I'm sorry for reblogging the same post twice, but the age gap panic bs some people genuinely believe in is just so frustrating to me.
People are not inherently evil.
Adults are people.
Adults are not inherently evil.
Adults interacting with children is not inherently with malicious intent.
The old man happy to play chess with a teenager in the park is not a predator. The predator (in relation to the statement "danger often comes from the person the child already knows") is their own uncle Barry who is still allowed inside the house and for whom your parents make you change clothes to wear something less revealing (e.g. a t-shirt instead of a sleeveless top). The predator is your school teacher who tells girls to smile more because it makes them prettier, or the PE teacher who installed hidden cameras in the changing rooms.
And even then. EVEN THEN. The concept of innocent until proven guilty still applies??? Maybe the teacher is just a jackass. And maybe the PE teacher just a dumbass who was trying to prevent theft and forgot about privacy. And maybe uncle Barry doesn't give two shits about what shirt you wear, maybe that's just your parents projecting.
And kids don't always tell their parents or their teachers or their mentors everything. For fear of judgement or punishment or embarrassment. There's some things that are just uncomfortable to share with them. But maybe the librarian is more approachable, or that neighbour. Someone you can discuss an uncomfortable situation with and someone who is experienced enough to recognise that it might even be an unsafe situation and who can advise you on how to handle that with the right resources.
Sometimes you just need someone with 1. more experience and 2. a more objective view.
(e.g. your mom might blindly panic if you tell her about something unsafe. An older friend/acquaintance might still be able to keep a level head and offer advice accordingly.)
And lastly, should a child or adult be best friends with one another? (as opposed to just friends, something I saw a couple of people trip over in the comments of the poll that triggered my rant).
Why do you care? You don't know the circumstances. You don't get to inject yourself into that situation and decide whether it's weird or not or should be allowed or not. Because spoiler alert: There's a whole world out there that's not on the internet. There's different cultures, different values, different circumstances, and about a million other factors that could influence someone's social circle. Just because it's atypical to you and your experience doesn't mean that it's inherently weird.
Noooo they're just a little guy don't hurt them nooo
What whump* scenario would you put your blorbo in?
Illness
Physical injury
Kidnapping
Emotional Distress
All of the above
Multiple of the above
Other (share in the tags)
Nooooo they're just a little guy don't hurt them noooo
Remaining time: 2 days 2 hours
*Whump: The term whump (or whumping) generally refers to a form of Hurt/Comfort that is heavy on the hurt and is often found in gen stories. The exact definition varies and has evolved over time. Essentially, whump involves taking a canon character, and placing them in physically painful or psychologically-damaging scenarios.
Hello! I’m Shadow, I am in my late 20’s, and I primarily write whumpy stories both of my OCs and occasionally some fanfiction. A lot of my stories are short, fun little one offs, but I am trying to get into writing some series (more on them below). My ask box and DMs are open so feel free to drop in and ask about any of my OCs, WIPs, or just anything really.
Preferences:
Kidnapping
Medieval, fantasy, or sci-fi settings
Hostage Situations
Captive/Rescue
Superheroes
M/M romance
Dislikes:
Sexual content past kissing
Permeant Injuries
Excessive Gore
Violence towards animals
Fandoms (non-exhaustive):
Fire Emblem
Unicorn Overlord
Triangle Strategy
My Hero Academia
Genshin Impact
Honkai Star Rail
Series:
The Frostbringer Chronicles follows Evan Kennedy, the hero Frostbringer, as he establishes himself as Coral City's sole super while also navigating life as a high school senior. Will also feature some familiar faces from another heroes based series on Tumblr.
Contains: superheroes, gay romance, lighthearted fun
Requests:
I do not take commissions because my writing bug come and goes these days and the added pressure of money added into the mix won't help. However, I will take requests. I can't guarantee they will be written, but if the request sparks an idea, that would be great for both of us. I will write stories featuring OCs and from fandoms listed above or from other fandoms depending on how familiar I am with them. All requests can be sent to my ask box or DMs.
does a creator's involvement with their community impact your love for their work?
yes; i love a series more when the creator is involved w/ their fandom
no; i love a series regardless of creator involvement
other/nuance [write your response]
Voting ended onMay 29
i've been thinking about Goose and her recent response to people getting mad at her for how she reacted to the leaked episode 9 (which, btw, fans taking out their anger on someone w/ no control of the situation is a massive dick move). and i've been seeing a lot of similar situations where creators want to be active in their community, but end up having to distance themselves due to controversy and backlash, usually over the smallest fucking things.
i also see a lot of people say that they tend not to get involved with fandoms of series they enjoy, for this very reason. so how do yall feel about it? my own personal response is no, i will love a series even if the creator isn't involved in the community. but i do know that some creators have gotten so much attention for their series thanks to their engagement with fans, and it's a sentiment i've seen in comments too.
I'm on team avoid the greater fandom altogether...
Reading/media comprehension is down the drain. So is tolerance and the ability to agree to disagree. People will choose a certain interpretation of things and blow up at anyone who has a different interpretation - including the very creator of said media!!! You get called evil for liking villain characters, creators get accused of queerbaiting when a fandom-favourite ship doesn't become canon (even though they never confirmed or even remotely advertised that it would--)
People get extremely attached to creators and voice actors (downright parasocial levels of attached) and will attack anyone involved if even one of them turns out to not be an UwU innocent baby bean, because god forbid creators/actors/etc are?? Human????
The mob mentality and the thought policing in fandom is exhausting. I have a much more positive experience yapping about my new favourite show/book/movie at friends who have zero context.
agreed with all of this, but also bringing up the VAs is such a good point too. it makes me hesitant to eventually cast for VAs when i know that just them having any ties to the show or the show's creator could get them backlash. which makes me wonder if everyone involved in a series should just agree not to engage with fandom.
so many times Glitch has said "hey, if yall can't chill out, the VAs can't do fun things"...but that's kind of like, why give people the opportunity to be shitty if you can avoid it?
Thanks to social media, celebrities can engage with fans without needing a whole security detail. Instead a block button should suffice. But it's also safe for people to cross way too many boundaries without the consequences of getting punted by said security detail.
People lose all sense of fucking decency and ruin the fun for everyone else.
The creators and actors/VAs included!!! You're ruining it for them too! The fucking audacity—
Reminds me of what my mom used to say when I was rude to her as a kid. She'd say, roughly translated, "I'm not one of your classmates, you can't talk like that to me!"
Like, I'm not saying successful/popular creators/actors/etc are somehow better than the average person, but they are on a different level. They're not your classmate or friend or sibling. They're not aware of your inside jokes or may not instinctively know that you use a common insult affectionately. So don't talk to them like that!!
And if you do sincerely insult/threaten/otherwise act unpleasantly towards them. ???? Get help?? Oh my god get help, touch grass, log off log off log off.
(Don’t mind me, just hopping into the conversation.)
I personally am of the mind that a piece of media should solely be judged based on what is written down or recorded, regardless of interpretations that the creator or fandom offers (death of the author if you will). As Whumpsmith said above, media retention is at an all time low among audiences so fandom discourse usually is over stuff that could easily be solved by just,,,engaging with the media with some working brain cells. Unfortunately, most people’s first introductions to popular media is going to be through fandoms because a person is just going to go “wonder what this is about. Let me look it up on Twitter or Tumblr,” which is why I stress the importance of separating a fandom’s identity from the media they’re talking about.
i loooove the saw franchise soooo much so when my friend Inspector-Bucket commissioned me for a horror-themed pic of his OC maurice i was ecstatic <3333 i like the cold teal color grading in the early saw movies so i made this one super green. i have some other alt versions so ill post those later!
That’s the first thing I wake up to — a constant dull throbbing that ripples across my temples.
Nngh…wha…?
Groaning weakly, I try to force my eyes open. My body feels…unusually heavy. Even the smallest of movements feels like a herculean task. A flicker of my fingers. An attempt to gather my bearings. All I can see is a shimmering white haze around me. Bright glaring lights stream down from above, prompting me to shut my eyes again with a small whimper.
What…nngh…what happened?
As the light burns into my retinas, I notice a few other sensations — something soft and light brushing over my body, a cushioned surface pressing into my back, a familiar distant sound—
Beep Beep Beep Beep
…monitor?
Grimacing, I peel my eyes open to get a better look. My vision is skewed, misted over like frosted glass. I can pick out concepts, but not any specific details. Only the most simple things around me: stark grey-white walls, bright lights, blurred monitors. That’s about it. Anything else is just too much to process right now.
“Ash — ley?”
A voice calls out to me from somewhere. It’s almost like I’m submerged underwater, trapped, unable to come up for air. Just the vaguely distorted sound of my name helps to pull me back from the depths.
“Nnn…”
It takes some time for my head to fully break the surface. As it does though, things finally start to clear. I recognise the voice. It sounds out again, closer now, as if he’s sitting right next to me. A quick turn of my head to my left confirms that fact. I force back a wave of nausea as the world jolts suddenly.
“I — glad to see — finally waking up.”
I can actually see him now. As usual, he’s right by my side, perched on a chair next to my bed. Both of his hands remain clasped in his lap as he studies me behind his glasses.
“Nngh…Doctor…Voss?”
As I stare groggily back at him, the room gradually shifts into clearer focus, confirming my first impressions. Colourless walls surround us on all sides. The former colour from my room has inexplicably disappeared. All of my precious photographs and pictures are gone. Not a single one remains. Blinking in confusion, I scan the rest of the room. There are a few pieces of simple-looking furniture that I had initially missed, including two chairs, a bedside table and a more modest sized closet — but that’s it. I’m…pretty sure there’s something else that’s missing too. I have no idea what, but even in my disorientated state I know one fact for certain.
This isn’t my room.
Suddenly unsettled, I attempt to pull myself up — but something catches against my wrists, preventing me from moving.
Huh? Why can’t I…move?
“Take it slowly.”
My head spins violently as everything lurches again. “It will take a little longer for the drugs to fully clear from your system. You might find yourself feeling a little nauseous from dehydration, but the side effects will pass soon enough.”
Bit by bit, his words trigger the flashes. Vague disconnected flashes of the last things I remember.
Dr Slade. Dex. Green fire. Elevator. Exit. Dr Voss. Needle—
Wait…needle?
“You were doing so well, my boy,” he continues quietly, “I was really hoping that we could avoid all of this — but as it stands, you have left me no other choice.”
His tone — although regretful — also carries an undeniable edge. Swallowing the nausea, I try to move my arms again. I’m only met with that same stubborn resistance at my wrists.
“Nngh, what do you...h-huh?”
Even with my head still reeling, I can clearly see them — the restraints. Soft but sturdy restraints buckled around both of my wrists, tethering my hands down.
Why am I…tied to my bed?!
Panic flares in my chest. My breathing instantly picks up.
“No…no no no, this—this isn’t—nngh!”
I desperately tug against the restraints, but they barely budge. My uncoordinated efforts are completely useless. With a distressed whine, I begin kicking and squirming against the mattress — only to be met with the same resistance at my legs. I jerk my head up, staring down the bed in horror. Similar fabric restraints ensnare each of my ankles, just above my grippy socks. I gasp sharply.
No, this—this isn’t happening, it’s not—it’s not real—!
“Calm down. Those are just a temporary measure for your own safety.”
My doctor’s calm declaration cuts right through my impending panic attack. Twisting towards him, I give my head a pleading shake.
“N-no…please,” I croak, my voice a strained mess, “Dr Voss, please—!”
