She felt her wrist tied down,  rubbed bloody from the cold black leather straps. The room was so cold that she felt the blood left on her wrist beginning to frost over.  She could not turn her head upward to see the ceiling of the room because of the huge contraption attached to her head.  The room must have been extremely tall with many different levels because she heard a very deep voice say something that sounded like it was hundreds of feet above her.  It said “proceed.”  A needle from the contraption jolted into her head and before she blacked out she wondered if the last thing she would remember would be the low, moaning voice she had just heard.
Sophie jolted up, hitting her head on the bunk bed shed had since she was a little girl.  She cursed quietly about how bad dreams like that scared her.  She had them often, almost every night in fact, but she quickly forgot what they were about when she began to start her morning routine for school. She gathered her things for school and softball practice, rubbing her head as she went out the door.  Her head always hurt alittle if she slept on her side the whole night, but she had never had the sharp pain on one side that she was now experiencing.
She proceeded on through her normal school day despite the throbbing on the left side of her scalp.  She went to math class and struggled as usual, had fun in P.E.  Even noticed the creepy kid in computer science class that she caught looking at the side of her head while she was working.  She went to softball practice, not making it to the end before her teammate pointed out to her that her hair looked unusually wet on one side.  When she stopped to feel her head she pulled her hand away to find a tint of red on her fingertips.  She blamed it on her ultra tight headband that was giving her a horrible rash.  Still unknowing of the true problem. 
She got home and ate while her mother mentioned to her that her father would be working late at the Mental Rehabilitation Center he owned.  She hated him being gone, but knew his fiery passion for his job.  Once he was home, he greeted her with his kind hello, but instead of Sophie looking into her father's light blue eyes like she always had to greet him. She found his eyes to be focused somewhere else closed to her.  It appeared that he was glancing at something on her head, but being the kind daughter she was, she fixed his plate of supper like normal.
She slept restlessly the next night awaking once to a throbbing headache and footsteps in the hall.  She winced in pain when she tried to stand up to see which one of her parents was up in the wee hours of the morning.  She flopped back on her bed because of the pain, and decided to continue the battle of sleeping. Although when she awoke, she wished she had still been sleeping.
She screamed when she saw that her pillow was saturated with blood, her hair was wet but she could not reach to feel it before she had passed out because of the pain. She awoke to find herself looking at her father in a large stone room.  She guessed that they were somewhere beneath her father's clinic center because she has noticed the sign for it when she was fading in and out of consciousness in the car   He was dressed in a dark grey outfit making him very hard to see in front of the cold stone walls.  She screamed and begged her father to let her go.  He only began to speak in a calm, almost satisfied voice.
He explained to her that this was the 15th of many trails that he was conducting to complete his work on “revolutionizing neuroscience”.  Simultaneously, when he began to explain that he had developed a machine to extract memories from the mind, the machine lowered and clicked into place, gripping her head very tightly.  She screamed “why choose your own daughter!”.  He nonchalantly responded that he had easy access to her any time of night.  He popped a pill in her mouth and calmly muttered that she would forget in the morning.  Then the needle jolted like a bullet out of a rifle into her temple when she heard her father rumble the words “proceed”. 
Sophie awoke the next morning with a terrible headache, her father greeted her at the door kindly with some headache pills.  She asked how he knew and he responded that allergies this time of year were terrible.  She smiled at him and rubbed the terrible rash on her wrist that she figured must have came from her softball glove.  She said goodbye later in the morning while getting out of the car and her father said “ goodbye sweetheart, see you tonight”.