I flinched, holding my hand over my eyes and blinking rapidly to adjust myself to the brightness of the room.

From somewhere above my head, the sound of a microphone coming to life buzzed irritatingly in my ear. A gruff, businesslike voice followed the tapping sound magnified several times.

"Testing, testing, 1,2,3, is this thing on?"

I stumbled as I tried to take a step closer, lurching to the side and barely catching myself, still trying to get my feet steady. I took another step, the felt an impact on my forehead and I fell backward. After gathering my bearings, I slowly stood up and looked around.

A large room, big enough for me to take a hundred steps from one wall to another, with some barrels placed at careful distances from each other. On one wall, the one with the door I had come through, there was a large window with people in white clothes, and others in black and yellow. I looked back up as I heard the microphone come back to life.

"Ah, hello, Subject 2463. How are you adjusting?"

I look down at myself, seeing that I'm in a featureless white shirt and like-wise featureless pair of white slacks. It seems these people like white? I look back up and call out hesitantly, "Um, I, uh, think I'm doing good. How are you?"

"How I am is irrelevant. If you are finished adjusting, then we can start the experiment. Please standby..."

I try to open my mouth and say something else, but the sound of the mic shutting off echoes through the room like a curtain of rock detaching from a mountain.. Time ticks by as I wait for the sound of it hitting the ground...

Simultaneously, eight doors slide open, and I peer into the darkness beyond. Out of one of the doors, a white shoe steps out...

A man steps out, and starts walking toward me. I wave, and start to ask him what's going on, but-

His right arm cocks back, then shoots forward and hits me in the cheek. I reel back, pain and tears obscuring my vision, and I fall to my knees. I hold one hand up to my cheek, and turn to ask the man what he's doing, when I feel an impact on my stomach. I momentarily leave the ground, then hit the ground hard on my side. I groan, feeling at my side with my left hand. Where the lowest rib should be, I can feel a flat nub through the skin. I think I broke a rib.

I try to get to my knees, and look up. Standing over me, the man in white has already pulled his fist back and is ready to punch me again.

If he keeps going...I won't survive.

Though I grunt with pain, I push off the ground by straightening my knees and tackle his legs, bringing him to the ground. Once there, I scramble until my knees are clamped around his chest. I try my best to hold him down, but he's shaking and pushing, and I'm sweating like crazy.

I try to reason with him. "Hey! Stop that! I'm not going to hurt you if you stop!"

When he ignores me, I try to intimidate him. "If you don't stop, I'll really hit you!"

He ignores me, and keeps struggling. I'm getting fed up, and I can feel a heat in my cheek and side, and all of his moving around is making my rib hurt even more.

Having gotten fed up with his saying nothing, coming in here and hitting me, and with his continued silence, I hold both of his hands over his head with my left hand, and pull back my right.

Should I really hit him?

One of his hands slip out of my grip, and he hits me in the solar plexus, driving the air from my lungs. He then pushes me off and stands up while I lay gasping on the floor. Without so much as a pause, he steps forward and kicks me in the side again, right in my broken rib.

Pain like molten fire spreads from my side to every atom of my body, and I can't help but scream. Before I've stopped screaming from the first kick, the man delivers a second. Then a third, and a fourth, and over and over, like he wants to drill a hole through my side with his foot.

It hurts so much, and I feel so weak...I've curled up into a ball the best I can, doing everything possible to stop the pain.

Behind the glass on the wall, the white-clothed people are shaking their heads in disapointment. Through the gaps of my fingers, I see the men and women putting down their clipboards and sitting back in chairs, like they're waiting for the inevitable. On each and every pair of lips, I see the same pattern. I try to copy it, and I hear myself say...

"Failure...failure...failure..."

How did I fail? What was there to mess up?! I've done nothing wrong! I don't even know what's going on! Why is this person hurting me for no reason? Why do you think I'm a failure?

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Somehow, the kicks have gotten even more intense. I feel at my side, and I stop counting the broken and shattered ribs after five. I feel something sliding down my face, and bring my hand up to my cheek and feel at what's there.

My hand comes away wet, with salty water and blood from a cut on my lip.

I can't take this! I've had enough!

I put out a hand, and feel one of my fingers bend the wrong way as I stop the mans' foot. My ribs scream and howl as I get to my feet, the pain darkening my vision and making it impossible to see. I hurriedly retreat backwards, and wait a few seconds until my eyes cleared.

The man is coming, and he is still expressionless. Silent, except for the grunts of effort to kick me. He pulls his fist back, and I step to the side as he punches where I was standing a moment ago. I copy his movement, pulling my hand back, then curling my fingers into a fist. With as much force as I can muster, I slam my fist into his cheek-

He's thrown to the ground, and I stand, holding my side and crying from the pain. I hope he'll stay down. I hope he'll stop. I wish he'd talk to me.

He gets up...and walks toward me, as if nothing happened, even though his lip sports a similar cut to mine. He pulls his fist back-

I try to dodge, but he follows me and nails me in the face again. I stumble back, but stay standing, barely. He comes towards me, but before he can move, I step forward, pull my fist back, and punch him in the face. His head rolls with the blow, then comes up and punches me in the side, sending electric sparks through my whole body. I grab his shoulders, and knee him in the chest, feeling a rib or two bend too far. He punches me in the chin. I step on his foot and punch him in the face again.

He's bleeding from the mouth, and globules of congealed blood are being coughed out by him every time he take a breath. I'm running out of steam, any more of this and I'll faint. As my vision is narrowing, I elbow him in the chest one last time, but feel his chest give more than usual...

I fall to my knees, unable to stand up, and watch as the man stumbles, blood pouring down his front like a ribbon. He also falls to his knees, but starts retching and coughing, then hacking and wheezing, more and more blood pouring out of his mouth. I stumble toward him, all while feeling horrible and guilty.

"I-I'm so sorry! I didn't mean for you to bleed so much, I was just defending myself! Please stop bleeding, I didn't mean to-"

He latches onto my front, grabbing my shirt with both hands, and sprays blood and spit all over my face. He coughs and hacks, getting weaker and weaker, as the blood starts to lesson. I feel hope in my heart, and grab his arms to hold him up, but I'm too weak, and he weighs too much. His coughs get lighter and lighter, and his wheezes have less energy, and I feel as if he'll be alright!

Then he goes limp, and falls tot he ground. Then he twitches one last time, and lies still.

I stand, frozen, not quite sure what's happening. I kneel down next to him, and shake him.

"Hey? Are you alright? You're better now, right? Are you okay..."

He isn't moving, and he isn't blinking. Yet I still keep shaking him. He'll be alright, he was getting better. Everything will be alright. Distantly, I hear the sound of doors opening.

I keep shaking the man, trying to wake him up. He's just sleeping. He'll be alright after a little rest, I should probably leave him alone. Yeah, I'll just let him sleep for a little-

I'm thrown to the side, and all of the pain that went numb when I saw the man fall down suddenly burst to life. A storm of pain flashed through my body, and I heard and felt the thuds of people kicking me. Yet, I didn't resist. Why?

Because I finally realized the truth.

When I kneed the man in the chest, I broke two of his ribs. When I elbowed him in the same spot, I drove one of those ribs into his lung. I'd killed a man.

I felt myself be turned over on my back, and then the pain of feet crushing me as they curb-stomped me. My already broken ribs shattered, and the shards made their way into every organ I had. I, too, coughed up blood. When my pulse slowed, and I felt every beat of my heart drive a shard of bone deeper and deeper inside it, my final sight was of a man.

He wore white clothes, dyed red.