Faked

Decided to try and write a story alone. This is a fan fiction based on the story Skinned. I recommend this story for those who hate judgmental people. There is two other books in the series that I know about.

But back to my story. This story is like Skinned with some different details. First updates might be short. Hope y'all like it.
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Chapter 1

Darkness. That's all I could see. Except for one memory that I could see, playing over and over in my mind. I couldn't hear my parents or brother or sister. I couldn't hear the doctors that kept me alive. All I could hear was what was in that one memory.

My little brother wanted to go to a party. My little sister wanted me to babysit for her. They expected me to go where they wanted me to go. And I agreed to it. My little sister took my little brother to the party while I went to go baby sit.

I got in the car, told it the coordinates, and let it go. I sat in the car, listening to the music that I had selected. All the while I played back the words my little sister had said.

"Mia! Just do this for me!" she yelled.

"No! This isn't the first time you've skipped babysitting! You need to learn responsibility!" I yelled back. No one could hear the yelling except for myself and my siblings. My parents were out. At a party. Which figures.

"Come on, Mia! I've done so much! You won't have to take Dalton to the party!"

"Fine! You damn brat!" I yelled, grabbing my keys.

"You are such a hard ass!" she yelled and stormed to her room. I walked out and did what anyone would do. Get in the car and go. I waited as the car took a too sharp turn, flipping the car and myself over a cliff not too far away. I saw my life flash before my eyes. My childhood. The beginning of high school. Everything that had mattered once flashed in front of me.

That's what got me here. And that's how it was with my sister. She's worse than I am when it came to disobedience. She hates me. She hates being in my shadow. She hates being in this time period. But that doesn't matter now.

She's be in the spotlight bow since what happened. But that's not what matters. What matters is that I can't see yet. Or hear. Or speak. Or even move. I don't even seem to have a body. Yet.
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Like I said, short. Sorry.

 

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Chapter 2

I've been collecting my thoughts for weeks. Finally, I can hear. And I can see. I look around me, wanting to know who is taking care of me. I blink once, my eyes adjusting to see my family. My mother, father and siblings. They stare at me, my mother and father smiling while my sister seems emotionless. My brother seems scared of me even though I don't know why.

Suddenly a doctor comes into view. He smiles at me, knowing I can see him.

"Hello, Mia. I'm Doctor Merriam. I've brought you back," he says, still smiling. I just blink, not feeling my mouth or any other part of my body.

"You understand, right? Blink once for no and twice for yes." I look at him, blinking twice.

"Excellent. Do you remember what happened?"

Two blinks.

"Do you know where you are?"

Two again.

"Do you know why?"

One.

"You are here because your parents want to keep you alive." I just stare at him.

"Would you like to see your body?"

Two. He nods and picks up my limp body. He places me in a wheel chair and pushes me into a different room. It's a loud process, considering the others in the hospital. I hear robotic voices coming from some rooms, real voices from others, and some screaming. If I could, I would scream as well.

We soon arrive at a room and I close my eyes as he opens the door. He pushes me into the room, waiting for me to open my eyes. I do, seeing myself as I would have normally.

I still have my black hair with the multicolored highlights, but it seems like doll hair. I still have my grey eyes, but they seem glassy, lifeless. I still have the tan skin, but it looks so plastic, so fake, so abnormal. I'm so skinny, but it seems too skinny. The white medical gown I wear seems to swallow up my body. My legs are still long and tan, but still plastic. My arms are the same way, beautiful long arms that just look fake as hell.

I look like the normal girl my friends would see at school. I am perfect as I normally was. But I don't like the look. The person I see in the mirror looks like me, but seems so lifeless, even as I blink. I look like a doll, only life sized and fully functional.

"Do you like it?" he asks. I blink twice to make sure he doesn't try for a new body or new look. Every body would be worse than the one before. My body is custom, unlike others that some see on the television. It is my style. My look. My natural way. But no matter what, I hate it.
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A bit longer. Like?

 

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Chapter 3

Days have passed. Now they have wired a machine to my brain so they can hear my thoughts. It's tiring trying to keep my thoughts away from them. But I manage.

"So, what do you think?" Dr. Merriam asks me.

Seems legit. If they've wanted to talk to me, they should have already, the machine said for me. It was helpful. And I love to use it when needed.

"They want to see you," he says simply.

Then let them see me. My brother seems like he is going to faint as we speak. I watch my little brother as it says this, knowing its the truth. His eyes are as wide as saucers. His mouth is wide open, shocked at what the machine is saying.

"Alright then," he says, motioning them to come into the room. They do, watching me.

"Hello, Mia," my father says.

Father. Mother. Leah. Dalton, the machine says. I stare at them, watching their expressions. My mother is grieving. My bother is frozen in fear. My father is emotionless. My sister is looking at my body in disgust. They all are their own. It's sad how everyone of my family looks except for my sister. She understands how I feel just by looking at me.

My mother whispers something I can't hear.

Why can't you speak up, Mother?

"I'm sorry, Mia, dear. I asked how you were," she says, stuttering slightly.

What a silly question. I'm feeling nothing except for my eyes. How would you feel if you were in my position? Not great. I feel so lifeless. My mother looks at me stunned. She seems so saddened by the truth.

"How could you say such a thing?" my father asks.

I'm not saying it. I'm thinking it. I'm thinking the truth. It's all I have. I might as well think the truth. It's my father's turn to look shocked. It's funny to me. But I push that thought far back in my mind. If it's let out, that could ruin my family.

"Alright then," he says and leaves with my mother. My brother runs outs with them, scared out of his mind. My sister shakes her head, still disgusted, and walks out. I sigh mentally and close my eyes, ready for all of this to be over.

