She sat alone, as she always did, in her room. She knew her room by touch and smell completely, and was told that it was the only place in the world where she was safe.
Her room was cold; always cold. The floor was hard and brittle; most likely like stone. Her walls were metal; she could feel it; and her door was far out of reach above her.
Her name was Evangeline, but she preferred Evie, such as it was. She had lived twelve years in this room; all of them in silence. She only spoke when spoken to, and that event was rare. Her brown skin had never seen the sun, and it never was supposed to, so it had become pale after her birth.
Her hair was incredibly short, both for elaborate and practical reasons. The only reason she knew, of course, was the practical one: her DNA code made it so that she had more bi-sulfide in the proteins of her hair, so it was stronger and coiled more than the usual. It was impossible to brush, wash or even put up. In fact, if it grew to a certain length, it would be impossible to cut. Because of this, it was kept at a length of one-centimeter at all times.
She wore a short, white dress that was more of a smock then anything. Her tennis-style shoes were also white and had remained un-scuffed for years, not that she would notice. She wore a medical bracelet given to her by her numerous “fathers”. She also wore a mask over her eyes. It, like the rest of her clothing, was white and soft. It would be removed twice a day for her medicated drops, and then put directly back on. Her world was dark; always dark; and that was how it was supposed to be.
“Evie, please stand.”
The familiar voice echoed through her room from a speaker in the right-hand corner of her wall. She stood from her bed and turned to it; where a camera supposedly was.
“Who am I, Evie?”
“Good. Now, please proceed with my regiment.”
Evie knew this one well; it was one of the first she had been taught all those years ago. She took four steps forward, then turned left and took two more steps. She then felt the wall for a large, plastic box. It was there, as always, attached to the wall. She waited for a beep, then opened it and took out something heavy made of metal. She felt around for a hook, and placed the hook in her mouth. She then connected two smaller hooks to her hair, and took a breath.
“The neck, Evie.”
“Yes Doctor Father.”
She held her breath in as she placed a long, thin, metal spike through a scar on the back of her neck. It hurt, as it always did. She hated that part, and wished that someone else would do it for her.
“Very good Evie. Now, can you tell me what your sisters are doing?”
Evie thought for a moment, and a shock went through her spine. She struggled to stay up and her mind went down into the ground. She felt a cold surrounding her, and then something rushed against her skin. It felt like water, but it wasn’t wet. She let herself become immersed in this stream of liquid, and then opened her mouth.
“May I speak to them?”
“They don’t want to talk to you.”
“Evie, I want to speak to them.”
Evie hesitated. All around her she could feel and hear her sisters. They were shouting and crying. Hundreds of them; all in her mind. Some were so tiny; like babies. Some were a bit older. A few were almost adult.
She took a breath and her mouth opened. Suddenly hundreds became one, and they all spoke through her.
"Burn in the Hell you came from! Leave us to our dead, and leave us alone!"
“Where are you?”
"We are in HELL!"
“What does it look like?”
"The flames burn bright, and they call for you! They call for all our fathers and mothers and Gods! The flames are waiting to punish you for what you have done!"
Evie’s nose started to bleed.
"Let her go! Let our sister go!"
“You know I can’t do that.”
"You bastardous fiend! Hell awaits you for this!"
“What else do you see? What colours? What smells?”
Suddenly, Evie was flung into the air; her face close now to the camera. The man watching her started to panic and made sure the door was sealed.
"WE SEE YOUR FLESH, DOCTOR FATHER!"
Another button was pushed, and a surge of electricity was sent through the metal connected to Evie’s spine, and she fell the ten meters to the floor. She shook and bled from her nose and from behind her cloth eye mask.
“Evie? Evie are you there?”
She shook and convulsed on the floor.
“Evie, get up. You can take it off now.”
It took her ten minutes to get off the floor. Her hands shook as she took the metal out of her spine and mouth and hair. She felt around for the box and threw it back in before racing to her bed.
“Good job, Evie. You did very well.”
She started to cry in dry heaves. She had no tears; just blood. The man watched her from a room far away.
“We’ll clean you up when it’s time for your drops. Take a nap; you did well.”
She wasted no time falling asleep. She let her mind drift off and a darkness consumed her. Not the usual darkness, no. This darkness sealed off her ears and her skin; she could hear nothing and feel nothing. In the blinding black, her sisters sang to her.
"Evangeline, Evangeline, feel nothing anymore.
Evangeline, Evangeline, run through the open door.
Come join us here in our crusade,
Come join us now in Hell.
It’s better than this promenade;
It’s better than this cell."
Her sisters invited her many times to come with them; to die and join them. Every day and every night they sang to her; inviting her to their numbers. But she didn’t go. She had tried a few times, but she always came back. She used to scream when she came back; scream and pound on the walls. Her fists would smell of blood and fire by then end, but still she was denied the pleasure of death. She didn’t know why. She wondered many times if she was hated by something; or if there was something she had to do. After awhile she had stopped wondering; stopped caring. She lived, and would continue to live until they were done with her; her Doctor Fathers.
And it seemed that they would never be done.