A Bitch Named RessurectionVII

Down with the Sickness
"There is no turning back, now,
you've woken up the demon,
In me!"
-Disturbed

This is my chapter on my emotions at the time in Dan Tech Labs.
I was scared at first. Scared, lonely and terrified. I wanted to go home. I just wanted to be in my apartment, playing with my band, listening to music. I wanted to play my video games, and watch TV. I was denied such privileges. The only thing I had was a radio, and some books. I didn't really like reading, but that radio helped me keep my sanity. I could feel safer hearing the voices outside this prison I dwelled in. And sometimes, I would hear my own music playing, and I would start crying. Because that music was made when I was free. I wondered when my band would get people looking for me.
For weeks I was scared, and I cried a lot. They never acknowledged me. Treated me like an animal. Didn't talk to me. I tried to talk to them, but they ignored me.
You don't realize just how extremely important socialization is for you until you're forced to live in a world where, as far as everyone around you is concerned, you don't exist. Invisible. It's mind-wrenching. No one to talk to. Finally, after five weeks, it started. I began talking to the god I knew wasn't there. But it was someone to talk to. But once again, no reply. I started talking to myself- that worked. I could reply back to me. I began pretending there was another me, a stronger me. She wasn't afraid. She was fucking pissed. She hated. I didn't understand at the time, but that was me, deep down. And this Stasia I talked to was going to manifest itself very soon. In fact, it would override the old Stasia, and become who I am now.
After a month and a half, I changed. I was angry. I was getting violent. I remember once, feeding from the blood tap, and taking the synthetic blood and spattering it on the walls. I tore my wrists open, and in a frenzy, wrote words of anger all around my room, not realizing what I was doing until after the event. I stared at the words in horror and fury.

LET ME OUT LET ME OUT WHY WON'T THEY LET ME BE WHY DON'T I KNOW WHAT I AM I FORCED THIS HATE INTO MY HEART CUZ ITS MY ONLY FRIEND LET ME OUT PLEASE LET ME OUT

I felt my wounds, and watched in gruesome fascination as they healed up. I stared at the wall, and suddenly just started screaming. Screaming. I don't know how long I screamed. Finally, I could taste blood in my throat, and I stopped, but my throat healed up, and I could scream again- but I didn't. I fell to the ground and cried. After a few hours, the doctours came in, and saw my message in blood. They seemed astounded, and shocked and maybe a bit disturbed, but no one listened to message. They just sent me out for testing, and when I came back, my room was clean.
There was a lot of tears during this time. But rage came. Rage. I started talking angrily to myself, cursing them. One day, I started screaming every vulgar word I knew. I threw a raging tantrum, and ran around the room, on all fours like a beast. I didn't even realize it. I was also running on the walls, somehow, like a spider, raging. I gouged my claws into the walls, but they were made of lead I think, probably like, three feet of it. Sound-proof and vampyre proof. The only weak points were the door, which was impossible to get by, the blood tap, which was useless, because I couldn't fit through that pipe, and the ventilation shaft, which was also useless- it was too small for me to squeeze through.
Anger. Rage. That slowly began consuming me. After the 'Radio Incident', which is in the next chapter, I fell completely into Rage. I became violent. I was an animal, thirsty for blood, real blood, not that synthetic shit they fed me. But I wanted blood more for hatred than food.
They once sedated me, and put me to sleep for some 'operation'. I woke up, and realized that they had removed my reproductive organs, to ensure I wouldn't breed if I managed somehow to get with the other subjects. Sure, I had no wishes to make whelps, ever, but the fact that they took away my choice for it was what pissed me off. Already they had violated everything in my will, and now this. Fuckers. I hated them so much.
When they entered my room, I would snarl. I would attack during the first weeks of The Rage, ignoring the shocks and sedation. But finally, I got it through that attacking would do nothing to help me. I learned something new about me during this. I was patient. I actually was a patient person my whole life, but this just showed me how patient I was. I knew how to wait for what I wanted. I knew that was what I had to do. Wait for an opportunity. I knew it would take a long time, but I realized if I didn't wait for it, it would never come. So I would sit there like a good girl, glaring with hatred, but waiting. Just thinking about that one lyric from Otep I'm not, ignoring you, I'm just, plotting your doom… I didn't talk to them anymore. In fact, I rarely talked. Just to myself.
There was a ritual I had gotten into the habit of performing every time I was alone in my room. I would chant over and over again, my name. "Anastasia…Anastasia…Anastasia…"
No matter what would happen, I would NOT forget my name. No. That would be it. If I forgot my name, then I might as well stay there. Because I would be done for. Once you forget your name, you forget who you are. You forget everything you ever stood for. You would submit. And I refused.