Evidence

CW: Physical violence, gore, abuse, torture

Even if I stayed in a simple cup for most of my life - well, not counting all the time I spent in the sealed container in this place called supermarket -, I’ve seen stuff. A lot of different stuff.

My first months of life after getting out my sealed box where quite dull: I did the job I was made for whenever I was asked to, otherwise I simply stayed there in the cup. My job was dirty as I got to know whatever my user had eaten, and it wasn’t always pleasing.

For all the time I’ve got some in-the-cup friends. It was nice to have some company. We usually passed our time to tease one of us that was particular as it worked with electricity. We mocked it because, without the electric current to charge it, it wouldn’t work, while we were perfectly functional all the time. We really believed that we were definitely sure better; but thinking about it now, after all, it was stupid by us. We were just different, both of us with advantages and disadvantages, trying to be best at doing our job.

From my cup I had a quite good view on the room I was in, and I’ve saw different things happening. I’ve seen people having a lot to do with something that I’ve learned it’s called toilet, staying sat for a long time (it happened more than once that, after getting up, they started walking funny), or staying beside it for a very short time. I’ve seen people naked going to do something in this so-called shower box, sometimes alone, sometimes not.

These were my quiet days.

One day, though, my user got me out of my cup, and putted me in a big bag along with a lot of other things. After this, I’ve never saw my in-the-cup friends or that room once more.

After some time in that big bag, I was taken out in this very little room, totally different as the previous one: it still had a toilet and a little sink, but all the other things that I was used to see were not in there. There was only this little rectangle which is called bed. In this new room, I’ve being putted in a different - and less comfortable, I would say - cup.

Since then, my days went back to be dull once again and, as the time passed, I’ve learned that we were in this place named prison. Still, I’ve seen some interesting things in there too!

For example, my user started being more time in the same room as mine, and that was nice. Even if we couldn’t communicate to one another, I can say that we took each other company with our simple presence. I wondered more than once if my user ever thought the same or something similar, but I think, now, that theirs were on a quite different topic.

Despite I wasn’t sure, I’ve felt more tension in the air and my user seemed to be more down and worried most of the time, or alarmed. In particular when some conspecifics of their started coming in our room. At first, it was a visit every once in a while, but then it started to be more often.

Anyway, sadly, even these calm days were bound to end.

One day, a different hand that wasn’t my user’s took me violently and brought me away. Shortly after, I was thrown brutally and I slid on the floor while whoever brought me there went away pretty quickly. Luckily, the well known hand of my user took me up, even though it was quite dirty and sweaty respect then the usual.

We were in this very big place that seemed to me to have a lot of those things called showers, but they were all opened, there were no boxes around them. Also, there were five more fellows of my user with us. They seemed to be very interested to watch us, to look down on us from above more precisely, as we where strangely nearby the floor. At least, they were happy. They were having fun. Or that was my sensation, I’m not a psychologist. Regardless, these friends (or maybe they were not) and my user were naked. Not sure if that meant something, mainly as we all were surrounded by showers and in my previous room I learned that everyone enters there naked, but I have the sensation that it can be a hint.

Sadly, once again, my luck lasted very shortly as my user started to use me in a totally different way as before: to clean dirty places on the floor! I was so shocked that realizing how much filthy I’ve got on took me a while, before my disgust kicked in.

Then I had an epiphany: my user was forced to do it, it was not consensual! That should be it, as their palm of the hand that was holding me was very sweaty.

Either way, that was the beginning of hell.

After we had done with that weird job that exploited my bristles, those fellows seemed to loose interest in us and left.

Once we were back to our room, my user tried to clean me, but it was really a lost cause. There was too much sticky stuff that would have made me throw up, if I could, that seemed to be impossible to get rid of. I was no more useful to my user and they were upset. They were so upset to throw me against a wall, but then they started crying. Maybe it was because they lost my usefulness? Or maybe, because something happened in the place we were just moments ago, before I got brought there.

Nevertheless, a little bit later I was took up and deprived of my bristles. It was hard to accept that as they were my pride, even if they were completely ruined after that weird job we had. I was also tortured after I’ve got brutally shaved: with a single and little flame I’ve got my head deformed and floppy. Then, something thin and metallic was pushed in the middle of my ruined head: it was very sharp and adamant and from that moment onward I was inevitably bound with it. I’ve no idea why my user attached to me a razor blade.

Just a side note, that was the worst day of my life.

Soon after all that happened and my head went back to be cold and hard, I’ve got hold tightly by my user, whose hand was sweating once again. They grabbed firmly the side of the razor blade and tried to pull it out of my head. Sadly, it didn’t happened, but my user seemed to be relieved by that.

We got out of the room I usually stayed in, and I was brought somewhere else. Sorry, I don’t actually know where this “somewhere” is, as I’m not a compass, but it was another room, identical to ours.

Once we got in there, my user held me beside them, nearby their back, while we got in. Then, abruptly, they moved me very fast and I and my new metallic buddy got drenched in blood. I know blood as it happened more than once that my user, in my long gone dull days, lost a little bit of it while I was doing my honest and the one that I’ve been made for job. My new sharp friend was completely covered by it, while I was partially protected by the sweaty hand of my user.

It was only then, that I’ve saw one of the guys of the same species of my user laid down on a bed, staying still, with this red fluid that was expanding directly beside them. On second thought, it could totally have been blood, the same liquid I and my in-the-middle new buddy got on. Moreover, I really think that the one on the bed was one of the buddies I got to know in the showers.

Next, I was simply dropped and my user got away quickly.

After all that, I’ve spent days in this big room, with no one but various stuff wrapped in bags. These bags had written on a number, I guess, on a tag.

Sometimes I happened to see a conspecific of my user to pass close, putting here and there more bagged stuff, or just to dig out a specific bag beside all the others, check it, and then put it back.

I really couldn’t get a clue about where I was and what was happening. I just would have liked to see my user once again. I craved to know why they tortured me also and putted that cold and metallic new friend in the middle of my head.

Luckily, as the time passed staying there, I’ve got to know what that place was: it was a police office’s room and I was what they call evidence. To me, it sounded nice as it gave me some important meaning, even though I’m bristle-free now.

Then, one day, it happened to me too. Someone took the sealed bag I was in and brought me to a new room. It was quite big, with only something called a table in the middle of it. And, guess what, there was even my user! It made me so happy to see them!

Once I was placed on the table, I noticed that there was also another person sat next to my user. Moreover, the fellow who gently brought me there sat at the table too, on the opposite side of my user, with someone next. So, I was surrounded.

They talked for a lot of time in this, as I got to learn it’s called, questioning. My user was for all the time with a bent position, head down, talking the minimum necessary.

So, this is my testimony, counselor.

Or at least I would like to say it, but as I’m still wrapped in this bag and no one can hear or comprehend me, I can just stay here, waiting to the case to be closed, and then I’ll probably be thrown away and get burned to a crisp.

It’s hard to be a toothbrush.