“I know that those seem frightening, but they won’t hurt you. They’re just to keep you safe until you’re through this current phase.”
He acknowledges my frightened cry with a heavy sigh. “Believe me, it’s for your own good right now.”
For my own—no!
Terrified, I try to yank at my wrists again. Every struggle just leaves me more drained than before. At the same time, I feel something cold against my neck, like a band around my throat. I immediately recognise it, stiffening.
The collar…oh God—
“I know, my boy, I know,” he speaks softly, “This is hard for me as well.”
“Wh-what are you—”
“I really didn’t want to have to escalate like this, but it’s in your best interests for the time being — especially after what happened earlier.”
Earlier? What is he—
“You went through quite an ordeal, so allow me to fill in the gaps,” he starts, “Slade used you as a hostage to try and bargain his own escape from the institute. At some point, Dr Simmons joined him to assist his escape and at some point, they convinced you to escape with them as well.”
He tilts his head. “Your resistance against us was evidence of that. Naturally, you were not thinking clearly. You were in a state of distress and we were unable to de-escalate. We had no choice but to resort to…stricter measures.”
His recap sounds flawless. It makes so much plausible sense — but at the same time, it raises other questions.
“Wh-where are they?” I ask, tension building in my shoulders, “Dr Slade and—”
“Slade has been transferred to our maximum security facility,” he answers, “Unfortunately, I underestimated the level of care he would require, but at least he is in the right place for it now. As for Dr Simmons, he’s been dismissed from the programme for multiple counts of gross misconduct. You won’t be seeing him again any time soon.”
I blink back at my doctor, attempting to take it all in.
“They’re…gone?”
“Yes — and they won’t harm you again, Ashley. You’re safe now.”
My eyes remain fixed on his hazy form as he gestures around the room. “However, I have also had to make a few adjustments to your own accommodation. For now, you’ve been relocated to Pine Ward. It is one of our…higher acuity wards, with stricter security measures for high risk patients.”
High risk?
“No,” I protest immediately, shaking my head even harder, “N-no I—I know I messed up, but—”
“It’s just for the time being Ashley, until I can trust you to—”
“No I—I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
Tears start spilling down my cheeks. Another helpless plea leaves my throat as he silently watches me. “I-I won’t try anything again. Just please — please don’t keep me like this!”
“...I’m afraid I have to, Ashley.”
His response makes me choke. “I can’t allow you to put yourself at risk or make any other reckless decisions. This is the only way to be absolutely certain that you won’t pose a risk to yourself, or others.”
His gaze never leaves my tearful face. I shudder, clenching my hands by my sides. “And of course you won’t be kept in those restraints all of the time. Once your risk level improves I will gladly remove them. Until then, this is necessary, for your own protection.”
“No—”
“And we’ll also need to make some significant amendments to your earlier treatment plan to reflect your latest deterioration. I know it feels like a step backwards, but we will get there. This is just another setback for—”
“No I—I don’t want this!” I cry, tossing my head about, “You always said I was in charge of—”
“Not anymore, Ashley.”
I gulp, shrinking against the mattress. “I’m afraid you no longer have the capacity to be able to say what you ‘want’ here. By law, that means you cannot refuse or consent to medical treatment yourself. As your named doctor, I must therefore act in what I deem to be your best interests — which includes these stricter measures for the foreseeable future, to prevent you from harming yourself or others whilst we re-establish your treatment plan.”
He folds his arms, peering back at me with an unreadable expression. “As I said, it’s for your own good, my boy. I’m sorry.”
I don’t respond. I simply stare back at him from my current position, looking — really looking — into Dr Voss’s eyes. I search them for any signs of genuine regret. Whilst it perfectly carries through in his voice, I don’t see a single flicker of it in his gaze. His words don’t meet his eyes at all.
It’s an act.
That sudden realisation tells me everything I need to know.
“...he was right.”
The words tumble from my lips. My hands start shaking again, but not just from fear. “Oh my—he was right!”
“Who was right? What are you talking about—”
“Dr Slade!” I shout, attempting to sit myself up even with the restraints still pinning me down, “He was right! He was right about everything! This place, the treatment, my powers, you—!”
“Ashley, I know you’re upset with me, but—”
“No, you—oh my God you—you lied to me! All this time I—I believed you, I—I trusted you!”
The buckles rattle loudly. Disbelief crosses my face. Conflicting emotions flare to life in my gut. Confusion. Guilt. Fear. Anger. Betrayal. “You made me believe I was sick—that it was all in my head, that—that my powers were—!”
“Ashley, superpowers do not exist—”
“They do!” I cut him off, glaring tearfully at him, “You saw that green fire back there! I know you did!”
“There was nothing there, my boy,” he emphasises, sitting up straighter in his chair, “Whatever you think you saw, it was all in your head—”
“No! It wasn’t! You—all of you are in on this!”
Dr Voss is quiet. He tilts his head to the side, studying me with a helpless expression.
“Do you even hear yourself, Ashley?” he sighs, “This is exactly the reason why these current measures are necessary. You’re not thinking clearly, my boy. I am trying to help you.”
“No, you’re not—!”
“But I am — and you’re just too selfish to see it!”
I flinch at his sharp tone. Noticing my reaction, the doctor takes a deep breath, composing himself. “Listen. I understand that you’re overwhelmed right now...but these silly stories have to stop. They’re not real, Ashley—”
“No—no, they were right! You’re lying to me. You are using me—!”
“The only one ‘using’ you was Slade!”
His words instantly shut me up. Peering down at me, he lowers his voice. “Do you really think he cared about you? The only reason he took you with him was to use you as a hostage to ensure his own escape.”
I counter him with a defiant growl.
“No, he—he cares about me! He told me to run and leave them! He promised he wouldn’t leave me behind to—
“But can you be so sure he would have kept that promise?”
My confidence suddenly falters.
“Wh-what?”
Dr Voss leans forward ever so slightly, speaking in a hushed tone.
“Can you look me in the eye and still say — with absolute confidence — that Slade was not planning to leave you behind after he’d escaped?”
The answer should be obvious — but his question is just enough to reignite any niggling doubts in my mind. The current state of my head from the leftover ‘medicine’ doesn’t really help. Gazing back at him, I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t get the right words out.
Would he have left me behind, even after we’d escaped?
“It really is a shame, my boy,” the doctor continues, taking my silence as a no, “You trusted him, even though he saw you as nothing but a tool to be tossed aside once you had served your purpose.”
“No—”
“You even trusted him over me — and that hurts, Ashley. After everything I’ve done for you, for our work and all of the work I’ve put into trying to get you better — but no. You trusted him instead — and you fell right for his manipulation.”
His words have the intended effect. Slowly, my former faith cracks. It’s a fragile and delicate thing, taken down by just a few simple words. Disbelieving tears fill my eyes.
Was he really just using me? All this time? Going along with his delusions?
I bite my lower lip so hard that it starts to bleed. A metallic taste soaks into my tongue as our eyes lock.
“...you’re lying.”
My voice rises in desperation, hurt shining in my eyes. “You’re a liar! LIAR!”
“Deny it as much as you want, but I am simply telling you the truth—”
“Then tell me the real truth, Dr Voss!” I snap, clenching my teeth, “What is this place? What are you doing to me?! What do you want with me?!”
He doesn’t even answer me now. My doctor just rises up from his seat, pointedly turning his back towards my bed. That simple gesture sends anger coursing through my veins. “Answer me!”
“Ashley, I need you to calm down—”
“I said ANSWER ME!”
I throw myself forwards with a yell, thrashing frantically against the restraints keeping me down. I almost don’t hear his response over the persistent rattling.
“...I really didn’t want to do this again so soon.”
With a reluctant sigh, he presses something on my bedside table. His lack of a proper response only makes me scream at him even louder in frustration. Two unfamiliar-faced nurses suddenly join us. My doctor wastes no time with his instructions. “Give him another milligram IM, before he hurts himself—Ashley stop that!”
He grabs my shoulder, forcing me down. The second nurse joins him. Strapped down, there is nothing I can do to fight them. It doesn’t stop me from trying though. The sight of the needle alone is enough to send my terror spiking through the roof.
“NO! STOP! STOP!”
My shrieks fall on deaf ears. I buck and squirm as best as I can, twisting my head repeatedly to make the process as difficult as possible.
“Quit it, kid!”
“LET ME GO!”
My sweat-soaked bangs dangle into my face. My shrieks morph into panicked panting as they locate the vein on my arm.
“Sharp scratch—”
“NO!”
A familiar pricking sensation follows. The icy substance works its way through my system even quicker than the last time. Almost immediately the haziness returns. Faces lose their features. I sob pitifully, feeling the effects rapidly taking over my body against my will. My limbs become like lead. It won’t be long before I’m gone again.
“Shhh.”
I feel his fingers in my hair. All I can do is whimper, unable to pull away as he gently strokes through it. “Don’t fight it, Ashley. You’ll only make things harder for yourself.”
“N-no…nngh…I…n-no…”
“Shhh. Just go to sleep. Let everything fade away.”
His blurred arm reaches for something, gingerly tucking it under the covers with me. It takes a good few seconds to recognise the sensation of that fuzzy brown fur tickling my teary face. “You’ll get — other belongings — soon. For now — make sure — to rest.”
He begins to blend with the surroundings. His parting words are the final thing I hear before the blackness comes for me again.
“You’ll
need
It…”
Fighting is useless.
After God knows how many days, I think I’ve finally learned that now — as well as the consequences for even trying. Refuse the meds — have them shoved down my throat. Get too rowdy — straight back in the restraints. Try to resist ‘treatment’ — out come the needles. The slightest bit of resistance and I’m back to square one. He had warned me about it many times. Despite that, I’d still tried. I had even resorted to fighting tooth and nail — literally — to make my escape. Of course they had just caught me straight away.
I think it was after that little event when he decided to adjust my ‘meds’ again.
I’ve undergone so many ‘revisions’ now that I’ve lost friggin’ count. They say it’s for my own good, or to get the optimum outcome from my treatment, but I know the real reason for it — to keep me a zombie. To keep me nice and compliant with my ‘treatment plan’. To swiftly cut any single thought of escape out of my head. Some days are bad, but the worst days? They’re like a living hell. Physically I’m alive. My heart still pumps blood around my body. Both of my lungs still inflate with oxygen. All of my biological systems operate exactly as they’re supposed to — but mentally, I’m just…existing, thanks to the drugs. It doesn’t change the same four colourless walls that greet me day in and day out, or the undeniable pain I feel after every bit of ‘treatment’ they subject me to. Sometimes the walls shimmer and pulse like living entities. Shadows will flicker in and out of my vision. I’ve even seen things I have no name for in my drug-induced ‘rest’.
It’s all just a part of my new existence.
I couldn’t even guess how long I’ve been stuck in here since my ‘relocation’. There’s no calendar, no clock and worst of all — no windows. I’m completely isolated from the outside, just short of solitary confinement. No warm feeling of sunlight on my face. No faint sound of birdsong. Not even any stars at night now — nothing. The only clues I have to the time of day are through the arrival of my ‘meals’, or the automatic shutting off of every light in my room at the scheduled hour for mandatory lights out. I don’t know what day it is. I don’t know what month it is. I don’t know anything anymore.
And every single one of them is damn determined to keep it that way.
