I quickly jot down my observations of the specimen in front of me. A young woman sits under the single tree in her habitat, writing on papers that I've noticed she holds together by tying yarn around them. She is furiously scribbling onto the paper with an intensity on her face that only a small child could have.
        Her lips are puckered and thin, her small nose all screwed up. Her eyebrows are clenched together and blend in with the exaggerated creases in her forehead. Her long red hair lay all around her, piling onto her lap or the grass around her or across the white cloth she wears around her pale body.
        "Class let's see what happens when you rattle the cage a bit." says a teacher who has brought her students, with my allowance, to watch some of my experiments.
        I turn to my left to face multiple machines and easily pick out the correct lever to push up, ever so slightly. Then I bring another down and another back up. I turn back to the woman and her habitat to see the changes as I record those changes and their numbers.
        Then scene before us turns to a darker one as the lights begin to dim. The room becomes almost pitch black. Suddenly a whistling noise is heard all around and I know now that the wind is picking up viciously, gusting over 50mph.
        I hear the sounds of the whistling wind, papers crinkling and spraying all over- they must be the ones she's written on. I know her heart rate must've gone up by now, from panic. I hear branches of the tree are breaking and screams coming from the habitat. It's time to observe the results of the experiment.
        I turn to my left once more. Two levers down, one up. The lights snap back on, the whistling wind abruptly stops and we are left with the aftermath of the storm.
        "Wow!" one student exclaims. "Look at ALL that BLOOD!" He seems so fascinated in the gory things. I can't help but to chuckle at the child's admiration. I enjoy it to, even at the age I am now. I look to my findings.
        I find her slumped against the tree, which is now missing many of it's branches. I find one in the torso of my subject. She cries as she pulls it out with a quick tug and the blood spills out of her easily, smoothly. She now struggles to stand and staggers forwards toward me. I have no reaction, just a stern face as I continue to record my data. I do hear the sounds of the children muttering and giggling behind me.
        "Look at her try to walk!" a little girl laughed. "She keeps falling over!
        A young boy cut in with his sharp tone pondering a question. "How could people like HER even live like that?"
        "Yeah!" another student butt in. "How could they have possibly survived? Why not just die out?"
        "I think she should die!" The sullen boy from earlier yelled out. I heard murmurs of agreement. "Why does she deserve to live..." He paused for a moment before answering his own wonders. "She doesn't!" The other students mutter approval of his corrupt and malevolent thoughts.
        I turn to them and let out a hearty laugh. "She's not going to live." I take a deep breath in and blow it out slowly. "Just watch and observe children."
        They all seem to obey.
        The woman with her red locks continues to stumble to us, her arms are reaching out as if she's calling for help, someone come save her. But no one is her rescuer. She reaches and cries and now she's running. She's running as hard as she possibly can, which I admit isn't much of a run.
        Her feet are turning black and bloody from the dark soil and twigs she steps on. I make notes on this. As she trips and fails her cloth falls to the ground, leaving her body bloody and naked. She is bare, exposed, open for all of us to see. And she knows this. The cuts on her head are dripping blood down her face- she hasn't bothered to wipe it off. I can see that she is gasping for air.
        "Oh my god shes naked!!" One child yells out and some of the other children whine "eww" or "gross" but I tell them to be silent. I must observe my specimen.
        The woman has reached the side of the glass and now sinks down to the ground, a heap of flesh and blood. Her breathing is staggered and loud, but it is slowing. It's slowing... slowing... It's stopped now. My experiment is complete.