Destruction - The Oasis Project Book 2 (Complete)

Three - Ira

It was Doctor A who had shown me the first shred of genuine kindness around here, and I almost fell for it. Out of all the people I remembered clearly, Doctor A was one of the few I had vivid memories of. The needles and cold words I'd recalled from the past made me scrunch up my face at her, but I was so weak, so exhausted, and when Doctor A helped me hobble to my new room I collapsed as soon as she opened the door. It was sleek, clean, and comfortable. Strange sounds exited my throat when Doctor A gently asked if I liked it. I would be lying if I said I didn't, but I knew that this was one of their manipulations, to mould me after they thought they'd broken me. I just stood there and said nothing. Doctor A helped me into the bathroom, peeled off my stinking clothes and ran the bath. When she helped scrub me clean with a soft sponge, I was on the verge of fainting.

I once severely questioned Doctor A's ability to mother, something that I thought was impossible when I found out that she was Desmond's mom. She didn't say much as she helped me into a dressing gown, but she knew what she was doing. The doctor pulled up a soft chair and sat me in it as she proceeded to dry my frayed long hair.

"You're invaluable, Ira," she told me as she blew my dark hair this way and that, her firm voice differing from the woman who spoke to me in the dark cell. I had so many things to say back - shut up, what do you mean, what is going on, where am I - but I had no energy to utter a single word. When my hair was finally dry, although a bit frizzled, Doctor A propped me up by the shoulder and walked me to the double bed, her expression entirely serious. She was just doing her job, but I was so grateful to have human contact and to be cared for in the slightest. "Good night, Ira," she said, before walking out quietly in her flats. The lights flickered off not long after she shut the door.

󠁌♟♙♟♙

In the morning, Doctor A pushed a steaming trolley into the room and the aroma of breakfast was like heaven. I didn't even have to be woken up; I sat up weakly on the bed and laughed like I had respiratory problems. It was like staying at a fancy hotel, or what I imagined it to be like anyway - I'd never stayed at one before.

"Stay there," Doctor A said, nothing like the cruel woman in my hazy mind but not the warmest of people, either. She set the tray of food on my bony legs, letting me stare at the omelette, toast, and yoghurt in awe. "Is that fine?"

It was more than fine. I polished everything off maybe a bit too fast and felt slightly dizzy at the end as blood rushed to my stomach. When Doctor A asked me if I was okay, I nodded, hoping that she'd leave me alone. I was hit by a wave of homesickness for a home that never existed for more than a couple of months at a time.

"You need better sustenance," Doctor A said, not noticing my emotions. She took the tray away from my lap and leaned on the trolley. "You'll feel better in no time, One."

I blinked at her. One? She blinked back, unwilling to elaborate. I groaned and slid back under the covers, holding my head in my hands. Doctor A wheeled the trolley away and left me alone.

My head spinning, I ducked under the two fluffy pillows too. The darkness remained a solace, despite the months I spent locked away in it, almost losing my sense of self in isolation. Too many things had happened at once and my constantly racing heart wasn't making my life any easier. Every time I heard Celestia call Desmond by Jaysen's name I felt my heart turn to ice. It was hard to not hate her, hard to not pin everything that had happened to me on Celestia, but it reminded me that they did this to us and it made me furious. I screwed my eyes shut and hoped to the moon that Linkin and Stuart had seen the signs and turned away before they could run into trouble on the island. There was a smudge of a memory of seeing Thierry in trouble, a gun to his head before it slipped from my mind. I hoped that he'd made it off the island safely too, but...

Only think about what you can really remember.

I went to the memory that never failed me. What is your name?

"Ira Konstantinov," I whispered into the pillow.

Do you know where you are? Not a clue.

Where were you before you came here? Stuart's voice was not so clear anymore. A sob choked my breath, and the tears came a few seconds later. I shook my head and curled up tighter, pulling the sheets over my pillow so I could concentrate on the memory. I saw Stuart's caring green eyes, his usual blue sweater, but he didn't move. I couldn't see the little smile that warmed my heart or remember the feeling of his arms around me or his lips on my skin. The more I tried to dig around my mind for it, the more the original image faded.

With a loud cry, I sprung up in my new bed and threw the pillows across the room with all my raging strength. They didn't fly far before they landed on the carpet with a dull thud. I had nothing but hatred, for this place, for these people, even for myself. I was nothing but hatred, and everything else was disappearing fast. If I had known that memories would be so fragile, I would have done so many things differently.

Maybe I wouldn't have ended up here.