Beep beep beep
I hear that sound constantly now. No matter what state I’m in, it’s always there. Beeping away, keeping track of my vitals, lulling me in and out of consciousness. Sometimes I hear other sounds too, like the voices of those around me, during the times they come to check on me to tend to my basic needs, or take me for another ‘treatment’. I barely have the energy to respond to them. Every bit of strength has been sucked from me. I feel like one of the zombies, staring at my little TV, taking in the overly bright colours and squiggly lines jumping manically across the screen. Even worse, I have to rely on the ‘nurses’ for everything. Even if I don’t feel like it, they still force me to eat, drink, shower and even drag me along on my daily supervised walk around the ward, whenever I’m not too drugged up of course. It’s just a reminder of who is in charge here.
And it isn’t me.
Anyway — several days or weeks later — I’ve finally started giving in. I don’t even try to fight them anymore. I just cooperate, play along and do whatever I have to do to get through one day to the next. It’s still a pitiful existence, but at least I’m rewarded with fewer druggings, a little more freedom and most importantly, better clarity. I cooperate with them all as best as I can — but not because I’ve given up.
…not yet at least.
“It doesn’t take this long to have a damn shower, kid!”
My new ‘nurse’ calls out impatiently behind the bathroom door. I don’t even try to suppress a tired sigh.
“Nearly done, sir.”
Jerkface.
I lean against the cubicle wall, letting the soothing warm water run over my sore skin. The glass is as foggy as my mind. Soapy suds from my half-hearted washing swirl down the drain, soon disappearing from sight. As weird as it sounds, the shower has become my new safe space. I’m not tied down, I’m on my own and I have twenty whole minutes to do whatever I want in there. Yell. Cry. Slam my hands against the glass. Whatever I want — although I’m actually amazed that my vocal cords still function after the first time I screamed myself raw in here. As the gentle streams continue to wash over me, I catch a glimpse of a face in the glass. I still can’t believe it’s mine.
…I look like crap.
A pair of heavy green eyes stare back at me, their former brightness now a dim flicker — although not completely extinguished yet. The pallor only emphasises the persistent dark rings underneath both of my eyes. Damp hazel hairs stick to my neck. Small plastic cannulae remain snugly taped on the inside of my arms. I could easily yank them out — but as I know from the last time I did that, it would be unnecessarily messy, not to mention completely useless. Of course the collar remains securely locked in place, completely waterproof. It hasn’t budged an inch since the day it was forced back around my throat. Faint cuts and grazes pop-mark my skinny form. The worst ones around my wrists are finally starting to fade. A few newer ones peer back at me from my arms and chest, stinging as the soap trickles over them. My hair is completely soaked from the water, my bangs practically sticking to my face as I stare at the boy in the glass.
Geez. I’m super overdue for a trim—
“Last warning, kid! If you’re not outta there in one minute…”
…I can’t stay in here all day.
“I’m just getting out, sir!”
Sighing, I reach for the knob and turn it clockwise to shut off the water. Staggering a little from the growing weakness in my legs, I carefully climb out of the shower, taking extra care not to slip. After towelling my sensitive skin dry and wringing every last drop of water from my hair, I reach for my clothes — the same standard uniform that has basically become a part of my identity. I’ve only just finished pulling it all on when the door harshly opens. Jerkface just glares at me.
“You finally done?” he demands impatiently.
“Yes, sir,” I answer monotonously, “All done, sir.”
“About time — your breakfast’s already here.”
Oh joy.
Shoulders stiffening, I reluctantly step out of my temporary sanctuary and follow him back to my bed. My other ‘nurse’ — Tall Guy — is already there, placing a grey plastic tray on my bedside table.
“You know the drill, kid. Every last bite.”
Resisting a groan, I drop down onto my bed and accept the tray. I’m hardly surprised by the meagre contents of the bowl.
Yep. Just the same old nutrient mush — again.
Ever since my move to Pine Ward, my personal menu has completely changed. Canteen privileges are revoked indefinitely and every ‘meal’ is almost exactly the same — a thick blended synthetic ‘stew’, apparently crammed with high levels of essential vitamins, minerals, carbs and protein. Literally everything I need to get through the whole day in one simple meal, three times a day. No preservatives. No added sugar. Just everything I need for ‘optimum functioning’, as he put it.
Well…bon appetit, I guess.
Reluctantly picking up the spoon, I eat in careful calculated bites. It’s not the easiest thing to force down and it barely eases the hunger pangs in my stomach, but I have to make the most of it. That's all I’m getting until my next meal. Sometimes they’ll allow me a snack as a reward for good behaviour, but otherwise, that’s it.
And honestly, I’m getting more than a little tired of it.
Hunger-striking sounds like a good alternative.
Tall Guy doesn’t take his grey eyes off of me for one second. It’s his job of course, to make sure my intake is sufficient to comply with my ‘treatment plan’, but that doesn’t make it any less unnerving, having him stare at me as I eat. Neither of us can be bothered to make any conversation either, so breakfast passes in its usual awkward manner. Each of my movements are robotic and automatic, proceeding in a step-by-step fashion.
Pick up the food. Put it in your mouth. Chew. Swallow. Repeat.
I wish I could just leave it now, but Tall Guy’s warning was clear — every last bite. Clenching my fingers tighter around the spoon,, I finish cleaning the bowl, before tossing the utensil noisily against it in a small act of defiance.
“There, sir,” I grumble, swigging off the accompanying cup of water, “Happy, sir?”
“Ecstatic.”
He rolls his eyes as he snatches up my tray. “Now just sit tight and wait for your appointment. He’ll be here soon.”
Yes he will. Just like always.
I turn my back to him, staring at the wall as the door shuts behind him and Jerkface. The minutes drag ominously by, just as they always do. I feel my stomach churning in anticipation. Nausea rises up into my throat. Both of my eyes keep flickering warily towards the door, waiting. It’s all I can do — until I hear the tell-tale clacking down the corridor.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
And there he is.
Every clack of his patent heeled shoes sends a shudder through my body. I swallow hard, forcing myself to take a deep breath.
Mind. Over. Matter.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Everything. Will be. Fi—
Beep
The door opens. He pauses for a moment, studying me. Then come the slower footsteps, more deliberate. It’s become a new habit of his, as if to drag it out.
“Good morning, Ashley.”
I don’t even glance at him. I keep my gaze fixed on the ground, even as he approaches me. “How are you feeling this morning?”
Like a friggin’ zombie.
“...not bad, Dr Voss.”
Okay, Ash. You’ve got this. Just act how he wants you to act.
Blinking away the brainfog, I force my shoulders to relax and slowly raise my head to meet his gaze.
“So, is it time for treatment?”
“Almost — but first we’ll need your daily bloods.”
Of course you ‘need’ them.
“Sure, Dr Voss.”
Without a single protest I willingly stick out my arm. “Take whatever you need.”
My doctor blinks at me. I can’t tell if he’s surprised, or impressed.
“Thank you, Ashley. Matthias, if you will?”
Jerkface steps in again. Wordlessly, I turn my head, allowing him to do the usual process of taking my blood. I’m honestly amazed I have any left at this point. “I must say, it’s refreshing to see you so eager for once.”
“...I just know you’re doing your best for me,” I answer softly, wincing at the tightness of the tourniquet, “The least I can do is help make it easier.”
“...that’s very thoughtful of you, my boy.”
I nod back at him, hissing a little at the sharp prick of the needle. Grimacing, I keep my head turned away, trying to ignore the usual light headed feeling as they take God knows how many bottles of my blood.
Why do they even need so much?
“Well done. That wasn’t too hard was it?”
“No, Dr Voss.”
Biting my lip, I wait for Jerkface to dispose of the needle before willing myself to speak up. “Dr Voss, can I say something?”
“Of course you can,” he replies, standing beside my bed, “Is there something on your mind?”
Here goes.
“I just…I just wanted to say I’m sorry for not believing you.”
Surprise flickers across his eyes as my own lock with his. “You’ve always been right. About everything. I know I didn’t believe you at first, but now — after all the treatments and tests — I finally feel like I’m seeing the truth.”
I give my head a small shake for emphasis as Jerkface pastes a bandaid on my arm. “Superpowers don’t exist. They’re just a silly made-up story — and of course you’re trying to make me better. That’s what doctors do, so all of this is for my own good.”
Dr Voss remains quiet. He folds his arms, taking in my speech with an expression of interest as I continue. “I know I lashed out. I know I said things that I shouldn’t have, but I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time. It was just…all in my head — and now I know that, I feel so much better. I…actually think I’m finally getting there, Dr Voss.”
I allow a smidgen of hope to enter my voice as I peer back at him.
“You know what, Ashley?” he says, sending me a small smile, “It’s so good to finally hear this from you.”
“Thanks, Dr Voss—”
“A little too good, in fact.”
The hope rapidly backfires. His lips curl downwards into a disapproving frown. “You almost had me there, my boy — but I’m afraid you won’t be fooling me that easily.”
“W-wait,” I stammer, “what do you mean by—”
“You don’t actually believe any of what you’re saying, do you?” he interrupts sharply, “I think you’re just echoing exactly what I want to hear, so I decide to downgrade your risk level and relocate you to a lower security ward.”
My stomach lurches.
He saw right through me...oh crap—
“Well?” he adds, clearly unamused by my rehearsed speech, “Am I right?”
Naturally, I have no comeback. No defence and definitely no excuses. My silence says everything. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
…he’s got me.
Defeated, I tear my gaze away from him. I grit my teeth tightly, aiming my glare at the floor.
“How much longer are you going to keep me here?” I force out.
“As long as it takes for us to successfully work through your treatment plan,” he answers unwaveringly, “Until then, I’m afraid I cannot risk downgrading you to—”
“What more do you want from me, Dr Voss?!”
I jerk my head up with a fierce snap. My eyes burn painfully. “I’m not fighting anymore, I’m taking my meds, I’m making progress, I’m doing everything you tell me to—!”
“I know — and I agree that you are making progress, but it would be too premature at this stage to downgrade your risk level. We still have a lot of work to do in order to—”
“Then what do I have to do?!” I yell, my shoulders shaking, “Just tell me! I—I’m going crazy in here! I just wanna go outside again! Just for a bit! Please!”
“Then keep on going exactly as you are — preferably without any more lies from now on — and I might consider it.”
I shudder a little at the cold edge entering that second part. “Now then, let’s get you prepared for your treatment, shall we? Matthias, his medication?”
“Right here, doc.”
From one of the drug trolleys, he pulls out a horribly familiar syringe. Just the sight of it turns my cheeks near white. With my defiance fading, I back up against the bed, pressing as far back as I can.
“Wait—no. N-no, please! Not that one again, please!”
My pleading cries fall on deaf ears. Attracted by my cries, Tall Guy comes to join us, ‘helpfully’ pinning me in place. Jerkface hurries over with the syringe, loaded and ready for me. “No! No no no!”
“Settle down, Ashley. You know how this works.”
“No—no please! I—no!”
My glistening eyes meet my doctor’s, searching for the smallest spark of mercy as I sob in terror. “I-I’ll be good, I promise—I promise! No more lies, just—just please don’t drug me again! Please!”
My doctor just glances away, even when I cry out for him. “Dr Voss!”
“Just try to relax, my boy. You’ll feel a lot better soon.”
My weak squirming isn’t enough to throw them off. With a whine, I feel my limbs flopping lifelessly against the bed. The familiar glaze returns, soon joined by the black that engulfs everything around me. I’m vaguely aware of the bed beginning to move before it all goes dark. They can do anything to me now. Absolutely anything.
…and I won’t even see it coming.
