To: Nobody in particular.

Subject: HELP!

My parents are both scientists. They work for the 'benefit of humanity' in a secret lab called Genet. You pronounce it 'jean-ette'. The lab is located underground because their work is supposed to be top-secret – no one can know about it except for us and my parents' colleagues. Well, no one should. They trust me with the information since I'm seventeen, intelligent and mainly, I have no friends to tell.

Here's the sob story...

When I was born, I had a distorted face – there was no explanation as to why this happened or how my face could be fixed. The doctors at the lab said it was fine and that it wasn't necessary for me to undergo any surgery since my brain and everything else was working exceptionally well. They offered to do minor surgeries if my parents were up for it.

My parents, on the other hand, felt that they couldn't bear to have a child with such a horrific appearance, so they made me their new project instead, denying the doctor's offer. I became the fresh code to crack and problem to fix. Their next big experiment. You've got to hand it to them, however, they did a pretty great job – even though it was done rather inconsiderately. Since they majored in gene technology and knew all about what exactly made a human being, their efforts weren't wasted – I turned out beautiful, yet incredibly odd at the same time.

Sure, I now have a stubby nose and a heart-shaped face like what most girls wish to have for a face (as far as what one of the scientists had told me). But, I turned out near-blind and abnormally soft-spoken for reasons I was never told.

Later on, I became a victim of several more of their experiments. When I was twelve, they invented a new substance that was to be applied on a bald head to grant a person fast-growing hair. Using my head as the test-subject, they shaved it and applied the strange cream. Unfortunately, the results didn't turn out as they so hopefully expected – my hair instead went white very fast, growing in the colour of an elderly person's hair. Now, I had to cut it every month due to its quick growth and bear the feeling of being a human-sized Arthur from that one animated film.

After living under their poor excuse of a roof for seventeen years, I've decided to run away. I haven't seen sunlight in quite a while ever since we moved underground due to the apparently increasing possibility of being tracked down by people living on surrounding land. Of course, I never thought living smack-dab in the middle of nowhere on a tiny desert-island practically unknown to the world and surrounded by countless miles of ocean wasn't as untraceable as we could get.

I've asked my parents how we've been surviving without any human interaction or civilisation around us, but apparently that's top-secret on a whole new level which I haven't reached yet.

Of course, that's my problem. I'm ready to run, but I've got nowhere to go and no method of transport.

That's all for now – I think my parents are calling me.

Hoping,

Someone Who Needs Help