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A Place Called Rojus Part Two
A Place Called Rojus Part Two
When I woke up, I found my self strapped to a freezing lab table. The table was sitting in a bleach white room. Bright light blinded me and reached to every nook and cranny. Large pieces of medical equipment that smelled of latex and felt colder that ice, lined the walls of the room. I looked over and found a long cylindrical tube sticking out of my arm as it pumped a scarlet liquid into me. Two, tall, mean-looking men dressed in lab coats stood next to a row of computers while examining the read outs on them. One looked up and saw me awake. He motioned to the other man and started to walk over to me.
As he drew closer, I began to make out his features. The man had black, greasy hair and dark, beady eyes. His nose was large and possessed a Roman quality to it. The man's name tag read Dr. Moretti. The thick layer of cologne he was wearing radiated off of him and crashed down on me in heavy waves. I could tell by the way he walked, Dr. Moretti had some bad news in store for me. With his head held high, he looked down at me on the examining table.
"Well, well, Kristy Richards, you have got yourself into a pretty messy predicament, haven't you?" Dr. Moretti's voice was greasier than his hair. He talked with a sly undertone that gave the impression that he felt better than everyone else.
"What do you mean a messy predicament?'" I asked a bit confused.
"The reason why you're here of course. You've been a very naughty girl, and got yourself into a big problem. I wish you could have come here earlier. We could have fixed you right up." Dr. Moretti started typing something into the machine that was pumping the scarlet liquid.
"I'm not following. Where am I?" Dr. Moretti turned and faced me. There was the faint trace of a smile lying on his face.
"You're in the hospital. Don't you remember anything?" Suddenly all the memories came flooding back to me. I remember the bridge, and the police finding me because Paul sold me out to see his family.
I began to struggle, trying to get out of the bonds on my wrists and ankles. "I have to get out of here. I can't know what I did. Get me out of here."
Dr. Moretti shrugged and said, "No can do. I've got to tell you what your scar is, give you a punishment and then send you back out into Rojus." I stared in horror at Dr. Moretti. The scar would lead me to what crime I committed in the past. I would find out why I was sent here, and understand how evil I am.
"But that's not fair," I said accusingly.
"Life is not fair. Now your scar-" Dr. Moretti never finished his sentence.
"No stop," I shouted.
"Your scar is-" He yelled back.
"Please, I'm begging you!"
"Mark, come over here and keep her quiet," Dr. Moretti ordered. The other man got up and walked over to me. He put his hands over my mouth to keep me from protesting.
"That is so much better," Dr. Moretti sighed, "Your scar is that you are pregnant." Once he said those worlds, the entire world stopped. I was confused, how could my pregnancy be something bad? Dr. Moretti obviously saw the look on my face because he then said, "Oh that's right, you don't remember. A long time ago Cade Redman, the dictator of America, passed a law that said people under the age of nineteen cannot become pregnant. There was another law that gave the privilege of bearing children to only cretin people. You have broken both of those laws. The father has not shown his face, but we will find him." I soon became mad at myself, how could I have been so stupid? My head was having a hard time wrapping itself around Dr. Moretti's accusations.
"Your punishment will mostly be inflicted upon your child, who should never be born due to the surplus in population. Once you give birth to the child, you will remain the Rojus while your child will be taken away and used for genetic testing."
"How can you be so cruel? I would never break the law, get me out of here! This isn't fair." I yelled once Mark took his hands form my mouth.
"Like I said, life is not fair. You chose to become pregnant, and now you and your child will suffer. Now, Mark and I are going to put you under so the police can take you back to your house. We don't want you hurting our police officers." Dr. Moretti said as he took the long tube from my arm and prepared a shot of anesthetic.
"One last question," I growled as Dr. Moretti looked up at me, "What was that red liquid?"
"Blood, you lost a lot in the operation." He explained.
"Operation?" I asked confused.
"We had to put a tracking device in you so you don't run off." With that Dr. Moretti shoved the needle into my arm. The last image I saw was the icy stare of the evil doctors. For the second time, I became unconscious against my will.