Days drag by inside the walls of Ivy Institute. Since I’d tried to sweet-talk my way out of Pine Ward, they’ve started going tougher on me again — although they’re trying a different technique to get the drugs into me now. Instead, they’ve started spiking my ‘meals’, as if I wouldn’t notice. The ‘meds’ always take quick effect, rendering me back to my former zombie-like state of compliance, just to make me easier for them to handle. Again, they continuously relay their usual programmed messages like a broken record player:
‘It’s for your own good, Ashley.’
‘It will make you better, Ashley’.
‘You have to trust us, Ashley’.
...like heck I will.
Of course, whilst I have a ‘nurse’ watching me every mealtime I can’t exactly do anything — but as soon as they’re gone, it’s straight to the bathroom to purge it all out. It’s gross. It’s disgusting. The acid burns my throat every time I do it, but it’s better than the alternative. At least this way, I can control it. I can control what they do to me and what I will allow myself to take in. Only the water is safe to drink, although they could start spiking that too for all I know. It’s been almost a whole week now since I’ve actually digested any proper food. All I’ve kept down have been multiple cups of water. That’s it. Basically, I’m on hunger-strike — and there’s absolutely nothing they can do about it.
…or so I’d thought.
“Seven days, Ashley.”
I just stare wearily back at the doctor from my bed. Judging by the creased lines filling his face, he is not impressed. “You mean to tell me that have gone seven days without any proper nutrition?”
“I’ve been drinking plenty of water though,” I murmur with a hint of snark, hugging my knees to my chest, “You did tell me to stay hydrated, Dr Voss.”
He squints at me in response.
“Don’t talk back to me, Ashley,” he warns, running a hand through his hair, “Just—just help me to understand. Why are you doing this to yourself? Don’t you know that you’re making yourself sick?”
“I don’t care,” I answer, daring to meet his narrowed eyes, “I’m not hungry, Dr Voss.”
“Ashley, you need to eat—”
“What’s the point?” I interrupt, “To get through another hellish day here? Or so I’ll be easier to handle in your experiments once I’m all drugged up for you?”
“Again with the paranoia,” he sighs, pinching his nose, “The point is because a good balanced diet is a crucial part of your treatment plan and you’ll only get better by taking in what you need to recover.”
He adds on, with extra emphasis. “No one is tampering with any of your meals, my boy.”
I act as if I don’t even hear him. Frowning, Dr Voss pulls out a covered bowl with a plastic spoon and sets it down on my bedside table. Uncovering the lid reveals — very predictably — another bowl of nutrient mush.
Probably also drugged.
“You’re only harming yourself with this pointless hunger-strike. You’ve kept it up all week, but I’m afraid it ends tonight.”
He purposefully pushes the tray towards me, his expectation clear. “Now, stop acting so childish, pick up your spoon and eat.”
I take one look at the unappetising bowl before nudging it away.
“Not. Hungry.”
“Ashley,” the doctor warns, “please do not test my patience.”
He shoves the food towards me again. I stubbornly mirror his movement, gritting my teeth.
“Just leave me alone.”
Dr Voss slowly exhales. It’s obvious that I’m pushing his patience dangerously thin. Silently, he places the bowl straight back in front of me.
“Ashley…eat it—”
“No,” I answer defiantly, even as he towers over me.
“I will not ask you again—”
“You can’t force me to if I don’t want to, Dr Voss.”
“I mean it, Ashley. This is your last chance—”
“Or what?” I challenge tearily, “You’ll shove it down my throat?”
My own patience is gone. I don’t know how long it’s been. Days. Weeks. Heck, it could be months for all I know — but I’m so tired of everything. My ‘meds’. My ‘treatment'. My 'admission' — all of it. Before I know what I’m doing, the tray is thrown viciously aside. The bowl clatters noisily against the ground, spilling its lukewarm contents all over the floor. I don’t even care, staring straight at the doctor with a watery glare of defiance.
“I’d like to see you try.”
Dr Voss doesn’t respond. He remains completely silent, initially stunned by my outburst. Then, his expression changes. My brief burst of courage quickly fades.
I…should not have done that.
“...you just keep on making it worse for yourself, Ashley.”
Without taking his eyes off of me, he presses the button to summon the ‘nurses’. Jerkface and Tall Guy attend within seconds. “Rick. Bring me an NG tube. The smaller sized kit will work best for him.”
Tall Guy wordlessly disappears back out the door. My earlier resistance fizzles out. Despite the pain in my lower back, I shuffle against the wall, already getting a very bad feeling.
“Wh-what’s an…en-gee tube?” I stammer.
“...you’ll see for yourself in a minute.”
His cool gaze does not help my rising nerves, or the tense silence that settles over the room. By the time Tall Guy returns, my insides are a squirming mess.
“Here’s the kit, as requested.”
“Thank you, Rick. I think our patient could do with a little demonstration.”
I watch uncomfortably as he tears open the plastic packaging, pulling out a long thin tube from the pack. A bunch of numbers are written on the side of the yellow tubing. I gulp as he deliberately uncoils it.
Oh God…
“You see this, Ashley? This is an NG tube — also known as a nasogastric tube.”
He holds it up, making sure that I can fully see it. “As the name suggests, it is inserted through the nose and goes all the way down to the stomach to provide a form of enteral feeding. Normally it is used for patients who have an unsafe swallow, or for those who are simply not meeting their nutritional requirements — just like you are not meeting yours.”
I can already feel my throat tightening as he holds it a little higher. “Now, what was it that you said just a minute ago, my boy?” he muses, “‘We can’t force you to if you don’t want to’?”
Paling, I start to shake my head.
“W-wait a sec—”
“You need to eat, Ashley — and if this is the only way to get that nutrition into you, then we’ll just have to give it a go, won’t we?”
“N-no—no, you—you don’t have to…!”
But it’s already too late.
“Hold him down, Matthias.”
“Gladly.”
Knowing exactly where this is going, I immediately start struggling against Jerkface. I get a good kick to his kneecap, but he soon overpowers me, painfully pinning me against the wall.
“Get off! Get off me—nngha!”
“Hold still!” He growls, grunting as he struggles to keep me down “Rick, give me a hand!”
Tall Guy rushes over to assist. Each of them grab my shoulders, forcing me back into an upright position. Every thrash is completely useless, especially when Dr Voss rejoins us. He leans over the bed, dangling the tube in front of me.
“Please — nngh — p-please don’t—!”
“You only have yourself to blame for this, Ashley.”
Ignoring my dreaded whimper, he starts to stretch out the tube. “Keep him still, so that I can measure the length we need.”
The ‘nurses’ press down on my shoulders, keeping me firmly in place. The doctor threads the tube from the outside of my nose, around the back of my ear and down to the centre of my chest, murmuring to himself. “Ah, perfect. Tilt his head.”
“No!”
Despite the frantic jerking of my body, the ‘nurses’ grab a vice hold of my jaw, forcing me into the perfect position for him to insert the tube through my nose. He wastes no time, advancing it straight down. Almost immediately I’m gagging, retching, panicking—
“Stop struggling!” Dr Voss hisses, oblivious to my terrified struggles, “Just keep swallowing it down — nngh — that’s it, swallow, Ashley. Swallow!”
Tears trickle down my cheeks as I’m forced to keep swallowing that wretched thing, until he finally tells me to stop. I cough loudly, still retching slightly as he attaches a small syringe to the tube, testing the fluid that comes out. “Aspirate obtained. pH consistent with gastric acid.”
He sighs in relief. “Alright. Tape it in place and then get him a straightjacket. We can’t have him pulling it out, can we?”
My breath catches as I pick out the last part of his order.
“N-no! Not that! Anything but that!”
My fierce struggles almost dislodge the tube. With a frustrated growl, Tall Guy wrenches my arms in front of me before taping the tube in place. I don’t make it easy for them, kicking and squirming the whole time as I continue to shriek out loud. “Stop it! No! No—”
“Calm. Down.”
Dr Voss is suddenly in front of me. His hands grab my jaw in a tight grip, forcing me to look at him. I can only rasp in terror as he stares right into my eyes. “Answer me this: whose fault was this, Ashley?”
“Nngh—m-mine,” I half-whisper, my hands trembling by my sides.
“That’s right, my boy — your fault. We could have avoided this. I even gave you multiple chances — but no. You thought you knew better than me, didn’t you?”
I gulp, the back of the tube tickling my throat. It’s enough to almost make me gag. “I understand that you are frightened — and the paranoid thoughts certainly aren’t helping — but I won’t allow this kind of behaviour to continue either.”
His frown deepens. “And what would your family say? Do you think they’d be proud of you? Proud of this whole defiant display?”
The mention of my family stabs at me like a knife. “Because this isn’t you — and it only provides me with further proof that you are not safe to care for yourself.”
I bite hard on my lip, trying to stop another sob from coming out. Seeing that, he releases his hold, sighing. “Look. This is our position, Ashley. I am your doctor and you are my patient. I know what is best for you and I’m the only one who can help you whilst you’re in this state — you need me to help you.”
“B-but—”
“And if you don’t cooperate with your treatment plan, then I will be forced to keep you here even longer, for your own safety.”
“Nngh…”
I suck in a breath, especially as I notice Jerkface returning with a frightening looking jacket in his arms. I’d seen one used in movies and comics before, usually to restrain mentally unstable patients in asylums. The mere symbolism comes with its own labels — Insane. Freak. Psycho.
...I actually feel a lot like one of those patients right now.
“P-please,” I beg, sniffling, “please don’t put me in that thing. I-I’ll get better, I promise—”
“I know you will — as long as you follow your doctor’s orders,” my doctor answers, “No more little games, no more hunger-strikes and no more reckless attempts to escape — because this isn’t something you can just run away from.”
He peers at me seriously, emphasising his words. “There is no escape from any of this. You can deny it all you want, but this is your reality — and the sooner you accept that, then the easier this will be.”
The words begin to imprint into my brain. An icy chill runs down my spine.
No...escape?
“Do I make myself clear, Ashley?”
I stare back at his blurred form through my teary vision, unable to respond. The words are trapped in my throat.
“B-but—”
“Do I make myself clear, Ashley?”
His brown eyes stare intensely into my own. I gasp, swallowing even harder.
“Y-yes,” I almost whisper, “c-crystal clear…”
“Good boy,” he answers quietly, “so we won’t be having any more problems like this again, will we?”
Sniffling, I squeeze my eyes shut, bowing my head in defeat.
“N-no, Dr Voss. No we won’t.”
I hesitate for a moment, hating myself, before weakly adding on. “I…I-I’m sorry—”
“It’s alright. I forgive you, Ashley.”
His firm expression vanishes. Now all I see is a surprisingly gentle smile as he squeezes my shoulder, as if the last few minutes...never actually happened. “See? Isn’t it so much easier when we work with each other?”
I find myself automatically nodding with him. In a confusing gesture, he uses his own sleeve to wipe the tears from my face. “I really don’t like having to take these harsher measures, my boy — but you know it’s for your own good, don’t you?”
I don’t respond, simply averting my gaze in shame. “Now, be a good boy and let Matthias put the jacket on you.”
I sniffle again, watching as Jerkface approaches with the dreaded jacket. Trying to stop the trembling in my hands, I reluctantly hold out my arms, squeezing my eyes shut. I soon feel the soft sleeves of the jacket snugly fitting over them, followed by the rest of my upper body. I don’t put up a single struggle, only a frightened whimper when he starts to buckle it up.
