The Monarch Effect (DISCONTINUED DRAFT)

Chapter 8

It was a few days later that Samuel woke up in his outside bed. Sitting up, he looked over to his clock to see the date was 7/5/00 and froze. The day after Independence Day. Inside, he called out for his mates, each of their names, but there was no response. His breathing became uneven as his anxiety skyrocketed and his heart began to beat out of his chest. God, Satan, and maybe some select few people, only know what happened over the past week.

He jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom only to realize he was already completely naked.

"No," he said aloud while looking in the mirror. He repeated it a couple of times while checking every crevice of his body, especially his head, back and groin. He was relieved when he didn't see anything particularly new; just some old moles and tiny tattoos he forgets to get removed. On his head and neck, he could not feel any bumps that could be a microchip or such. Sighing, he looked at his reflection, still going over any possible things he simply wasn't able to see without a scan or x-ray of some sort. He looked especially young for his age, as was intended by his abusers. It's possible he had some sort of surgery at some point in his life, which was important for being a sex slave.

Your not fooling me now, he thought to himself. You can't. None of you can, none of you will. Not after this long. You should of killed me, but I was too perfect to send off. Samuel got angry, recalling the memories of years upon years of trying to be the perfect one. The oblivious one. A blissful young thing that had no idea of the night. But, someone made a mistake somewhere in the process that started a revolution in his head. That, however, didn't calm him down, and before he knew it, his reflecting face was shattered, and blood welled from the outsides sides of his hands. Now, he felt airy and flighty, sensing he was about to fall.

About this time, Samantha would come to help him out, maybe lull him with a song, but she was gone, leaving him to fix himself in some way. He watched as his eyes looked for glass on the ground, seeing instances of what could be the top of his head. He felt himself float as he followed the body into the shower, only entering back once he turned on the shower head. He sat down to regain his lost composure, and feeling the water drop onto and soak his scalp helped him that's when he fully realized he was bleeding.

About an hour later, he was sitting at his desk in a room lined from wall to wall with books abon books, from fiction to history, biographies to entirely re-written and classified documents. However, it wasn't a book in front of him, but a standing magnifying glass and medical supplies. With a pair of tweezers, he picked out tiny fragments of glass and put them in a small bowl to be thrown away for later.

What happened to you? Said a familiar voice he hadn't heard in some time.

Matilda?

Yeah...

Where have you been all this time? I thought you were gone for good!

I don't know. Somewhere dark, and scary. Where's everyone else?

I don't know either. I'm worried they were sent back deeper into the system, the one I can't even access.

When was the last time you tried?

Tried what? Samuel shook his hand to relieve the pain after plucking a bigger shard from his hand.

To go out?

Well, I couldn't try now, the body would black out again.

You mean you would black out again?

Samuel thought about that and realized his mistake. Yes, he told her. I would black out, without any idea as to what's going on outside.