D.N.A: Does Not Assimilate

Silence enveloped her.

The bright lights burned her eyes. The cold seeped into her bones. There was a chill in the air.

Lying there on her back on the expanse of the hard and lumpy cot, Niyota stared listlessly up at the ceiling of her tiny cell. Blanking she tracked every inch of her enclosed chambers, every detail wasn't missed by her. The tiny holes in the ceiling above, the chips in the paint, the blood stains no one could scrub out of the floor.

God, she hated it here.

The silence was the worst.

Flying off the bed as the nausea slammed into her solar plexus, Niyota stalked to the far side of the cell. Without a thought for her actions, she jumped up and latched onto the bar overhead. Using brute strength to lift her body up into the air, she began completing the first set of pull-ups. Up and down she went, exerting her body, forcing her body to the limit, until she was covered in sweat. And still she pushed herself further on until every inch of her burned from fire and her lungs felt like they were on fire.

Letting her grasp on the bar go when she'd finished the third set of pull-ups, she dropped to the ground. In the next moment, she dropped lower, until she was balanced on her hands, beginning pushups. Just like the first round of exercise she failed to care about the exhaustion, focused on her workout regime. The same one she'd begun the first morning she woke up in the cell, Niyota using it to work out her problems.

It was these workouts that were the only thing that'd kept her sane these passing days. That had kept her from going completely out of her mind. Because all her mind seemed capable of thinking is the fact she was locked up, while an imposter took over her life. An imposter living in the home of her father, mashed into the lives of her friends, her boyfriend. God, only knew what the girl planned for those in town.

Why was she doing this? Why had she stolen her life? What could be the game plan? How had she stolen her face? On and on the questions swirled around inside of her head, plaguing her with worry and fear. Niyota hated the uncertainty her life had become these past weeks, the terror that awaited her in the future. All she could think about was her beloved daddy, sharing a home with that girl, unaware of the dangers in his life.

God, how had her life come to this?

How could this be happening?

This whole thing was a fucked up scenario from one of those weird movies Lance was always making her watch. A teenage girl wakes up to find she's missed an entire year of her life, to find a doppelgänger took over her life. Yeah, definitely not something Niyota ever imagined could be happening to her, but alas the outcome was the same. This wasn't a movie. Nor a dream. It was real life and it was happening to her. "Damn girl," a voice grunted. "Don't ya ever sleep?"

Niyota snapped her head up from the set of curls she'd been working on, astonished at the voice. As it turned out she wasn't as alone down there as she thought, someone else had joined her. She knew that voice. "Jessie?" A giggling laughter came. "That's my name, don't wear it out."

Flipping her body away from the edge of the bed where she'd dangled, she came to stand to her feet. "When did you get down here?"

"Sometime last night," Jessie freely offered the answer she'd been looking for, movement came from the far cell. "I guess the guards weren't too thrilled at being hit by a girl, so I found myself thrown in the dungeon."

Just a heads up: FindNovel.net is the only place to read the complete version of this book for free. Don't miss out on the next chapter-visit us now and continue your journey!

"That was days ago," she reminded her.

Shuffling came from the cell Jessie was presently housed in, proof that she'd climbed up from bed too. "Yeah, Doctor Smartass wasn't too thrilled, so he elected another round of therapy was in order." "Therapy?" she wondered.

"Electroshock therapy?"

"Seriously?" They still did that shit? Niyota had heard a lot about the barbaric practices some of the doctors used on the mentally disabled. Yet, she'd always imagined that those were old practices no longer used in modern times. Clearly she was wrong.

"Yep," she grunted without question. "the doctor is reel big on making his patients face the error of their ways, no matter the means he takes. So a thousand volts later and I'm cured. Tada."

Niyota grimaced at the thought of what Jessie had endured, shivering at the knowledge of the treatment. Her only experience came from the movies, having never been able to watch as patients endured the abuse. And it was abuse, no matter the reasons. To send a thousand volts of electricity through a person's body, as if that would suddenly cure them. Niyota became frightened of what the doctor would do to her, if he felt like he didn't have a choice.

She took a deep breath. "Does he do it often?"

"No, just for the hard cases."

By hard cases, she meant the ones he wasn't able to cure with the less barbaric practices. Cases like her. Niyota had proven just how difficult her peculiar case could be, her determination to hold onto the fantasy. Or fantasy to them, unaware of just how truthful she was being. She became frightened that the doctor would use electroshock therapy on her too, when nothing else could "cure" her.

"Why'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Hit the guard," Niyota offered the answer she was looking for, her own curiosity getting the better of her.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Jessie," she admonished. "Tell me?"

Jessie was pacing the floor from the shuffling of footsteps she could hear, which was followed by a heartfelt sigh. "Because you are my friend Niyota and I wanted to talk to you. Getting down here was the only way."

Niyota was struck dumb by her answer. Honestly she didn't know what to say. Granted, she'd had plenty of friends over the years, but none of them were like Jessie. In the blink of an eye she'd developed a friendship and attachment that was pretty strong for their limited interaction. So much so that she'd literally punched a man in the face, a guard no less, to be able to talk to her