I watched my blood fill the fat syringe. I felt the device's pull as I started to feel drowsy as the crimson liquid went up its barrel. After the tourniquet was untied from my arm, the person in a very weird, white suit left without a word.

And then, I was left. I knew long before that these people didn't treat me like them—like a human being—instead I was regarded like an object that wouldn't feel basically anything.

The new place was no different from the old ...