The first set of tests was just the collection of baseline data. As the male scientist adjusted the many electrodes attached to my skin, I caught a glimpse of his clipboard.

Subject: 452                   DOB: 970901   

Age: 17                           Basal Score: ______

As he moved the electrodes to various parts of my body, the identification number flashed repeatedly in front of my eyes. 452. I was number 452. That meant that there were at least 451 others here. There were at least 451 other men-- no, we were boys, not even given the chance to become men yet-- that these scientists were using as lab rats. How many were there? How many boys had they subjected to these tests? How many passed? How many...failed. Just what the hell was going on here?

The scientist stepped back from me and a sharp, piercing sensation radiated through my temples. I winced.

"You're oding well, 452," the female said. She adjusted the dials on her control pad and her thin, pointed fingers pressed a series of buttons. Her male counterpart stepped forward once more.

My name is Jungkook, I wanted to scream. Jeon Jungkook from Busan! Suga's words echoed in my mind. I don't care, he had said. He didn't care who I was or where I came from. And neither did these scientists. Frustration washed over me. I wanted to kick the male in front of me. I wanted to get him to the ground and attach these damned electrodes to him, to see how he liked it. But something kept me paralyzed: a thin needle pressed into my neck.

The first reaction was the worst. After the needle was removed, my skin started to tinkle and grow hot. It was as if my entire body had fallen asleep and was now struggling to regain consciousness. A few seconds passed and the tingling turned to stabbing, the mild heat to burning. Slowly, the chair I was sitting in reclined, only stopping after I was completely horizontal. As I stared at the ceiling, the burning sensation progressed to a full-on sear. It felt as if I was a piece of pottery set into a kiln to harden. My skin felt as if it was literally on fire and, as the flames at my body, every inch of soft skin was scorched.

Then the convulsions began. They ripped through me. My entire body jerked and fought against the restraints that crossed my chest and lower abdomen. I could feel the welts begin to form as my arms and legs collided against the hard metal of the chair as they flailed about. The raised portions of skin burned more after the contact. The metal seemed to intensify the reaction, as if my body acted as a conductor to transfer the heat. Each one made me feel as if I was being branded.

My back arched up from the flat surface and slammed back down. I wanted to scream. I wanted to curse and cry out for my mother, but the intensity of the convulsions forced my jaw shut. The pain increased and my head jerked from side to side. I foamed at the mouth and I felt my eyes roll to the back of my head.

And then there was nothing.

- - - - - - - - - - -

I'm not sure what time we broke for lunch. There were no visible clocks in the room. They unstrapped me from the chair, knowing that, at this point, I was too spent to be of any danger to them. After helping me to the corner of the room, the male brought over a metal tray of food, the same one I had seen in the cafeteria during breakfast. The food was the same as well. The memory caused my stomach to lurch. I turned my head away.

"Eat," the male scientist snapped, jerking my head back towards him and the food by yanking my hair. The distant and empty look his eyes once held had been replaced by a hard and cold one. He was angry at me for refusing the food. Why? Because he cared me? About my well being? No. It was because I was his test subject. He didn't want anything I did to corrupt his experiment, to ruin his results.

I considered resisting once more, but the malice in his eyes chilled me to the bone. Slowly, I raised the spoon. I could barely feel my limbs. I brought the utensil to my lips and forced the gruel into my mouth. Unlike this morning, the food didn't taste like death. It didn't taste like anything. The moment it touched my tongue, it turned to dirt. I struggled to swallow but once it was down, I forced myself to take another bite.

It took me a while to finish the food and I could tell that the male scientist was growing irritated. He wanted to carry on with the experiments and my lack of urgency when it came to eating the tasteless gruel was agitating him. Once the tray was empty, he kicked it off to the side and hoisted my body up from the floor. I felt like dead weight in his arms. With a great deal of effort, he pushed me back into the metal chair. After brushing his bangs out from his face, he fastened the restraints and moved back to his post, but only after he was absolutely positive that they were as tight as they could be.

"452 secure," he announced.

"Let the second trial commence," the female said, her voice clinical and monotone as she pressed a new series of buttons on her control pad.