“Nngh…”
“I know,” Dr Voss murmurs quietly, “I know it is frightening, but it’s for your own safety. If you promise not to pull out the tube, then perhaps we can remove it tomorrow, but for now…”
I merely incline my head, sucking in a breath as Tall Guy comes over to assist, buckling up my arms until I’m trapped in a tight self-hug. “Thank you, gentlemen. That will do.”
“Yes, sir.”
Without another word, they help me to lie back down in my bed, even adjusting my pillow for me. Dr Voss approaches again, giving the tube one last check.
“I’ll prescribe a set feeding regimen for you and we’ll need daily bloods to monitor refeeding syndrome. I’ll add that to your treatment plan before we start fresh tomorrow. I’ll also update your family for you.”
I don’t respond, simply keeping my eyes closed as water continues to leak from them. I hear the doctor start to move away, before his footsteps suddenly stop, as if remembering something. “Oh and speaking of your family…they still haven’t called themselves to check up on you, even after I informed them of your acute escalation.”
His almost deliberately timed update hits me like a vicious punch to my stomach.
They still haven’t…called? Even after this — all of this — they’re just…ignoring me?
My chest tightens. They really…don’t care about me, do they?
“I can’t even begin to imagine how much you must be hurting right now, to be betrayed by the ones who are supposed to love you,” he continues, “It really is a shame.”
I only partially hear his words, instead peering past him towards the blurred collection of my photos now pinned against the wall. My eyes flicker from each of their faces, searching for any signs of affection amongst their pixelated gazes.
What did I do wrong? Why don’t they want to—
“Especially after what you went through with...your parents.”
His words are like a trigger. Just like that, I’m back on that porch, saying my goodbyes to them before school.
My…last goodbyes.
“It’s just for a few weeks, Ash. That’s all.”
Dad crouches in front of me, gently holding my shoulders. “Trust me, the time will fly — and you know you’ll have fun with your aunt and uncle, right?”“I do, but…”
I peer up at him. My own eyes shine with uncertain tears, fingers tightening around the handle of my hedgehog suitcase. “I-I’ll really miss you.”
“Oh sweet pea, we’ll miss you too.”
Mom joins us, lowering herself to our current level as Dad wraps his arms around me. I feel his smooth hands running through my hair, tousling it gently to comfort me.
“Y-you’ll call, right?”
“Every night. We’ll want to hear all about your day and all the fun you’re having without us~”
Dad nods in agreement with her, holding me a little tighter when I still seem hesitant.
“Listen, Ash. I know that the world can seem like a scary place — especially when your mom and I aren’t around — but you know what to do if you get scared, right?”
“Mind Over Matter,” I answer immediately.
“Exactly — Mind Over Matter, don’t trust strangers and always be careful.”
Dad hesitates for a moment. “Because...there might also be other times when Mom and I can’t...always be with you, even when we really want to be, so—”
“Lyndon.”
Mom shakes her head. With a small nod, Dad turns back to me with a fresh smile on his face.
“So that’s when you’ll need to be extra brave for us, okay?”
“O-okay,” I say, forcing my biggest smile for their sake, “I can be brave, Dad.”
“You already are, Ash. You’re our big brave boy.”
She presses a kiss on my forehead. “And as Dad said, we’ll be back before you know it, alright?”
“...you promise, Mom?”
Mom leans a little closer. Her finger brushes a stray strand of my hair, fixing it behind my ear.
“Promise.”
She smiles again, caressing my face softly. Dad watches us fondly, before opening his arms wide.
“Alright, come on. Family huddle time. Bring it in!”
The two of them catch me in their embrace, hugging me close. I squeeze them both tightly, laughing quietly along with them as Mom almost pulls Dad over. I inhale the sweet scent of Mom’s floral perfume. My face rubs against Dad’s soft cotton shirt. The three of us just hug each other tightly, in our own little huddle.
Safe.
“Ashley — Ashley?”
Mom and Dad are gone. The arms around me vanish and I’m back on that bed again. The only one saying my name...is him.
Always him.
“I know that this has been…quite overwhelming, so I’ll leave you to rest now.”
He pauses for a moment. “And I know you’re still hurting from their betrayal — but don’t worry. I won’t give up on you that easily. Trust me.”
Before I can even think of a response, the door is already closing behind him. Its high-pitched beep echoes through the quiet room, eventually fading into the silence. It lingers for about five seconds, maybe seven.
Then — with nothing to stop me — I finally break down.
Whew that was...a lot... (sweats)
(Ahem) Thanks so much to everyone who has kept up and followed Ash's story so far. I apologise if some of the topics in this chapter were a little dark, but it's a hint as to the kind of events that are going on behind the scenes. Medwhump wise I had a tonne of fun writing this chapter, as well as the slow process of gradually breaking Ash down through his 'treatment'. It's all for his own good though, right?
Next chapter will hopefully be up next Friday, once again thank you so much and any feedback is much appreciated. Enjoy the week ahead and take care of yourselves, lovelies! xx
That’s literally all I can force out after Dex’s...completely crazy response.
I have to have heard that wrong—
“You heard me,” he replies softly, not once taking his eyes off of my stunned form, “You’re a super, Ash. Just like us.”
I blink back at him in disbelief. My eyes flicker between him and Dr Slade, waiting for them to continue, to throw out the punchline, or just to offer some other weird explanation behind his revelation — but I get nothing. Nothing at all. Just an uncomfortable silence that settles across the room. Eventually, I manage to break it.
“...superpowers don’t exist. Fact.”
“Fiction,” Dex counters to my semi-programmed response, “I know how it sounds, but they are real. You have them. You’ve experienced them—”
“What—what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the green light and the prickles, Ash. You know, those ‘hallucinations’ you told me about?”
My heart begins to race, especially as Dex gestures to my hands. “Those are all a sign of your powers, kiddo. Everything that they told you has been a lie—”
“No. No, that’s not—that can’t be…”
The words slip out gradually, ringing with denial. Disbelief enters my voice. Fear follows with every deliberate shake of my head. “N-no. No, you’re—you’re wrong!”
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to calm my breathing again. Dr Slade watches me helplessly, clearly unsure how to comfort me right now.
“I’m sorry, Ash—”
“No—time out. Time out!”
Both of them wince at my pleading cry. Frantically peering between them, I begin reeling off my counter-arguments with growing emphasis. “All of this is fact: I don’t have powers. We’re on a psych ward, it’s all in my head and none of it is real—”
“But it is—”
“Then why can’t I just magically make green fire right now, huh?” I challenge through gritted teeth, “Tell me, why?!”
“...it’s because of that thing around your neck.”
Dex silently gestures to the choker around my throat — the same choker that had repeatedly stunned me less than five minutes ago.
“The…vitals choker?” I almost whisper, half-expecting it to start zapping me again.
“It’s more than just a choker,” Dex explains grimly, “Not only is it connected to a device that allows it to deliver ‘motivational shocks’ from a remote location, but yours also contains a form of advanced power-suppressing tech. It’s basically designed to block off any abilities of the wearer until they’re actually needed — and I can see from here that your current suppression setting is sitting at about...ninety percent.”
He gestures to the chip again. “And after I activate this little thing, then all of the collars with connected serial numbers will automatically unlock.”
“They will?” I gasp, already fumbling with the choker.
“Yup,” Dex confirms, “It might feel a little weird to start with, but you’ll re-adjust soon enough.”
Holding the chip closer, the younger doctor sends Dr Slade and I an encouraging smile. “So, shall we find out what zero percent suppression looks like?”
My former neighbour has zero hesitation.
“Go for it, lad. Ash, are you ready?”
I almost don’t hear him. My mind is whirring at a million miles a minute right now.
This has to be some kind of trick.
“We’ve already wasted enough time. I’m just gonna do it,” Dex decides.
Superpowers aren’t real.
“Okay. One, two...three.”
The choker clicks loudly against my throat. The pressure eases around my neck as it suddenly loosens.
Superpowers aren’t real.
The collar drops to the ground with a loud clatter, rolling harmlessly across the floor. Slowly, I move my hand to its former spot, tracing over the burnt area of skin from earlier.
Superpowers aren’t re—
“Ngha!”
Fire — burning waves of fire — immediately ignite inside of me. My body shudders violently. I feel it coursing through me, spreading down every vessel and nerve. A sharp cry leaves my lips. My breath is temporarily stolen as my fingers begin to tingle. Both of my palms prickle at the same time, heat rising within them.
Just the hallucinations. It’s not real—
“Look at your hands, Ash.”
I shake my head hard, tears pricking my eyes.
No, I can’t. I can’t look—
“Gnngha!”
The pain forces my eyes open. I stare down, right at my hands — at the green.
“N-no no no — not real, it’s not real, it’s not…h-huh?”
No matter how many times I blink, it doesn’t go away. I see exactly the same thing — that green glowing light, the same one from my nightmares, almost dancing across my fingertips. Sparks fly from all of them, bathing my whole body in…warmth.
“Wh-what — the — h-heck…?”
The emerald begins to blur before my eyes. At the same time, something else starts to change. What had begun as a barely tolerable sensation is now shifting into something…almost pleasant. Warm, soothing and comforting. Like a gentle glow that settles over me, sapping away my pain. As it does, I feel…invigorated. Energised.
Alive.
“Ahh…hahhh…”
I can’t help but gasp as this…thing…drifts through me. The whole process — every second of it — feels nothing short of surreal.
Is…this even happening? Am I…dreaming? Or is it just one big hallucination that—
“O-oh thank God!”
I turn my head towards Dr Slade. Sheer relief crosses his face as his own energy returns. I watch as he rubs at his neck, half-laughing as the cuts on his arms…begin closing themselves up.
“Wh-wha…?”
I gawp at him. The next time I look — they’re gone. Not a trace. Not a single scratch left.
…yep, definitely dreaming—
“You okay there, kiddo?”
Dex moves a little closer to me. I stare back down at the green, trembling.
“I…uh…I-I don’t know…”
The right words fail to come out. I lift my head up to meet his eyes, tears trickling down my face. My voice starts to crack with desperation. “I—y-you’re seeing this too, right? It’s not just me? Not just in my head?”
Dex’s nod is as clear as day. A sob of relief slips free. “O-oh God…oh God, oh God. This…this is…!”
Real.
At that realisation, a different form of panic seeps in. An even worse one.
“Just take some deep breaths, Ash,” Dr Slade murmurs, barely audible over my current hyperventilating, “It’s arite—”
“It’s real. I-it’s actually real and they—they told me it wasn’t, that—that I was just seeing things, that—that’s it all just in my head—then why—why did they—why—?!”
“Ah know, ah know. Shhh, shh shh.”
He gently squeezes my shoulder, comforting me as I try to settle my breathing. “Breathe with me, lad. In — and out. That’s it.”
Together, we start breathing at the same time. Deep breaths in — and out. We repeat the process a few more times, gradually helping to calm me down. The adrenaline eases. My chest loosens. The tears stop. I don’t know how long it takes, but by the time I’m fully orientated again, Dex is standing in front of us.
“I’m really sorry to have sprung this on you, Ash, but it was in your best interests that you knew.”
He runs a hand through his blonde ponytail. “And with that outta the way, we should probably get going. It’s only a matter of time before they figure out I was stalling them. After that, my cover’s as good as blown — and my inside privileges will be gone too.”
“Then we’d better move fast.”
Crouching down to my level, Dr Slade places both of his hands on my shoulders. “Lad, did you hear all that?”
I did hear it — but there is one thing I’ve just realised.
“...what about the other patients? They’re trapped here too, right?”
“We’ll come back for them — with reinforcements,” Dex answers reassuringly, “Luckily, I was able to get some useful information from this place to help us out — and as long as we get out with that, then the others still have a fighting chance.”
