The spotlights shining in his eyes were the first thing he noticed. At first, he thought that the lights were what caused his vision to be green. However, he soon realized that this wasn't the case. It was worse. He was surrounded by green goo.

Thinking he was drowning, he immediately held his breath, then slowly exhaled as he realized his stupid mistake. He realized he had an oxygen mask on. Suddenly, with that realization, he squirmed around, thrashing, trying to escape. Then, something caught his eyes that made him only pound the glass harder. Wires were attached to his body...his whole body.

In the instant his fists hit the glass, the wires suddenly pulled out of his body, all at once. Pain rushed through his body, as he stopped pounding. Then, the pain subsided, and he realized the green goo had actually...helped him.

Still, he was fearful. This fear only increased as he heard the tube he was in stir to life. The green goo rushed downwards, all disappearing except for some that stuck to the glass, and, as he glanced at his body, on him.

When the tube opened, he stepped out slowly, taking in his surroundings quickly, without knowing quite why he did it. Realizing he was crouching, he stood up, and walked to the clothes lying on the floor.

Picking them up, he put them on, yet not quite realizing that he was doing it, or how he even knew to. From what he could remember, he hadn't never done this before. He pushed the thought aside as he bent down to lace his shoes.

Suddenly, in the middle of tying his left shoelace, he stood up as a horrid thought struck him. He couldn't remember doing this, ever, but he could. Racking his brains for memories, it dawned on him that he had no memories. He had nothing. He couldn't remember who he was, or anything he had ever done in his whole life.

Quickly tying his shoe, he walked over to the mirror, to look at himself, though he didn't know how he knew that. Some instinct told him that he would be able to see himself. As he looked in the mirror, a strange feeling ran through him. For some reason, the face looking back at him looked oddly familiar, though he had never seen it in his life. He knew it was himself, and it scared him all the more.

Taking a closer look at himself, he rubbed his hand through his closely shaven hair. Then, running his hand on his face, his hand encountered a bump. Looking in the mirror, he slowly realized what it was as he followed it from his ear down to his chin: a scar. Shivering, he turned away from the mirror and walked to the door.

On his way to the door, he was distracted by a sign that said "Please Drink." Not knowing how he knew this, yet not caring anymore, the man reached for it, quickly pouring some down his mouth. However, as it entered his mouth, he immediately spit it out, berating himself for his mistake. What if it was poisoned? You could have died! Inspecting the drink, he guessed that it wasn't poisoned, however, as the people who kept him in that tank probably didn't want him dead.

With this new thought, he, slowly at first, then quicker as the liquid rushed down his throat, drank the whole thing, without stopping. When he was done drinking, he glanced back in the glass, wishing there was more, yet knowing that none of this odd tasting, yet good, liquid, would magically appear. He laughed at himself for thinking this.

Throwing the drink to the floor, he walked slowly to the door, watching his hand reach out to open it. When his hand made contact, he stopped, frozen for a few moments. Thoughts raced through his head, as he wondered what was outside of this door. Finally, he pushed his hand firmly against the pad, and stepped outside the door as it slowly opened.

__________________


You can have my gun when you pry it from my paranoid, mentally disturbed, physically-abusive, cold, dead hand.