Amnesia and Star Child

I stir slowly, feeling sick and weak all over.
What happened?
I groan and look around the room, finding myself somewhere unfamiliar, I go to sit up - but I can’t.
I can’t do anything - my wrists and legs are strapped to the ground, and I’m gagged - what the fuck happened?!
“Morning hybrid...” a menacing voice says.
I turn my head and see a group of white hooded figures standing towards the edge of the room next to the door. One steps forwards and looks down at me with a sneer playing across his shielded features.
Shiiiit...
“Okay, can you see? This one is almost bred out.” He says, turning to look at the others.
A smaller hooded person - a kid - walks over and looks down at me, watching intensely as the older man explains.
He crouches down and holds onto my hair, keeping my head still as he teaches.
“I’m guessing he’s a quadroon or maybe one less, because he looks almost Caucasian, but... If you look carefully, you can see the Mongoloid blood. Now, one way you can tell this, is by their facial features. This one has the nose of a Mongoloid; his eyes are brown and slightly shaped like a Mongoloids too, and if you look carefully, you can see his brow ridge is underdeveloped... Another Mongoloid characteristic. Now, his skin...” The man looks at the boy who I guess to be about thirteen, then back at me and pinches my cheek. “His skin isn’t quite Mongoloid colour, but he’s not white either. You can’t rely on skin color alone, because it’s prone to change, weathering, like sun tan and such. Now, the final evidence of this hybrid’s impure bloodlines is his hair -”
“But it’s dyed blue.” The boy interjects.
“Quite right - but look here...” The man flattens my hair back so the kid can get a closer look at the roots of my hair.
“This dye hasn’t been redone, and you can see, underneath, his hair is black.” The man smirks.
“It’s straight too. That’s Mongoloid too right?” The boy asks.
“Exactly.” The man stands up, and puts a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “So what does he deserve?”
“Death.” The kid proudly states.
“Correct, but rituals must be performed first. To weaken his filthy blood to our pure lines.” The man turns back to me. “Now, do you know what those rituals are?”
I hate to think, but the question is aimed at the kid.
“Seeding by pure lines, bleeding out, and slave labor.” The boy says.
“Excellent! Boy you’re growing up so fast!” The psycho guy grips the kid’s shoulder tightly and then pats him on the back.
The boy grins with pride at the praise and spits at me. Suddenly -
“Okay everyone, it’s time to go. There’s another hybrid out in the eastern sector we need to address.” Another white hood appears in the doorway.
Everyone hurries out, the boy in hot pursuit - eager, but the teacher remains; staring down at my like I’m filth.
A smile curls onto his lips.
“So, we meet again. Blue.” He sneers.
I strain against the buckles, suddenly realizing who this guy is - it’s him - the psycho dude - holy fuck!
“Hush, hush, everything is going to be well taken care of...” He sits down next to me and presses down on my crotch and uses his other hand to stroke my face. “You are just here for cleansing. Nothing to worry about. Death will be painless trust me, and besides - I’m sure you have been waiting for it... Dear me Blue, you looked so close to suicide... It’s a shame that E.T. of yours is a healer.” He chuckles and appears to become thoughtful. “You know these walls are soundproof? For good reason - we wouldn’t want people barging in on our little sect of the Ku Klux Klan now would we? You’re a beauty Blue; you’ve truly grown up to be a handsome man. But you’re a hybrid, and they have no right to life. We are not against the Inferiors, oh no, but there can only be clear cut lines Blue, there can only be Mongoloids, Caucasians and Negroids. Not Caucasians cross Mongoloids, not Caucasians cross Negroids. It’s not right for Inferiors to dirty the blood of The Superiors.”
I shake my head violently and struggle against the bonds.
“Shhh... Easy, easy... You’re worth nothing Blue - you’re just a filthy, groveling mongrel.” He stands up and stomps on my crotch - I scream out in pain, and he shrieks in laughter, cackling all the way out the door, still giggling when he closes the room tight.
I blink back tears of pain and stare up at the ceiling, silently praying that someone will find me - whether it be Rosie, or a person from next door - I don’t care.
And then, I pray that if they don’t, the Ku Klux Klan will just kill me quickly.