“And a fair few of them will now have their powers restored without their collars, so that might also keep the staff busy for a bit.”
For a moment I see a flash of their faces. The ones I would be leaving behind.
Elle. Bryce. Cody. Alex. Krissy.
“...o-okay,” I agree quietly, “then we just need to go.”
“That’s right,” Dr Slade says soothingly, “so dry those tears, lad. We’re going to be just fine, arite? I know everything seems scary right now, but we can’t lose hope yet.”
He’s right. I know he is — but it doesn’t change the fact that I feel completely lost right now.
He’s right. Pull yourself together, Ash.
Taking a deep breath, I wipe away the last of my tears and straighten up.
“...is it safe to come out?”
“Lemme just check that…”
Dex heads towards the door, scanning it open with his card. He peeks around the corner, checking both directions. “Nothing left. Nothing right.”
A second later, he responds with a thumbs up. “Yep, all clear.”
“Thank you, Dr Simmons.”
The older doctor ushers us out into the corridor. He automatically takes up his position at the head of our group and sends us a confident grin over his shoulder. “Now let’s go find this elevator.”
A few corridors down — and one uncomfortably close shave later — we finally reach our destination. By a stroke of actual good luck, the elevator is already there and waiting. After a last quick check to make sure we’re clear, the three of us hurry inside of it, immediately shutting the doors.
“Where to?” I ask, hovering my finger over the floor buttons.
“Lower ground. That’s where we need to go.”
“Got it.”
The icon emits a soft glow as I lightly press on it, triggering the start of our slow descent. Even though we might be safe for now, my chest is still painfully tight from dread. “What’s actually down there?”
“Our ticket out of here,” the older doctor answers, tapping his foot against the ground, “There’s a tunnel to allow vehicles in and out of the institute. That’s our target.”
“...this place has a secret underground tunnel?” I comment, blinking in disbelief.
“Probably so they can process their shadier ‘deliveries’. You know, transporting ‘patients’ against their will?”
I shudder silently at Dex’s grim comment. “Anyway, we’re gonna use that same tunnel to our advantage. It’s a bit of a maze down there, but hopefully the rest of the staff are still busy on the upper—ack!”
A loud ominous clunking sounds above our heads. The elevator floor suddenly jerks to an abrupt halt. Its metal walls tremble around us. The force is strong enough to almost lurch us forwards.
“Wh-what the—?!”
“Mother lover!”
My heart jumps into my throat as the vibrations start to cease. Despite how unsteady I suddenly feel on my feet, we’re not moving at all. Not up, or down.
We’re just...stuck.
“What’s going on?” I pant, ignoring the increasing pain in my palms, “Is it jammed?”
“More like overridden,” Dex hisses, “Ash, try the buttons!”
Logical sense immediately tells me to press the big red alarm button to summon help. As my finger brushes against it, Dex suddenly swipes at my hand. “No, no, no — not the emergency one! That will tell them where we are!”
“But—isn’t that what you’re supposed to do in an emergency?!” I retaliate, “Call for help and raise the alarm?”
“Normally yes, but this is different, lad. The elevator might have just been stopped as a security measure. If we press that button, everyone in the facility will know where we are and we will not get another chance at this again!”
“And normally you would just hang tight until help arrives and not try to leave the elevator in case it starts up again — but since we don’t want our ‘help’ to find us, then naturally, we need to do the opposite of that advice.”
Wait—what?!
“Exactly — you two keep trying the other buttons. I’ll check the doors.”
The older doctor immediately stalks over to the elevator doors, pulling and prying at them with all of his strength. I watch him wearily, my mind whirring.
Am I the only sane person in this elevator right now?!
Still very uncertain about this, I anxiously join Dex in checking out the other buttons. The small space is soon filled with various sounds: my own panicked breathing, our exerted grunts of effort and the frantic clicking of every single icon. Dex’s wavering calls soon join the chorus.
“Come on, come on! Sometime today would be super nice!”
“It’s no use! None of them are working!” I cry out, jamming on the same button out of desperation. “Please work, please work—!”
“Then these — gnngh — blasted doors are our only way out!”
Dr Slade jerks his head over his shoulder, his arms straining under their weight. “Give — nngh — give me a hand!”
“Hold on, Doc! Let’s just — gnngh — get these things — nngh — open!”
When spamming on the buttons continues to fail, I rush over to join my older companions. Together, we yank at the stubborn metal. I feel my teeth grinding against each other from the sheer effort it takes to open them.
“Almost — nngh — there!”
“Thank God — hnngh!”
With one last tug, we manage to force both of them fully open — exposing our current trapped position in the cramped elevator shaft. Light streams in from the nearest floor, about a metre below us. The area is soon lit up by the glowing green now leaping off my fingers. A small gap rests between us and the next floor. Below that is just…darkness.
Breathe. You’re okay. This is…totally normal.
“Looks like we’re stuck in the shaft,” Dex reports with a wince, “Oh boy, this isn’t good…”
“And it’s not like we have a ladder or anything.”
Dr Slade grits his teeth. “Looks like we’ll have to jump down.”
“...jump?”
I gawp at my former neighbor dubiously, before following his finger down towards the opening of the next floor. I inhale sharply. “N-no, no way—”
“Trust me, I know what we’re doing,” he insists, “This is far from the first facility I’ve had to escape from and I doubt it’ll be my last.”
“But it’s too—wait!”
Too late. He’s already slipping through the gap, manoeuvring his body in some weird combination between a crouch and a jump onto the other side. I hold my breath as he barely makes it to the edge, narrowly misplacing his footing.
This is crazy — absolutely, definitely one hundred percent crazy!
“What—Doc!”
“It’s fine! I’m perfectly fine!”
His voice soon sounds from the other side, unnervingly unphased. “You go next, Dr Simmons.”
“Aha…okay, oookay — can’t believe this is my first time doing this, but there’s a first time for everything — hiyah!”
Before I can shriek a warning, Dex is already squeezing through after him. I instantly panic when his foot catches the floor — dangerously close to the edge — but then he manages to get into the right position, joining the other doctor on the opposite side. “Whew! Now that was something!”
“Excellent work — now go scout ahead for us and check the corridors for any dangers. We’ll catch up with you shortly—”
“Um…D-Dr Slade?” I stammer, really not liking the current view.
“It’s arite, lad. I’m staying right here.”
His toes brush against the edge of the floor as he extends an arm out towards me. “It’s your turn now. Just reach for my hand and jump down.”
It takes all my will to not look down that tiny gap into the dark abyss waiting at the bottom — a long way down. Nausea ripples in my throat.
That emergency button is looking really tempting right now!
“I–I can’t do it!”
“You’ll be fine. Just trust me.”
“No, this—this is too far! This is way too—!
“Ash, look at me.”
His tone immediately gets my attention. Reaching out his hand even further, our eyes meet. I hear nothing but his serious words. “I promise I won’t let you fall.”
“But—”
“Trust me, Lightbug. I will catch you.”
...Lightbug?
Something in his voice gives me just enough courage to listen. Swallowing, I shuffle closer to the elevator edge, crouching down to get into a better position. I keep my gaze firmly on Dr Slade the entire time.
You can do this.
My glimmering hands tremble as I reach out towards his own. I brace myself, terrified.
Mind. Over. Matter.
With a frightened cry, I allow myself to drop. My body starts to plummet down, guided by gravity. My feet catch the edge as I start to stumble. I’ve barely let out a terrified shriek before I feel both of his hands tightly grabbing onto me, locking in place around my wrists.
“Easy, I’ve got you — I’ve got you!”
He doesn’t let go — not until we’re both well away from the dangerous edge. Panting, I find myself clinging onto him like a lifeline, struggling to process our daring escape. I notice a faint burn mark on his hands where I had grabbed him, but it’s already starting to heal itself before our eyes.
Oh God—
“Lad, are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?”
“N-no, I’m fine. Just…”
I draw in another deep breath, still shaken up. “Th-thanks, Dr Slade.”
“Anytime,” he replies, carefully helping me up, “Come on, let’s see where Dr Simmons got off to. I’m hoping the corridors ahead are all clear by now.”
“And if they’re not?” I dare to ask, my fingers prickling a little more.
“...then I want you to stay close to me until we reach that tunnel.”
He sends me a serious look. “And if things take a turn for the worst and you have to use your powers, then use them. Whatever gets us out of this godforsaken place.”
“B-but I hardly know the first thing about them, let alone how to use them!”
“Don’t worry, you seem like you’re a fast learner, lad. You’ll be fine.”
I feel like his faith in me is very misplaced as we hurry down the corridor. A large letter ‘G’ catches my attention, at least giving us an idea of our current location.
Looks like we’re on the ground floor.
“One more level to go?” I confirm, pressing close to him as we carefully navigate the corridors.
“Aye, but we still need to be prepared. We have no idea how many of them might be down here, so tread with caution, arite?”
That’s exactly how we proceed — with a lot of caution. Dr Slade guides me the whole way. One arm stays protectively in front of me, shielding me and pushing me back when a stray staff member or uniform comes a bit too close. We duck, dip and dodge our way along the floor until we finally find it: the stairwell leading down.
“There you are!”
Dex greets us on the other side with a relieved sigh. “I did a clean sweep of the stairs and it looks like we’re good. The coast's all clear.”
“Brilliant. Let’s move — just hang on a wee bit longer, lad. We’re almost there.”
Allowing myself the tiniest hopeful smile, I hop over the chain on the ‘restricted access’ sign and follow them both down the silent winding staircase towards the lower ground level. Our own footsteps are surprisingly faint around us, pattering against each step in our grippy socks as we descend further into the institute. Dex is the exception of course, but he’s obviously well-versed in stealth training, given his own feet barely make a sound.
“Do you know what type of security measures are on the next level, Dr Simmons?”
“Yep, basically everything you’d expect from a creepy doctor’s crib — plenty of cameras installed too.”
He keeps his voice hushed as we move. “The tunnel we wanna use is locked by a security gate. As long as you’ve got an ID card for Band B staff and above — which we thankfully happen to have — then it should open right up. We can try going on foot, or if they’ve got any spare vehicles just sitting around then we can always—”
He suddenly falls quiet. Both of his feet stop on the next step down, prompting Dr Slade and I to do the same. At first I think we’re just imagining things, but then I hear them, descending quickly from from above us.
Footsteps — lots of them.
“Dr Slade—”
“Keep going,” he hisses, “Straight down and through those doors, before they catch onto us — hurry!”
I don’t waste a moment. I don’t dare to glance over my shoulder, trying to muffle my panting as we stumble down the last few steps. As the footsteps quicken above us, we finally reach the doors. A quick scan of our stolen ID card allows us immediate access.
“Inside — quickly!”
The three of us dash around the basement-like area, illuminated by the weakly flickering spotlights above our heads. It certainly doesn’t help set the mood. The lighting is so dim, that I have to rely on my own green light to guide us around. Several stacked crates and silver coated vans — all branded with the same weird symbol that is stitched into our uniforms — are parked all around the area. Besides us, it’s quiet. Empty.
But not for long.
“Over here!”
Dex pulls us both by the arm towards the nearest line of vans, no doubt used for transporting various supplies and ‘patients’. From there, we sink to the ground together, briefly catching our breath as the door beeps open.
Breathe. breathe…
We can all hear them — the multiple footsteps heading in our direction. They’ve barely made their way through before the door beeps open a third time. I shudder, desperately trying to conceal the growing green in my palms.