Chapter 4

I throw the ball at Dr. Merriam, happy to be able to use my arms. I can now talk too.

"Good job, Mia," he says happily.

"Whatever," I say, closing eyes at it, not used to my voice. It was my voice, but it wasn't. It was electronic. It sounded so much like me, but it wasn't at all mine. We keep throwing the ball towards each other. It so boring.

"I'll be back later," he says, walking out of the room. I sigh happily and turn my wheelchair towards a computer that they have given me. I turn it on, wanting to see what's new. It's been weeks since I last checked my av. And the world on the outside.

I finally get to my av to find tons of messages. There're all hate mail. They know what I've become. They know where I'm at. The only one who doesn't leave hate mail is my boyfriend. He only leaves one message. He hopes that I'll feel better and he wishes to visit, but he's too busy. But I don't believe him.

I look at the av that took me months to complete. It was unique. The wings had taken the longest to add. Everything was perfect then. Now it's not perfect. I have no one to show it to. No one to talk to. No one to even have a little fun with.

They all think I'm a monster. And I am. I am a Faker. A Faker, a machine with a soul. A machine with a brain. A machine taking place of a human. A machine everyone hates. But people do it anyway. And the alive hate the Fakers. And they now hate me.
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Chapter 5

I walk slowly, holding onto the rails. It's been almost three months since I've been on the outside world. Walking is my last step. Then I'm home free. But even then I'll have a weight on my shoulders.

"Good, Mia. You're doing well," my doctor says.

"Thanks," I say sarcastically. I keep walking. This goes on for three hours until I let go of the railing, finally walking on my own. I smile at my progress. I can finally get away from this hell hole. Three months has been three months too many.

"Congrats, Mia," I hear from my doctor as I hear clapping. I turn to see my family clapping for me. Except for my sister. She is still disgusted at what I have become. And I don't blame her. I hate what I've become as well. It's not me.

I walk out of the room and head to mine. I peer into some rooms to see patients that were once dead. They are all future Fakers. Some are close to leaving. Others just arrived. Most were quiet. A rare few could speak. And the remainder use a machine to speak. Some look like many I've seen on the television. Most I haven't seen yet, but some look alike. And there are very rare few that have custom made bodies.

I feel sorry for them. But I'm the same. One who should be dead. But someone decided to reverse the laws of nature and make me into a Faker. I would rather be dead. You may be thinking, "Why would you rather be dead?" I would rather be dead and have the respect from others that I was dead than being hated and being alive. Then I would be happy. But, now, no. Over all, I just want to be dead.

Chapter 6

I sit in the car, watching the scenery. My brother is sitting beside me and my sister is sitting on the other side of the car. My mother and father are sitting in the front quietly. I can feel my brother's eyes on me, watching for my every move.

I don't pay any attention and keep watching the scenery pass by, not missing a blink of it. But that's because I don't have to blink. Like I don't breath, eat, drink, or anything else a human needs to do. But I need to sleep. That's the one of the few things I do need. It's strange but I know that I'll get used to it.

Soon we are home. And soon I'll be in the wasteland called school, listening to everyone call me names, shun me, hate me. It won't matter though. One last year of school and I'm free.

I walk into the house and head straight to my room. I slam the door with a scary amount of strength. I need to get a hold of that. I sigh and fall onto my bed, pissed at the world. Mainly my parents. They did this to me. I don't want to be here. But they missed their first born too much to let me go.

I stand and walk over to my computer. When I get rid of the screen saver I see so much more hate mail. Great. I delete it all and try to talk to the one person who might still love me. But he isn't online. So, I leave a message.

"Hey, Dylan. I'm out, finally. Come see me. Miss you," I say as it records my message. It's not much, but what else can I say? "I'm now a Faker and I am so emotionless and fake that you should come talk to me?" No. It would just scare him even more. I send him the very short message and sigh. He won't come over. He's as scared as everyone else.

I grumble to myself and walk over to my endless closet. I grab a white tank and white shorts. I pull off the clothes they gave me at the hospital and slip on the running wear. I pull on some sneakers and walk out of my room.

"I'm going running," I call, not even sure if they want to hear the machine that replaced their daughter and sibling.

"Be back by dinner," my father calls back. Dinner. One thing I don't need. Food. If I eat it gets in my teeth. I have to wash it out. It doesn't go anywhere. It is meaningless to my survival. He knows that. He must have said that by instinct.

I walk out of my house and head for the woods, which are my only place for solitude. I count the step mentally, my new computer brain keeping count easily. I don't even pay attention to where I'm going. I wait for my legs to get tired as I run. But they don't. They can't wear out so easily. I could run the same pace for miles and not feel tired. It's meaningless. I stop myself and look around to see where I am.

"The lake," I smile. The lake was my favorite place to be. It was quiet, peaceful. No one was around. No one to stare. No one to whisper. Just my thoughts. I walk over to it and sit down, my feet lightly touching to surface. I pull off my shoes and let my feet rest in the cool, relaxing water. It doesn't short circuit my brain. It just feels cool against my forever fake skin. I decide to jump in, not even blinking at the coolness. Thanks to the water proof skin I can't short circuit. One of the few benefits of being a Faker. I sit in the lake thinking about school tomorrow.

What will happen? I know I'll be cut for track since it's cheating to have a Faker that never wears out on the team. I know that I won't have any friends. I know that my sister will be in the spotlight, but still put down for having a Faker in the family. My little brother will live in my sister's spotlight instead of being free of himself. My father and mother will still want to go to parties, other people thinking at keeping your daughter alive is smart but soon shunning them. It's the stupidness of my family getting them into the worst of situations. This is a family gifted by hell.
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