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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1944872-VII
Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Sci-fi · #1944872
Seven, an amnisiac, battles his dreams and history's past to save humanity.
  It is dark. I feel the damp, cold air ever so slightly brush against my cheek forcing chills. I can barely see what is happening. There are two men dressed in white down to their shoes dragging me accross the moisture licked stone floor, one for each arm. my whole body is numb, dead. As I am dragged down a corridor I make out what appears to be, eight feet tall by three feet wide, cast iron doors. The sound of screams and wrustleing chains is carried on by the feint wind. the screams being caste off should never be made. In my incapacitated state I could do nothing but speculate the type of torture these belting men must be undergoing to let out such a cry, a wish and beg for death. As the drudging march down the corridor continues the dim lights faintly become brighter. I see roman numerals on the doors. III... IV... V... There is a woman in a white lab coat with a soft and eager smile on her face. Burnet hair, shifting gently with the air. ...VI... The two men carrying me stop in front of the woman in white, pale faced with ice blue eyes. "Welcom..." she greated me maintaining that soft smile. " I hope that you will make your self at home here. I feel that you will be a lovely addition to our project." she pointed to the door beside her... VII.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1944872-VII