Not exactly helpful for stealth when you’re lit up like a human glowstick!
“Split up — you all take that side. We’ll stick over here. Yell if you find any trace of them!”
My insides twist with nerves.
No guesses who the ‘them’ in that order is referring to—
“There it is.”
Hissing under his breath, Dex points out the security gate on the other side of the basement. “If we make it to that gate, then we’re home and dry.”
“That might be a bit of an exaggeration — but you’re right. We need to get over there.”
“Even with all of them searching for us?” I whisper, trying to bundle my hands in my pants.
“I’m afraid so.”
He peers across at me sympathetically. “Stick by me, Lightbug. Things might get a wee bit hairy.”
As exhausted and overwhelmed as I am, I know there’s no time to rest. We’re still very much in the danger-zone.
You can do this.
I use both the vehicle and his hand to pull myself back to my feet. Keeping my hands as hidden as I can, we use the parked vehicles to our advantage as a form of effective cover. So far it seems to be working well. I try my best to tune out the footsteps of our pursuers as we inch closer towards the exit gate.
Ding.
The sound comes out of nowhere. All of us instantly recognise it.
The elevator!
Cursing under his breath, Dr Slade holds an arm in front of me and Dex, trying to peek around the van.
“Smith. Update.”
I freeze.
It’s him—
“Someone used Tod’s skeleton chip to deactivate a bunch of the collars,” a gruff voice reports, “They’re still rounding up the rogue ones upstairs. As for the others, we caught sight of them heading this way. They’re almost certainly hiding down here, sir.”
“Good.”
His footsteps sound louder than ever as they clack against the floor. “Block off every exit out of the building. Proportional measures only. My patients are not to be harmed — is that clear?”
“Yes, sir!”
Dex presses against me a little further, gritting his teeth as the guard barks out his orders to the rest of the crew. Dr Slade shakes his head, keeping his voice low.
“Alright. Either we run for it and hope we’re fast enough, or we lie low until they pass by.”
“But they just said they were going to block off the exits — which probably includes that one as well!”
From the way they both look at me, we all know that I’m right.
It’s now, or never.
“...arite.”
The older doctor gently squeezes my hand. “We move together. Just wait for them to head away. That’s it…now!”
We seize our chance. The three of us scurry along in tandem, as quietly as we can. Each step gets us closer to our end goal. I swish my head left and right as the footsteps threaten to close in on us. Dex holds up a hand to stop us now and again, checking everything is clear before ushering us on.The whole time I keep my free hand out of sight in my clothing, but all it does is burn the fabric. A charred cotton scent lingers in the air. I swallow uneasily.
Mind. Over. Matter.
“Not far now!”
My former neighbour’s reassurance has its desired impact. Forcing myself to focus, I keep stumbling after him, trying not to burn his hand. Ahead of us, Dex manages an impressive sneak attack on one of the nurses, knocking them out against one of the crates. Hope growing, we keep pressing forward. The exit gate grows nearer by the minute.
Almost there. We’re almost—
“Found ‘em!”
A sudden shout rings out from behind us. “I see ‘em, over by the gate!”
A dozen footsteps instantly flock towards our location. Our cover’s blown. Dex curses.
“Screw it — just run!”
We sprint. All of us sprint as fast as we can. The two doctors take the lead. I see them exchanging punches with the uniforms. Everything rushes by in a blur. All I can do is keep running, using my hands to guide us. I have no idea how to use my so-called ‘power’ to actually help.
“Dr Slade—ack!”
Fingers latch onto me. With a cry, I shove my hands in uniformed faces, half-blinding them with my light. The grip on me soon releases, allowing me to scramble away. The prickling becomes almost unbearable. Everything is an uncoordinated mess. I just move as my body tells me, throwing the green fire around haphazardly, hoping for the best—
“Lightbug, down here!”
Dr Slade’s hand snatches mine up once again as we charge around the corner. As we do, we finally come face to face with our way out.
“The card—the card!”
Dex gestures wildly to the door. “Doc, toss it!”
The card flies through the air. The blonde reaches out to grab it — only to suddenly collapse to the ground with a pained holler.
“D-Dex!”
“Bloody—lad!”
The two of us drop next to him. Dr Slade instantly starts to assess the damage, but even I don’t have to be a doctor to identify the problem. Namely, the weirdly shaped bullet lodged in his leg.
“I-I’m fine! Just — nngh — just help me get up before they—!”
The footsteps halt around us. Multiple clicks can be heard.
“...I think it might be too late for that, lad.”
His grim expression fills me with dread. Gulping, I hesitantly look up from the bright red trickling from the new hole in Dex’s shin to the cluster of uniforms now surrounding our group. I recognise Big Nose amongst them, pointing his weapon in our direction. He’s not the only one. A few other uniforms are doing exactly the same, clearly not afraid to shoot…whatever at us. A sea of disapproving faces leers back at me, parting to allow the head doctor through. I find myself shrinking away, my heart racing in panic.
“Dammit,” Dex hisses, his own face beginning to pale, “There’s...there’s no fighting our way out of this.”
Dr Slade wordlessly shakes his head. Our earlier spark of hope begins to fizzle out as he peers apologetically at me.
“I’m sorry, Lightbug—”
“Give it up, Slade.”
Dr Voss takes a step forward, his eyes sweeping over us. His gaze is firm, but also…sympathetic. “There’s nowhere for you to run, so please just cooperate.”
“Not in a million years—”
“I know you think you’re helping him,” he interrupts, holding up his hands in a placating gesture, “but I can tell you right now that this is not the way to do it.”
My former neighbour just growls at him.
“D-Dr Voss…”
Turning his attention to me, the man’s features soften.
“Ashley — are you hurt anywhere?”
“I…n-not really, no.”
“Good. Slade can be quite…unpredictable at times.”
He extends his hand out towards me. “Come over here, my boy. It’s alright.”
My gaze flickers from his outstretched hand, to the now encouraging expressions on the nurses’ faces—
“Don’t listen to him, lad. He’s using you.”
Dr Slade’s words send a shiver through me. It’s enough to make me hesitate.
Has he really been lying to me all this—
“There’s no need to be afraid, Ashley. You’ve done nothing wrong at all. You’re safe now.”
He remains as patient and understanding as ever. I glance back at the green on my fingers. The green that…I don’t one-hundred percent know is even there or not.
Is this real? Is any of this real? Will it all go away if I just…go with him?
The war continues to wage in my head. A war that only I can control.
He’s helped me so much. He’s making me better. He—he cares about me!
Slowly, my feet begin to shuffle forwards, back towards him—
“Ack!”
I’m instantly tugged back. Dr Slade shoves me behind him and Dex, both of them stepping forward to shield me. I gasp shakily, conflicted.
“You’re not laying another finger on him, Voss!”
Dr Slade—
“Let the boy go, Slade—”
“Over my dead body!” he spits, “And that’s one thing that cannot be arranged!”
“Yeah, you’ll have to get through both of us first, so back. Off.”
Dex’s defiance effectively shifts Dr Voss’s focus towards him. He folds his arms, narrowing his eyes at his now former assistant.
“Of course. How could I forget about you, Dexter?” he begins disappointedly, “I must admit, you certainly had me convinced with your little ‘apprentice act’.”
He takes a step forward, keeping his tone impressively level. “You were never even approved to partake in the Pembrooke Partnership Programme in the first place, were you?”
Dex just scowls at him. The colour begins to fade from his face.
“What can I say? I’m renowned for being annoyingly persistent,” he responds coolly, “By the way, hacking into that system was child’s play. You might want to hire some new admin staff next time. You know, people that are actually competent?”
Dr Voss’s left eye twitches in frustration.
“...regardless of that, it still doesn’t explain why you chose to come here. I’m very interested to hear your motives for such a move.”
“Oh yeah? Well I’m very interested to hear how you think that human experimentation is suddenly completely legal here.”
“...I have no idea what you’re talking about, Dr Simmons.”
“Then let me rephrase that for you, Voss: Go directly to Hell.”
I struggle to keep track of the conversation, watching them go back and forth. That’s when I notice something out of the corner of my eye.
“D-Dex…your leg...”
My startled cry quickly gets his own attention, his eyes widening. Soft blue light gently licks over the bloody hole in Dex’s shin. My gaze shifts from the now glowing wound, to the suddenly uneasy expression on his face. Given the stunned murmurs around us, it’s clear that I’m not the only one seeing this.
“I-it’s fine, kiddo. It’s how I work.”
“But…h-huh?”
The next time I blink, it looks as if the wound has…almost completely cleared up. Blood still stains the fabric of his pant leg at the bullet’s entry point, but otherwise the actual bleeding has stopped. It almost looks as if the tissues have knitted themselves back together.
Just like Dr Slade’s earlier—!
“Well well, aren’t you full of surprises, Dexter?”
Dr Voss seems to have already recovered. His initial shock is now replaced by clear fascination. “I should have seen it from the start. It certainly explains your attempts to sabotage my research behind my back—”
“Pretty sure you and I have completely different definitions of what qualifies as ‘research’, you—”
“And now I understand why those procedures disturbed you as much as they did,” he continues, still smiling, “You’re a sanitatem, aren’t you?”
My eyebrows furrow in confusion.
Sani-what-now?
“No, I’m obviously the damn tooth fairy!” he snaps, a slight waver to his words, “You know, you should probably get those glasses reviewed once in a—”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he interrupts, unfazed, “in which case...this actually changes things quite a bit for you, Dexter.”
The younger doctor stares back at him. Traces of fear are already beginning to flicker behind his eyes. “It really is a shame. I had a lot of faith in you, my boy— and this is how you repay me? After everything I’ve done for you?”
He jerks his head, his voice cold. “I’m disappointed in you, Dexter.”
“Oh believe me, the feeling’s more than mutual, ‘Doc’.”
An impatient expression begins to creep across Dr Voss’s face. Clearly he’s had enough of this back-and-forth.
“...we shall discuss this further in my office,” he answers coolly, “Now I shall give you one last chance to release my patients. If you do not, then we will be forced to take...alternative measures.”
I peer helplessly between the different doctors, painfully conflicted. I’m half-expecting another quip or insult, but both of my companions stay silent. They just glare hatefully back at my psychiatrist. Both of our groups square each other up. The weapons remain raised. The other two are uncomfortably tense. No one knows who is going to make the first move.
Who is right? Who is wrong? Who am I supposed to trust?!
The silence continues, until I feel the older doctor nudge my shoulder.
“Take the card and run,” he whispers, just loud enough for me to hear, “Run as if your life depends on it.”
About two metres from Dex’s feet, I notice the discarded ID card lying on the ground. My eyes widen in understanding.
Is he telling me to…?
“B-but Dr Slade—”
“We’ll be fine. Just get yourself out.”
Confused tears fill my eyes again. I seriously want to throw up right now.
“Last warning, Dexter.”
The uniforms take a step forward. I glance from the door, to Dr Voss’s face, to the card and back again. Dex sends me a faint nod. I suck in a fearful breath, left with two impossible choices.
Dr Voss…or the door? Trust him…or trust them?
The seconds drag by. My head pangs with pain. It tells me to do one thing. My gut tells me the opposite. The tears start to slip down my cheeks as I battle with fact — my psychiatrist who is trying to make me better — and fiction — the supposed ‘supers’ who are willing to risk their own freedom to save me.
Fact or fiction — Fact or fiction?
It only takes a few more seconds. Forcing away the last shred of doubt, I make my choice.
“...thanks, Dr Slade.”
