After that day, nothing was ever the same.
I was constantly having my blood drawn. Poked. Prodded. Tested. Anything I did was useless. They took my blood, my saliva, my skin, my hair, even fur from my tail and ears. I was treated badly—no candy, no comfort, nothing. Just pain and needles.
After two more years of this, my "freedom" came in the worst possible way.
They put me in a glass tube.
I don't know how, and I don't know why, but inside that tube I could somehow breathe. It was ugly. It was terrifying. And yet, I eventually got used to waking up unable to breathe, panicking, then forcing myself to calm down. Being trapped became normal.
The samples they took never stopped.
Blood. Saliva. Skin. Follicles. Hair. Fur.
Then, on the day I turned eighteen, everything changed again.
Red lights started flashing. Alarms blared. The entire lab shook with chaos. When I opened my eyes, I realized I wasn't alone—my tube was surrounded by dozens of others.
Dozens of experiments.
Some looked almost human. Some looked alien. Some were just blobs of flesh. All of them trapped like me.
And suddenly… I couldn't breathe.
I panicked and kicked the glass with everything I had. Again. Again. Again—until it finally shattered. Cold air rushed in and I dropped to the floor, coughing, gasping, confused.
But I was free.
I ran. Bare feet slapping against metal floors as I tore through hallways deep underground. Sirens screamed around me. Doors slammed open and shut. I didn't know where I was going—only that I needed to reach the surface.
I made it to the elevator just as security spotted me.
I slammed the "CLOSE" button over and over, my heart pounding. They got closer—almost close enough to grab me—before the doors finally slid shut in their faces.
And just like that…
I escaped.