
Brooke let out a agonized scream as the wretched doctors shot a thousand bolts through her already exhausted body. The flame in her hands flared until they were reached five feet in the air, reflecting her pain and flickering desperately. The electricity receded suddenly and Brooke bowed her head, body shaking and stuttering breaths racking her body as she felt numbness and shock rush. Tears streamed down her face and the only thing she could say was, "Why?" Why were they doing this to her? Why did she and others similar to her have to go through this? This wasn't humanity and this wasn't science. It was torture, a gruesome series of tests to see just how far their "special patients" could go before they reached their limit. And each test was worse than the last.
"Dip her in the ice water. See how long she can retain fire afterwards." Her "doctor" said to his nurses, a wicked and somewhat maniacal grin sliding across his face. In this section of the Asylum, he was the boss and Brooke was his favorite patient. She felt herself being lifted, but didn't struggle. Struggling only brought more pain. But that didn't mean she had given up. No. Everyday she suffered, the more the will to survive and break out, to be free again, coursed through her veins. She wouldn't take this any longer. All she had to do was bide her time. Already more and more of the others like her were beginning to juggle the idea of revolt and she would be with them every step of the way.
Buckles jingled and straps slapped bare skin. They tightened them enough to bring blood to her sore wrists and ankles and she let out a hiss of pain. She was being treated like an animal. The iron slab she was on top of began to tip and her eyes widened as the soft clatter of ice cubes in water rustled beneath her, the chilled air already caressing her skin and making the fire inside of her burn, as if in terror. Water, however ironic it may be, was her greatest weakness. Of course, she could take hot water, but freezing water was so inexplicably painful she could barely think.
Three. Two. One. She was submerged and every cell in her worn body cried out, fervently trying to stay warm enough. After several more dips, Brooke couldn't barely move a finger and the doctors called it a day. They gave her a shot of some greenish fluid and she felt mobility begin to seep back but not nearly fast enough. They shoved her out of the lab and slammed the door. She fell to the ground, the harsh white light and walls blinding her momentarily and making her grit her teeth in rage. There were no windows. No sunlight. Only this artificial, cold light that Brooke suspected was used to draw out any spark of hope the patients had. She sighed and got unsteadily to her feet. Insanity seemed like such a welcome solution to all of this. A sweet, but almost sinful way out. She wouldn't have to worry about fighting or resisting. But wasn't that the easy conclusion? Wasn't that cowardly? Brooke was many things, but she was no coward. She was a fighter and a stubborn one at that. She would see to it that this Asylum fell to its very roots and all of the da**** doctors fell with it.
"Dip her in the ice water. See how long she can retain fire afterwards." Her "doctor" said to his nurses, a wicked and somewhat maniacal grin sliding across his face. In this section of the Asylum, he was the boss and Brooke was his favorite patient. She felt herself being lifted, but didn't struggle. Struggling only brought more pain. But that didn't mean she had given up. No. Everyday she suffered, the more the will to survive and break out, to be free again, coursed through her veins. She wouldn't take this any longer. All she had to do was bide her time. Already more and more of the others like her were beginning to juggle the idea of revolt and she would be with them every step of the way.
Buckles jingled and straps slapped bare skin. They tightened them enough to bring blood to her sore wrists and ankles and she let out a hiss of pain. She was being treated like an animal. The iron slab she was on top of began to tip and her eyes widened as the soft clatter of ice cubes in water rustled beneath her, the chilled air already caressing her skin and making the fire inside of her burn, as if in terror. Water, however ironic it may be, was her greatest weakness. Of course, she could take hot water, but freezing water was so inexplicably painful she could barely think.
Three. Two. One. She was submerged and every cell in her worn body cried out, fervently trying to stay warm enough. After several more dips, Brooke couldn't barely move a finger and the doctors called it a day. They gave her a shot of some greenish fluid and she felt mobility begin to seep back but not nearly fast enough. They shoved her out of the lab and slammed the door. She fell to the ground, the harsh white light and walls blinding her momentarily and making her grit her teeth in rage. There were no windows. No sunlight. Only this artificial, cold light that Brooke suspected was used to draw out any spark of hope the patients had. She sighed and got unsteadily to her feet. Insanity seemed like such a welcome solution to all of this. A sweet, but almost sinful way out. She wouldn't have to worry about fighting or resisting. But wasn't that the easy conclusion? Wasn't that cowardly? Brooke was many things, but she was no coward. She was a fighter and a stubborn one at that. She would see to it that this Asylum fell to its very roots and all of the da**** doctors fell with it.