My name is Bella Stokes, and for as long as I can remember, I have been part of an experiment. Every month, I would go to what looked like a big doctor’s office, and be asked about myself by Dr. Quinton, then my parents would talk to him for a bit. Most questions he asked me were focused around my hobbies and interests, which I gladly told him all about. He always seemed like a kind, fatherly-type person, and I always felt comfortable opening up to him. Maybe it was becauseI never was able to talk to my own parents about things, as they were generally pretty withdrawn. I never minded these sessions, because after each one I got a piece of candy and a small toy from the receptionist. Then, after the session was over, my parents would do something like start a new rule, or show me a new toy to play with. Of course, when I was younger I thought this was just something every kid had to do, and I was homeschooled by my parents, so I didn’t really have other kids around to ask. It wasn’t until I was 13 that I realized that I was a special case.
That was the year that I first got access to the internet. I had no idea what I was doing; my parents had always been careful to make sure I was never exposed to it until my 13th birthday. From then on, I would be allowed 1 hour of internet access a day. To my young mind, the internet felt limitless, like an entire other world that was mine to explore, especially compared to my regular life. I was never allowed to go out much, as my parents liked to control and monitor everything I did. During that month’s session, they had been given a list of websites from the doctors that would help me know where to start. I decided to start on a flash game website, one I can’t remember the name of. I looked up my major interest at the time, which was ninjas. I found a fighting game, which immediately piqued my interest. Since this was my first time ever playing a video game, I didn’t do very well, but I was determined to improve. A couple weeks in, I realized that I could comment under these games, so I asked for tips.
My first response was from a boy named Michael. He taught me about the secret combos in the game, which blew my 13 year old mind. I used those to easily beat the game. Now, I needed another game to play, and who better to ask for suggestions than Michael? I figured out how to private message him on the website. He invited me to play another fighting game, an online one. I was hesitant at first; this would be the first time I had left the websites recommended by Dr. Quinton, but curiosity got the best of me.
I tried the game, and it was pretty fun, but what was more fun was getting to talk to Michael. It was so nice to get to speak to someone around my age, as the only people I ever really spoke to were my parents and Dr. Quinton, since I was not really allowed to leave the house.
A few months went by, and I spoke to Michael more and more. I found out that he was 2 years older than me, and he lived in the next state over. At my last month’s session, Dr. Quinton had suggested that I might like Michael. I insisted that I didn’t, nevermind the fluttery feeling in my stomach whenever I thought about him. I told Michael about what Dr. Quinton had said, but he was confused. I tried to explain to him what I was talking about, because surely he had to do the same thing? He told me he had never heard of that, and asked me why I had to go to these meetings anyways. It occured to me then that I didn’t actually know. I had just accepted that they were a part of my life. I decided that I would ask my parents, and bring answers back to Michael. However, when I asked them, they just brushed me off. Told me something about me being a “special case”, and I would understand when I was older. I don’t know why I thought I could get a straight answer out of them, they always kept me in the dark about things. Every time I spoke to them, they looked either exhausted or some other emotion I couldn’t place. Fearful, maybe?
During my next session, I asked Dr. Quinton about it, because maybe he could tell me the truth. He seemed shocked and annoyed that my parents had never told me. He said that I was part of an experiment tracking childhood development. That was it? Why wouldn’t my parents tell me that? I, too, was annoyed at them for keeping this secret from me. There was a much harsher tone to their conversation with Dr. Quinton that day, and I didn’t speak a word to them the rest of the evening.
This was the beginning of my phase of rebellion. I gradually withdrew from my parents, spending more time talking to Michael. One day, he sent me a link to an animation about the fighting game we played. This animation was much bloodier than the actual game, and while I was grossed out by it, I was also fascinated. This felt so edgy, like I was watching it just to spite my parents. I asked him to send me more things like that in the future, and he obliged. He sent me more gory animations, starting with ones about the game, then moving onto animations of violence in general. I loved feeling the rush of rebelling against the control of my parents; of seeing what i wasn’t meant to see.
About a year passed, and Michael and I’s conversations turned more flirty in nature. It began with occasional compliments to each other, and turned more romantic as time went on. One night, he confessed to me that he loved me. He asked me to be his girlfriend. Of course, I said yes. This felt more exciting, more rebellious, than those videos ever had! I didn’t want my parents to know about this, but it wasn’t like they cared anyways. We barely spoke to each other anymore, and they were hardly eating or sleeping. The only interaction we had was them bringing me to sessions. I opened up less and less to Dr. Quinton too, in case he said anything to my parents. It all felt so wonderfully devious.
“Now that you’re my girlfriend, can I show you something secret?” Michael asked. I told him that whatever he wanted to show me would be safe, because I loved him. I don’t know if I actually loved him; maybe it was just wild 14 year old hormones. He sent me a video, another gory one. However, this one was real. It had real people instead of cartoons. This is exactly what I was looking for. I had become desensitized to the animations, and I needed a bigger rush. I told him I loved it, and I wanted more. That’s exactly what I got.
