I own nothing. Hope you like.

Rated T for abuse, blood, mentions of attempted suicide, and torture

My life sucks it has sucked for the past ... for a while. I lost track of time. I'm not sure how long I was there. A day, a month, a week, a year, ten years? I don't know. I couldn't even tell the difference between night and day. The only thing I remember is the pain and the torture and the experiments. I shudder. I'm been experimented on constantly, I am hardly ever awake without them doing something to me, now is one of those rare times when I'm awake and not being used as if I'm some stupid lab rat. Most of the time I woke up to chemicals being pumped in my veins, or a knife somewhere on my body or something equally if not more painful.

I hated being awake. Being awake meant remembering ... then again so did being asleep. At least in my sleep I didn't have to see the white ceiling with specks of red and green on it, I don't even know how blood got up there, but somehow it did. I hated seeing the green and red that was smeared on the walls where I had tried to stand up, or where my body hit when I was thrown in the room, I hate seeing the blood puddle around me. I hated the coppery metallic smell of my blood. I hated that all I could do is lie in a puddle of my own blood. I hated that I was powerless. I hate everything in my sucky life. I hate Jake, and Maddie I knew they would never accept me and yet I trusted them. I hate Tucker and Sam, I think out of everything I hated them the most. They played with me, made me think they cared only to turn around and stab me in the back. I hated their betrayal, I should have known better than to trust them. I hate the Guys in white. I hate myself for getting caught and being so weak and stupid, for being so easily tricked. I hate my ghost powers. Most of all I hate that they won't let me die. I had tried so many times. They never let me die, yet they never let me live. I was still stuck somewhere in between.

I'm starving to the Guys in white, only feed me once a ... week? Month? Year? Not that it did much I'm still nothing but skin and bones. I'm Probably about 80 pounds now, if that. They also don't clean me or my room we are always covered in my blood. Even if they did it I wouldn't stay clean for very long, same for my room. I don't get why they don't kill me yet. They have everything they could ever want plus some. They always do the same experiments over and over and over again. Very rarely do they try something new, I hate when they do. New things always hurt the worst. I hope they don't try anything new. I shudder at the thought of something new. I hate new things. The last time they did something new I lost my right arm.

I'm strapped down to a metal table. I can feel the cold metal on my naked back. I don't wear clothes. The only clothes I wear are a pair of thin "white" underwear. They used to be white they are green, brown, and red now. There are glowing green binds around both my wrists and my ankles. One of the several scientists, dresses in white, around me comes up to me. I couldn't see his face, all I knew was that he was a guy. I don't know who he is. There are so many different "humans", if these sick twisted monsters even count as humans, that experiment on me. This scientist had a normal scalpel, normally the ones they use are covered in ecto-ranium and have a faint green glow to them, in one hand. I tense. He roughly grabs my wrist. I flinch as much as I can. My hands are in fist. He grabs my right hand and roughly pushed is against the table forcing my hand to open and my hand to be flat against the table. My fingers keep twitching."Stop moving." he commands me in a deep voice.

I try to stop moving as much as I can. My fingers still twitch some. He takes the scalpel and pushes it into the top part of my arm and drags it down to my elbow. I have to bite the inside of my cheek, which I hardly had because I bite them almost daily, not to scream. "I said don't move you stupid ghost." I go limp after that. I know better than to try to fight, fighting only makes it worse. He grabs my hand and quickly and roughly cuts off the first knuckle of my pinky finger, blood starts to trickle out of my finger until there is a large, green, and red puddle around my hand. I have to force myself not to ball my hand up. I bite down on my cheek, so I don't scream, but can't keep a whimper from escaping. My hand starts to twitch. "Let's see how good your healing is, ghost. Stop moving." The scientist hissed at me. I try to hold my hand as still as possible. The tip of my finger grew back a little? bit after that and it escalated from there. After that, it was to the second knuckle then my whole finger then two fingers then three fingers the four fingers then five fingers then was my whole hand then an inch above my wrist, then two inches then three then four then to my elbow then and inch above my elbow then two then three. They were constantly doing blood work when the cut me up like this, I don't get the point they know what I am and who I am, they have done tons of blood work on my they have tested everything there is to test. I lost my arm. I have a two inch stub for an arm now. By them my arm had looked like it was a human candy cane that a child colored in with paint, but they spilled the paint. They wouldn't let my arm close up they always kept the wound open going as far as putting metal ecto-ranium blades in my stump. It had hurt so bad I screamed until I passed out.

I've been awake for while now no one has come for me yet. Normally when I'm up I have only a little bit of time before they come to take me. I slowly start to open my eyes. I was expecting to see the bright white light that is in the ceiling ... a single lightbulb used to hang in the center of the room, but I'm no longer trusted with glass, I was so close that time too I was almost dead until they came and sewed my neck and wrist shut, and the white walls with green and red, but I'm not there anymore ... They don't have me. I'm not at the Guys in white. I'm not in my room. I'm finally out of that hell hole. I'm free. I'm really free. I can't believe I'm finally free. I don't know how. I really don't care. I don't know exactly where I am, but it doesn't matter the only thing that matters is that I'm free. Please don't let this be some kinds of drug induced dream. Please don't be just a dream.