This story may seem a litte abstract. It is told through the perspective of a severely autistic person. Please enjoy.
All I see are colors. Dancing, vivid colors. They say I’ve got nothing to live for, that I shouldn’t even be living. But I live, because I live for the colors. Where I live, the colors are bleak and white. The ladies in white dresses and hats come to see me everyday. They have colors in their eyes. Eyes that look down on me with pity. Why do they pity me? I am content, the colors keep me happy. Sometimes, the man with black hair comes to see me. I do not like him. He stares at me from behind thick, colorless glasses. Then, he talks to the white ladies. His voice hurts my ears. There are two other people who visit me. They wear shirts with lots of colors, not like the men and women in blue and white. They look at me through a big glass window, their mouths move but I hear nothing. I think that they feel sorry for me, but I am happy with my colors.
There are other people like me here. They sit in big, wheeled chairs, just like me. Yellow tubes hang down from their mouths and noses, just like me. There are many people here, some old, some young, and they all stare hopelessly off into nothing. But not me. When I look at them I feel sad. So I close my eyes. There is a land there. It is a beautiful land. It is filled with colors. Here in my land, I play with the colors, I dance and run and laugh and sing. But my most favorite thing to do is to sit and listen to the most wonderful color of all. I know that there is someone behind the color, and I want to always go and see him. But I can’t, so I sit and listen to everything that he has to tell me. He tells me that he loves me. He tells me that I matter to him, and that I’m beautiful. Back in the white world, the ladies there tell me the same things. But they don’t mean them. They say them because they think I can’t tell. But I can. This man though, tells me the truth. He means what he says. I love that man.
Today, I sit in my chair in the white world. I can’t wait for the lady in white to leave, so that I can go to the color world. But when she leaves, I see the man with dark hair talking to the two other people behind the window. They look at me, and I want to cry because of the way their eyes are. Now they are coming into my room. They stare down at me. I can hear their words.
“Not worth it…” the woman says.
“Too much money.” The other man says. I look at each of their faces, cold and hard. The man with black hair is the worst of them all.
“The process is quick and painless…they don’t even realize what’s happening when they go.”
I feel a lump in my throat. Go? What does that mean? The people leave, and I am alone again. I close my eyes. Today, the color world is cold. The happy yellows don’t want to play. The deep greens stay far from me. The gentle purple doesn’t comfort me. I feel lost. I run through, searching for the beautiful color. I cannot find him. I sit down and begin to cry.
“Why are you sad child?” I hear the man in the colors say. I tell him everything, and this time he is the one who is listening. He comes to me and wraps me in a warm blanket of color. He tells me not to be afraid, that I will soon get to leave with him. I ask him where we are going, but he only says that it is a place more wonderful than my color world ever was. He says it is too wonderful to imagine. I am happy at these words. Then, I open my eyes and am no longer in the color world.
At once I realize that things here have changed, the white world seems more sad and dry. I look around and see that there are others in the room. Men in blue with masks that hide their faces. All I see is their hateful eyes. I shrink back from them. A lady in white touches my shoulder. She says that everything is going to be alright, that I’m going to take a nap now. I do not believe her. They are going to take me away from this place forever. The blue people start to push my chair down the hall. There is a door at the end. We go through the door into a room with the dark haired man. He is holding a needle, there is no color to whatever is inside of it. He tries to speak soft word to me, telling me that this will all soon be over. I shake my head. He comes closer with the needle. No! Don’t take me away from my colors! My pretty, wonderful colors! I want to scream. But all that comes out is a long moan. I am horrified at the sound of my own voice. The dark haired man pierces my skin with the needle, but I can’t feel it. He keeps talking to me, and I wish he would stop. The blue light of the room slowly start to fade into grey. It grows darker. Darker into black. I am scared. Soon, the entire world is blocked out, and I am left in darkness. I am very cold here, and very alone. There are no colors. Only blackness. Then, as I lie curled up, I hear his voice. And he comes to me with his beautiful colors. I am no longer afraid, for he takes my hand and leads me into his world. And his world is filled with the best colors of all.
Of course, their casual callousness could work for you too, (in which case, exaggerate it) but in general I think you want this to be shocking rather than satirical, so I'd work on developing the "evil" characters a bit more. 