Why Are You My Remedy? [Book 1]

3

The door opens.

There's no color, no light, no promise of anything but horror on the other side. No words. No directions. Just an open door that means the same thing every time.

"What the-" Cellmate looks around confused. "They're letting us out?"

"It's just time to shower." I say, walking past him.

"Shower?"

"We don't have much time," I tell him. "We have to hurry."

"Wait, huh? Slow down, I don't understand-" He reaches for my arm but I pull away. "There's no light, we can't see where we're going! How are we supposed to-"

"Shush." I silence him and focus my eyes on the floor. "Take the bottom of my shirt and whatever you do, do not speak." I warn him.

"What happens if we-"

"Shh."

"But what if I have to-"

"Oh my goodness! Do you listen? Don't. Speak." I whisper shout.

An alarm goes off, letting us know we are allowed to go out. Cellmate grabs my shirt.

"Don't. Say. Anything." I remind him.

"But-"

"Nothing." I hiss.

The outside world thinks this place helps us. Pft, that's a lie. It's a prison. They barely feed us and we never see other patients. There's zero light except for the small peaks that are coming through cracks in the wall.

Night time is full of screams and heavy sobs, wails and tortured cries, the sound of flesh and bone breaking by either force or choice. I'll never know.

I spent the first few months here in my own stench. No one ever told me where the bathrooms and showers were. No one told me how the system works. No one ever speaks to you unless they're delivering bad news. No one ever touches you.

Not until yesterday.

It can't be a coincidence either.

My eyes adjust to the complete darkness. I feel around for any familiar things that might let me know where we're going.

Cellmate hasn't said anything. I'm almost proud of him. He's over a foot taller than me, slender man much? Very muscular, he looks close to my age.

"Wha-" Never mind. He was doing good.

I pull his shirt to keep him from finishing his sentence. I feel oddly protective of him, this guy could break me with his pinky if he wanted.

He doesn't realize that if he speaks they could kill him, for no reason at all.

I've decided to not be afraid of him. He seems more immature than threatening. He seems so familiar... I knew a boy with the same blue eyes as him and for some reason the memories I had with that one boy won't let me hate him.

Maybe it'd be nice having a friend.

6 more feet until we reach the bathroom.

"This way." I whisper. I open the door and push him towards the row of showers while I try and feel if there is any soap on the floor. I find two pieces, one twice as big as the other.

"Open your hand," I feel for his palm but I don't feel anything.

He doesn't say anything for a second and I start to get worried.

"Are you still there?" Still no sound. My eyes start to water. I-

"What's your name?" He asks. I can feel him standing much closer to me than he was before. My heart is racing, I don't know why but I can't control it.

"Why won't you tell me your name?" He asks once again.

I avoid the question, "Is your hand open?" He walks closer and I'm almost afraid to breathe.

"I- I'm going to turn the shower on for you..." I manage to say.

"What do I do with my clothes?" His body is still too close to mine.

I blink in a confused manner, "You have to take them off..?"

He laughs. "Well, duh. I know. But what do I do with them while I shower?"

"Try not to get them wet."

He sighs, "How much time do we have?"

"Two minutes."

"Why didn't you say that!?"

"Uh, because I said not to speak. If I would have said that, you would have replied." I turn on his shower and quickly turn on mine. We handle our business and return back to the cell.

I go and sit back down in my corner. He still has my bed, my blanket, and my pillow. I forgive him but maybe it's too soon to be friends. Maybe he's only here to make me miserable. But if I don't stay warm I'll get sick. My hair is still wet and the blanket I usually wrap it in is still on his side of the room. Maybe I am still afraid of him..

I inhale and look at the ceiling while cellmate drapes two blankets over my shoulder.

One is mine.

One is his.

"I'm sorry I was so rude. I promise I'm not really like that." He whispers. He doesn't touch me and I'm disappointed* happy. I wish he would. He shouldn't. No one should ever touch me.

"I'm Luka." He says slowly. He walks back over to the beds and sits down. He pushes my bed back to my side of the cell.

Luka.

Such a nice name. Cellmate has such a nice name.

It's a name I've always liked but I can't remember why.

I waste no time climbing into my bed. I'm so exhausted.

I haven't slept in more than 24 hours.

Luka is such a nice name is the last thought I think of before shutting my eyes.