt as my eyes opened again, then the shock.
I had just died.
There wasn't a single doubt in my mind that I had lost most of my organs and my body had been turned to a chunky paste. No one survives their heart and lungs being crushed like that.
I awoke in a dusty carhartt hoodie and jeans laid out on a medical bed in a room that looked like it jumped from a horror book.
And past that I couldn't even discern where I was.
Bloody smudges marred the walls, medical instruments just as crimson were strewn about on surgical tables. Whatever clinic this was sure wasn't known for their hygienics.
Dim fluorescent bulbs littered around the room, most off with the random 1 or 2 here and there switched on. Still blind as a bat down here with the lack of windows and all. What hell had happened to me and what is that smell?
After a few moments of gathering my bearings the small odor I had been smelling since I got here slowed developed into something much more overpowering. And familiar.
A putrid smell that reminded me of road kill and rust. One I had only smelt once before when moving a deer body from the road or delivering to a meat processing plant. The stench of decay was waftkng from a large crate in the corner of the dark room, much stronger than my previous encounter with it.
I didn't have to take more than five steps to see what it was in the faint lighting of the room.
Corpses.
Human corpses, dozens of them filled the box like a fucked up lego set.
Arms, legs, heads and bodies of all races and ages were strewn about , mainly women and children. All taken apart in one way or another, chest cavities cleaved open and skull's seemingly labotomized and left in two half's.
An extreme wave of nausea flooded me as I tried and failed to stop the bile rising in my throat. Key word failed
*Bleghhh* A fresh stain hit the floor to add to the decor of this disgusting place.
I need to leave here. NOW.
But curiosity is a morbid thing and it's pull can be as strong as gravity at times. What else would fill such a place of horrors and what was the reason for all this madness.
So I started looking through boxes, trying my hardest to burn the image of the bodies in that box out of my head. At first all I found were medical files, way too few to match how many people were dead in here. Most of the files were titled DOA.
Then boxes of what looked like bulky injectors of some sort were the next I filed through, combing for something with some semblance of an answer as to what's going on here.
I had no idea what was useful all I knew is that they were pharmaceuticals of some kind based of the chemical names plastered on their outside, one being a Bounceback mk.3 , the other four being Maxdoc mk.2's.
I don't know what they did but they seemed useful and worse comes to worse I have something to sell when I get out of here, wherever here is.
I continued rifling, ignoring the growing unease that I would be next and end up meeting whatever sickos had went all hack and slash on those people in the corner.
Until eventually a large white crate caught my attention, it was unusually clean in a room that looked like cleaning was a forgotten verb.
Lifting up the large dumpster sized lid on top of it what was inside was so confusing I could feel my eyes dialating trying to discern what I was looking at. What looked like hundreds of high end computer or maybe car parts littered my vision.
The only difference is it wasn't oil coating some of these parts, it was blood.
A cold sweat broke out across my back as all the pieces clicked together for me.
The disgusting interior that looked like no one was operated on willingly, the barely cleaned medical tools, the files that only showed a fraction of the faces that were in that crate yet all were supposedly dead when they got here. The way it looked like the bodies were harvested.
Because they had been. These people had been dismantled for old parts like a car left in a lot too long.
This was horrible, how could anyone do this to another human being? To kids who barely knew right from wrong?
The very thought of such a person profiting off of this sickened me to my core. My hands were now stifling through the bloody tech grabbing anything pocket sized and stuffing it into my jeans and hoodie.
I stopped for a moment when a certain piece caught my eye, a small predominantly black piece, around the size of a USB. What had drew my attention was the faintly glowing purple ghost like sigil on it.
I picked it up to examine careful not to get any blood on me, well anymore my hands were soaked as well as my pockets. I probably looked like a haunted house reject right now but whatever. I stuffed the little thing and my pocket and grabbed the last few things that seemed pocketble.
I looked back at the pile in the corner and felt the heft of my pockets sag heavier. He wanted to do something for them so they didn't rest like they were simply used livestock, but I didn't have the time, I still need answers on where I am and how and how I'm getting the fuck out.
I snatched up a scalple and a small bone saw that had definitely helped do horrid things to people but would for now be my protection, and set off for the steps that had been waiting for me in the corner of the room.
Step after step I climbed the stairs hoping that nothing awaited me behind the door atop them.
Apparently that was too good to hope for, as when I got the top, serrated edge in hand and opened the door…
*SWISH*
An overweight man wearing goggles, a blue bonnet, an apron with no shirt on and doctors scrubs from the waste down spun from his office chair at my intrusion.
" WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" He put a hand to his head in a panicked fervor and ordered to seemingly no one,
"Security! Room B-2 we gotta live one!"