The glare he gives me is cold. Icy. All he is here to do is give me my blended food. I bet this is how they do it. How they spill those bugs into me. My plan will stop them. He hands me the cup.
"You must be joking, I have to drink th-this with out h-help?" I stutter.
"Oh, right, you're in a strait jacket..." he mumbles. Mumbling. A sign of unsureness. Hah, he mumbles. I don't.
It's funny how much time you have, in here, to just think. I mean, if you repeat a word lots of times, it begins to sound really weird. Like the word weird. Weird. Haha. Oh! Come on Keith! Stay on track. The plan. Ok.
"Excuse me, my h-hands are n-numb... Can you loosen this j-jacket?" I begin.
"Hahaha! Is that the best excuse? No," he says in a matter-of-fact tone.
Superior? My ass. He is just a stuck up scientist. A waste. Other good scientists are okay. But these people. No. Just no. I stare into his pale bronze eyes. They are full of something. Something spiteful and hungry. Hungry for blood. I begin to hear a voice in my ear. Calling me.
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140,706 Literary Works • 673,672 Reviews
Hey Biffle!
You could do with removing the Oh. It seems a little too dramatic.Well, I just read part one and I must say, that was good, except for the sudden transition from detox to bugs.
Well, onto this, I think it was very (very) short. I think you'll need to add more to this part.
Once again, the sudden shift of focus is a bit unnerving.
Anyway, I'd love to read more.
Keep writing.
~Lava