I no longer felt anything but disgust for my parents, who by this point basically looked like living zombies. I did not see any humanity in their eyes anymore, only exhaustion. It wasn’t like they could even stand to look at me anyways. Did they find out about the videos, was that it? Whatever it was, it just fueled the rage that burned inside me, and I didn’t try to hide it. I only let them take me to the meetings so I could talk to Dr. Quinton, who now felt like more of a parent to me than they ever had.
They must have confided in Dr. Quinton, because after one of my visits when I was 16, where Dr. Quinton had advised me to “confide in people my own age”, they brought back a new device. They attached it to my neck, and Dr. Quinton explained, in his sweet fatherly tone, that it was a shock collar, and was “for my own good”. I was so surprised by this, I couldn’t even put up a fight at first. It wasn’t until later that the situation fully hit me. So my parents could torture me, with permission from this doctor. I tried to get it off, but it automatically shocked me when I touched it. It seemed like that plan wouldn’t work.
I asked Michael to send me videos of women who looked like my mother getting tortured. I revelled in these sick and twisted fantasies, joking about ways I could kill her and my father with Michael. I wondered if I could actually do that and get away with it. The only person who would even notice they were gone would be Dr. Quinton, and I wasn’t too concerned about him doing anything. He would probably just write it down in his dumb little notebook.
The next night, I found my mother sitting on the couch, holding the remote to the shock collar.
“Touch that thing and I’ll kill you” I threatened, which were the first words I had said to her in months. I didn’t know if I was serious or not, but she must have assumed it was a serious threat. I watched the exhaustion in her eyes turn to rage, and she looked me in the eyes for the first time in as long as I could remember. We had a short stare off, then she pressed the button.
The immediate shock was enough to bring me to my knees, screaming, but she just kept pressing. My muscles tensed up until I couldn’t even breathe anymore, let alone scream for help. It felt like every inch of my body was on fire, as I rolled on the floor, unable to do anything else. When she finally stopped, she didn’t say anything to me. She just turned away, not even daring to look at the sobbing mess that was her daughter.
My first thought was to call the police, but I was afraid they would look through my laptop, and see all of Michael and I’s conversations, so my mother could plead in self defense. So, I messaged Michael and told him everything, asking what I should do.
“Kill them, for real this time”
His suggestion sent shivers down my spine, and excitement through my veins. Could I really do it? The problem would be gone if they were gone. Michael suggested that after I kill them, he would drive to my city to come pick me up, since he was 18 now. The two of them could be left to rot like they deserved, and Michael and I could live a happy life together. As much as I liked the prospect, I decided I should at least give them one more chance. Maybe, I could get my mom to apologize, and I could begin to rekindle a relationship with my parents. I approached my mother.
“Mom, please. I’m sorry if I’ve been a bad daughter recently. Can we please just put this behind us?”, I pleaded. Still facing away from me, she said in a monotone voice:
“You aren’t my daughter. You never were. You’re just the disgusting thing that Dr. Quinton pays me to put up with”
She was getting paid for this the whole time? She was able to do the bare minimum in parenting, and get money for it. Why was I thinking that I could rekindle a relationship that never existed to begin with? She never cared about me! Neither did my father! And if Dr. Quinton had paid these horrible people to torture me like this, then he must not care about me either! The only person who ever really cared about me was Michael, and now i wanted to take him up on his offer to run away with him, and leave this entire life behind.
I didn’t even notice I was strangling her until she was already dead. Her weak, malnourished form hardly put up a fight against me, and I had watched enough videos of people getting strangled to have a rough estimate on how it works. I took a step back from what I had done. I expected to feel horror, disgust, remorse, but all I felt was relief. Too late to turn back now, I supposed.
Next was my father. While he never was as cruel as my mother, he was complacent, which made him just as guilty. For him, I grabbed a small knife from the kitchen, opting to slit his throat while he slept on the couch. This was much easier than strangling my mother, and it was over within no time.
The next thing to do was message Michael. I told him I had done it, and asked him if he could still come pick me up. He congratulated me on having the courage to finally do it, and said he would be there by tomorrow morning. All I needed to do was drift into a peaceful sleep, now free from the burden that was my parents.
The next morning, I was awoken by a knock at the door. It must have been Michael! I quickly changed out of pajamas, which still had some spots of my father’s blood, into the nicest outfit I owned. I had to make a good first impression, after all. I took a deep breath, and opened the door.
I was not greeted by an 18 year old boy, but rather the old face of Dr. Quinton. He held a phone in his hand, which was open to a conversation between me and Michael. He gave me one of his classic fatherly smiles
“Congratulations on finally completing the experiment, my dear, this is the quickest time it’s ever taken you to kill them. In just a few hours, the simulation will reset. Maybe we can get you to do it even quicker this time”