Finally the time has come to straighten his cell. She grips the cart, strolling down the halls as she makes her way down to his room. The door was cracked, she frowned. Why was his door always opened? When she'd looked in, she quietly gasps.
Tears threaten to break its barrier as she looked at the scenery before her. The boy was strapped to a all white seat as if he was about to have an lethal injection for a death row penalty. His inward elbows was punctured by needles, so were his neck. His hands were captivated by metal gloves.
His head was down, weakly, as the scientists sucked blood from the needles into tubes. As she watched closely, she seen a tear of gold drop from his eyes onto his lap. Gold? Though, it was dim in the room, the tear shined as it dropped.
She placed her hand om her heart as she continued to watch the poor fellow. What Bricole didn't know is that he held up a fight before giving up. The scientists had injected him with a serum, which made his muscles tense and useless.
She accidentally let out a sob she held in her throat. He opens his eyes and looks ahead as if he was the only one who heard her. Tears of gold continues to stroll down his face as the blue in his eyes took over the red and grey highlight, apparent to Bricole's glasses she worn.
"Oh my goodness," she held her hand over her mouth.