I could hear their cackles, the screech of their horrible laughter. I hated it. Everything about them smelled of cold medicine, their hair short, and neat, it disgusted me.
The way their eyes would gleam when they looked at me, it never failed to make my skin crawl.
The way they touched me, their cold plastic covered fingers lingering in my skin. The way they leaned in; hot minty breath all over my face and body, thin lips drawn back in smirks.
They knew I was powerless, I was nothing, was; past tense.
I couldn't help but let a small smile lift my lips.
Those hideous, leering eyes filled with terror; it made me want to smile wider.
My mouth however, immediately screamed in protest; so unused to this kind of flexing of muscles.
Today was the day of my execution, again was; meaning it somehow turned into something else.
A miracle? Perhaps, today is now the day of my release.
My release from the Federal State Prison Institution for the Mentally Insane, but I'm not dancing victory yet, I know my freedom has a price, maybe even a time limit.
I do have to wonder, what do they want?
What do they want from me, after all these years I would have thought they would have forgotten I even existed?
What, what could it possibly be?