RED

Five

Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. I'd burn it all if I could. But if I want to get out of here, it's necessary. That, and another small thing. Docs want to try a new type of therapy. They said that if it worked, I'd be able to get out of their care much faster. Of course, I said yes. A win-win deal, am I right?

Wrong. I'm not sure if the docs here are so sane themselves. Because therapy is not synonymous with agony. Look it up in the thesaurus. Before Louis brings me to the therapy room, he tells me that this is supposed to be an experiment. They honestly don't know what it'll do to me. And since I'm a convicted criminal, I'm the perfect one to test it on.

Today's another therapy day. A crossroads day, as the doctors would say. Depending on what happens, this may or may not be the last session. I don't get my hopes up. Life doesn't usually give me luck.

I shiver as a faceless doctor pushes me against the chair. Why, is it so damn cold? They attach electrodes to my forehead and I take a deep breath, preparing myself. Last time it was some sort of gas. The time before that was a kind of pill that wouldn't let me sleep for the next week. I don't even remember the first session beyond the ringing in my ears. I'm not particularly excited to see what the docs have cooked up this time.

Studying the back of my hands in an attempt to distract myself, my eyes trail to the angry red blisters on my wrists. Red, like –no, no, think of something else. Anything. I look to the ceiling, searching for something to think about. Stars. Good, Jason, keep going. Stars littering the sky like–

I blink, seeing stars myself. I barely feel the pinprick of the needle. I do feel the gnawing cold. That and a rush of something incomprehensible. Something ice-cold and white-hot assaults my senses and I choke down a yelp. Throwing my head against the back of the chair, I wait for the next wave of this untested drug to hit me. My back goes rigid; I hear laughter.

Maniac, crazed. His. The waves come in rapid succession now, timing with the blows of the crowbar. I can do nothing but try not to let my discomfort show. Gritting my teeth, I try to keep myself from writhing, much less screaming aloud.

"Oh, birdie, won't 'ya sing me a song?" he asks, lilting, lunatic. Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he yanks my face toward him for his own inspection. I spit a glob of blood in his face.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, this simply won't do! But don't worry, I've got a solution. Tell me what hurts more; a or b?" The crowbar falls again and I imagine driving it through his chest.

With every blow, it becomes all I can think about, and eventually, I do.

I wake up shaking. I grip the armrests, wild-eyed. For a second, I don't know where I am. All I taste is blood, and it's all I can smell too. It's only until a hand lands on my shoulder do I focus. My first instinct is to knock the sucker out, but my hands are strapped down, wrists rubbed raw again. Thankfully, it's only Louis.

"Louis... what–" I can barely choke out the words.

"Hey, Hoodie, calm down. Lemme help you out here, okay?"

I swallow, nodding slightly.

"I told all the doctors to get out when you came to, so really, drop the mask." He carefully loosens the straps holding me to the chair. I would have fallen to the floor the minute he undid them if he didn't catch me. "Woah, Hoodie, easy there." He eases me back onto the chair to look me over.

I can only imagine what he sees. I feel horrible and I must look even worse. A kid, half-naked and trembling, barely having enough strength to hold himself upright.

"Let's get you cleaned up, how does that sound?"

Cheap soap and lukewarm water. Louis offered to help me. I declined. I don't need more of his pity. I grasp the bar on the wall, not trusting my own legs to hold me. My wrists sting as I wash the blood from them, and I let myself wince. As the blood swirls into the drain, I try not to think about what I just saw, albeit it being a nightmarish memory.

Dragging myself out of the showers, I find Louis quickly. He helps me to my room. I'm too tired to complain.

"I got some news," he says, once I'm finally in my room. "The docs like your results from today. They said you could leave as early as tomorrow if you wanted."

"What about tonight?" I don't want to spend another second in this place. Plus, I desperately need some of my supplies. I can almost see the waters of the Lazarus, lapping slowly.

"Don't you want to rest first?"

I shake my head. I couldn't sleep if I tried. Staring blankly off into space doesn't equate to rest.

"Okay. I'll see what I can do."

"Louis?" My voice sounds flat and hoarse and weak. I hate it. Louis nods expectantly. " Can you pick up some of my stuff for me?"