Experiment 121 ~ White Tiger / Noah Carpenter
My name is Noah Carpenter. At least--I think it is. I have no memory of who I am, who I used to be, before I came to this . . . hell. I can't stand much more. I've got to escape. They torture us here, making us kill and desire the taste of blood. It's terrifying . . . and disgusting.
I've made a friend, Rogan Wolfe, who, amazingly, can shift into a wolf. We believe the B.E.A.S.T. agency gave him this name, as it's too coincedental. But if they gave him that name, did they give me mine, too? We both have had dreams that seem as if they are memories. The scientists know about mine, but he's kept silent. He wants to stay at B.E.A.S.T. , to read the classified files on himself and find out who he used to be, as neither of us can remember our "lives before". The scientists must mind-wipe us somehow--brainwashing us to do their bidding. If we refuse, then torture is imminent, and more than once, I've been subject to that.
I can't even talk about it without tears in my eyes.
But I do have two pictures of myself, one as my normal, human state, and one as . . . a white tiger. I still cannot believe all the things these people are capable of. But I shudder every time I see myself as the tiger. It's me--but not me. I can think, understand human speech, and know what's going on when I'm shifted, but my DNA says I'm 100% tiger. How they did that, I'll never know.
This is what I look like normally.
This picture is in my file; one of the only things that isn't classified. This is what I look like as a tiger.
I shiver every time I see this picture. You see, right after this was taken, I was ordered to kill the camera man. I had already been tortured the night before for refusing to obey and I'd be damned if they were going to hurt me again. I don't remember much about what happened next other than the poor man's screams. I woke up many hours later, covered in blood in my cell. My belly was full, but I didn't remember eating.
Once I understood what had happened, I retched there on the floor, and it was a good week before they cleaned it out. Christ, I need to escape. I *have* to. It's not an option any longer. If they kill me, so be it. At least then I'll have peace from who I really am: a monster.
With Rogan's help, I think I can do it. We have a plan. I just hope I can disappear. If B.E.A.S.T. catches me again, they'll torture me within an inch of my life before mind-wiping me once more. That cannot happen. I pray to God that it never does. DO NOT let the same thing happen to you. Death is better than the alternative.