My hands prickle by my sides. This time, I don’t fight it. I let it overtake me, glowing as bright as it possibly can — and let it fly.
“Wha—Ashley!”
I don’t wait. I dive for the card, snatching it up viciously. The green light blinds them all for a few seconds — but it’s still a few seconds. Taking the unexpected advantage, Dr Slade and Dex surge forwards, gaining the upper hand to strike back against the recovering uniforms. My companions block them, leaping straight into the action. Dealing with the nearest guard, Dr Slade shoves me in the direction of the exit, yelling after me.
“Go, Lightbug! GO!”
There’s no turning back now. With no other choice, I bolt for the door. I can hear them behind me, hollering and shrieking. I look back once, but they’re already out of sight, lost amongst the sea of uniforms. They’re hot on my heels, but I use every last bit of strength to make it to the door — that one single door between us and freedom.
Don’t look back, don’t look back—!
My hands all but slam against the metal. I fumble with the card in my hand. My fingers are slick with sweat as I shove it against the scanner. It instantly chimes in acceptance, the gate grinding open—
“Stop him! Stop him!”
Ignoring Dr Voss’s desperate calls, I dart through the open gate. The world is lost in a disorientating blur. I start scrambling through the tunnel, towards the light, towards—
“Ack!”
They’re already in front of me. I register the sudden sting in my arm, but it’s too late. More uniforms are right there, waiting behind the gate.
No—!
My legs instantly feel weaker. Their distorted faces show no compassion as they converge on me, forcing me the short distance back into the basement. Almost tripping over, I stagger back outside. Dr Slade and Dex are nowhere to be seen amongst the haze filling my eyes. I feel like I can hear them, distant, shouting out my name.
“Dr Slade! Dex! He—ack!”
My face collides with the floor. Something presses down on me, hard. Rough hands grab at my wrists, wrenching them behind my back. I yelp, squirming weakly as I try to fight against them.
“Hold him down!”
“N-no! No! Let me—nngh!”
Green flashes around me. One of the uniforms growls in pain. Every move to resist is sluggish. They have me pinned down, firm against the ground, barely able to move. “Stop it — nngh — Gnngh—!”
“Get the needle — now!”
“No! No no NO!”
Another anguished cry slips free. The hands continue forcing me down, until the patterns on the floor form a painful imprint on my cheek.
“How much do you want, Doc?”
Even with the world tilted on its side, I can still make him out, standing just a metre away. Out of sheer terror, I cry out for him.
“Dr Voss! Please — nngh — d-don’t let them—!”
“It’s in your best interests, Ashley.”
He folds his arms across his chest, staring down at me with…chilling disappointment. Lead settles in my stomach as he finally breaks his gaze. “Give him one milligram IM, stat. That should be enough to settle him down.”
“No, don’t! Don’t—no! No—hnnk!”
A cold unfamiliar sensation gushes through my veins. The effects work frighteningly quickly. My limbs refuse to cooperate. A dull heavy feeling spreads throughout my body. I barely have the energy to move at all, even just to tilt my head.
“Lightbug — Lightbug—!”
My head becomes heavier. The drug works its way through my system, forcing me to slip away. It’s impossible to fight it. My slurred attempt at his name is soon lost in my growing lack of alertness.
I’m…sorry…Dr…Sla…de…
With one last cry, our hope fades into darkness.
And now the fun begins~
Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck through to this point, it honestly means so much and I really hope (even if it was predictable) that the payoff was worth it :D I tried so hard to avoid a cliche reveal but hopefully did it justice. It looks like Dr Voss will be making a few...adjustments to Ash's treatment plan from here on :O I won't give anything away, but expect some (hopefully!) juicy med-whump in the next couple chapters ;)
Once again, have a wonderful weekend and take care of yourselves, lovelies! Sending love and best wishes :D xx
T/W: Forced administration, vomiting, self-harm, electric shocks
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“You good over there, kiddo?”
I jerk my head up from the table with a yelp. Blinking rapidly, I soon recognise the ponytailed doctor behind me, observing me curiously.
“Wh-wha—oh, Dr Simmons…!”
Groaning, I pull myself up. Both of my shoulders ache from my terrible posture. Several scrumpled colouring pages lie trapped under my arms in a barely completed mess. “S-sorry, I guess I fell asleep again.”
“Hey, nothing wrong with a quick power nap — although a bed would be more comfy.”
“Heh, probably.”
He smiles cheerily, dropping into the empty chair opposite me. The scraping of wood against the floor is accompanied by the animated background chatter of the TV. I recognise a few of the ‘zombies’ sitting around it, staring up at the colourful animations with child-like smiles of amusement.
“So, how’s everything going with your treatment?” the younger doctor asks, “Nothing odd or weird that you’ve noticed?”
“...not really,” I answer casually, “No side effects. Nothing like the last one.”
“Good, good. That’s all good~”
He clasps his hands under his chin, “But if there is anything that feels off — even the teeniest little thing — then you can tell me, okay?”
Can I, though? Can I really tell him?
“I um…”
I hesitate, biting my lip. Dr Simmons watches me patiently as I try to get my words out. “...actually, there is something, Dr Simmons — the hallucinations are back.”
“If you don’t mind me asking...what do those usually look like for you, buddy?”
“...lights, prickling sensations, loud thoughts — and then the other day I even saw my friends from the old hospital I was at, even though I know for a fact that they never came here.”
Although I haven’t seen them since that one time in the garden. Maybe it was just a bad day after all?
“Oof, that doesn’t sound fun,” he murmurs thoughtfully, “Hey listen — do me a favor and keep an eye on those, yeah? If they get any worse, then you tell me right away. I promise I won’t judge, not when I’m here to get you out of this mess.”
I blink back at the younger doctor gratefully, resting my elbows against the cold table.
“...thanks, Dr Simmons.”
“Anytime, Ash — oh, that reminds me.”
He clicks his fingers dramatically. “I heard something about room inspections tomorrow, so you might want to make sure yours is spick and span before they come around to judge it. Just a friendly tip to help you get more points~”
They sure pick their times.
“Got it. I’ll give it a quick whizz around later,” I add, picking up one of the pencils, “but first I should finish this thing — without falling asleep again.”
“Heh, I’ll leave you to it then, kiddo.”
Shooting me a smile, Dr Simmons rises up from the chair, tossing his ponytail over his shoulder. I send him a tired nod back, reaching for my former page—
“Oh and uh…just watch yourself, okay?”
For a single moment, the playful spark in his eyes vanishes. The young doctor’s usually friendly smile bears an unnerving glint as he leans across the table. “Don’t go getting into any trouble now.”
Before I can ask him anymore, he steps away from the table and hurries away down the corridor.
That was…weird.
Warily watching him leave, I try to focus on my half-finished colouring, although my mind is on anything but that task right now. After another half an hour of absent-minded scribbling, I decide to call it a day. After being escorted back to my room by one of the nurses, I attach the non-finished colouring of my mandala pattern to the wall with more glittery Washi-Tape. Surprisingly, I’ve accumulated quite the collection of colouring pages during my admission.
Alright, time to tidy up a bit.
It’s the last thing I want to do, but procrastinating won’t help me either. With a sigh, I begin to work my way through the room via my usual system-based approach. Each part forms an individual tick-box in the chore checklist, making it much more manageable.
Desk — check.
Closet — yep.
Bed — tomorrow.
Draws — got it.
Tiredly, I begin dusting off my bedside table with one of the towels from the bathroom. I replace the lamp, grab my discarded hairbrush and open my drawer to—
Wait — what’s this?
A crumpled piece of paper sits in the bottom of the draw. Dropping my brush, I pull out the folded page, squinting in confusion.
I…don’t remember leaving this in here. Unless I did? Or did someone else—wait, what even is it?
Swallowing, I slowly begin to unfold it. Opening it up, I’m greeted by a messy scrawl that I don’t recognise. It only contains four words. As I read them, I release a sharp gasp.
No. No this can’t—no!
Both of my hands start to shake. The note flutters almost gracefully to the floor. I fall back on the bed, my mind racing.
What. The. Heck?!
No matter where I look, I still see the words. Four simple words that fill me with dread.
DON’T TAKE THE MEDS
“Alright, kiddo, you know the drill.”
I almost don’t hear Pierce as he hands me my nightly pill pot. My fingers stiffly accept it, bringing the pot close to my face.
Don’t take the meds.
The warning is more than clear. Silently, I peer into the pot, taking a mental note of every last tablet — their colour, their shape, even their indication. I know they’ve been playing around with doses and other drugs to ensure there are no negative interactions with the new experimental treatment, but I haven’t questioned it that much.
Until tonight.
Only a nurse or doctor could have left that note. Why? Because they are the only ones with key cards to get into our rooms — fact. I certainly didn’t write that note, so that means...
I bite my lip hesitantly. Doubts begin to fester in my stomach.
But if the meds are meant to make me better…then why do they not want me to take them?
“Everything okay?”
“Y-yeah, just…checking it’s all there.”
Stay calm. Act natural.
My mind is torn. If someone hadn’t left that stupid warning then I wouldn’t even be questioning this right now. I just want to go to bed and Pierce probably just wants to get on with his drug round, but I still don’t know what to do. Even after going back and forth the past hour, I still don’t know.
But I need the meds to get better — fact. That much is definitely fact.
I raise the pot to my lips. The mental battle continues to rage in my head. Otherwise, the ward is quiet. No sound from my neighbour either. My hand hovers awkwardly in front of my face.
No — don’t take them. If someone left that warning, then they must know something. Krissy didn’t trust them either. Neither does Dr Slade. Maybe you shouldn’t either—
“What’s taking so long, Ash?”
Pierce peers at me curiously. His voice carries more concern than annoyance. “Normally you have no problem with them. Is something wrong?”
I don’t answer him, still unsure what to say. “They’re all the same as last night’s. I checked them all myself before I came in here. It’s all on your charts, just like normal.”
“I…”
My throat closes up a little. Licking my lips, I begin to lower my hand.
Pierce is nice. He’ll understand.
“I-I’m not feeling too good, Pierce. I’m sorry, I just...I feel really queasy all of a sudden.”
The nurse sends me a sympathetic glance.
“That’s okay. Take some small sips of water and a couple of nice deep breaths. Maybe even try taking one at a time, if that helps?”
Shakily, I reach for the glass of water and take a few sips. Then, I pluck a random pill from the bottom of the pot and hold it to my lips.
Maybe I can make it look like I took it?
I decide to try my luck, even my swallow, whilst shifting the pill in my mouth.
“Open up.”
Reluctantly, I obey his instruction, ignoring the current humiliation.
Don’t see it, don’t see it—
“Lift up your tongue, Ash.”
Oh crap!
I give my head a pleading shake. Pierce just sighs at my refusal.
“Look, I know you’re hiding it. Just admit it already.”
“Ugh—fine!”
I spit the soggy pill back into the pot, tearing up a bit. “I don’t want to take them — not tonight!”
Pierce’s eyes widen slightly.
“But you have to take them— Kiddo, I don’t know what’s suddenly changed. You’ve been doing really well up until—”
“I’m sorry, Pierce. I just…I-I just can’t take them anymore. They’re making me feel bad.”
“I know side effects suck, but they’re to make you better—”
“Not tonight, Pierce.”
I push the pot back into his hands. “I’ll try again in the morning, just…not tonight.”
My nurse is quiet. He stares back at me with an unreadable expression. “P-please, Pierce?”
“...okay.”
His expression softens, almost into one of understanding. “I get it. You’re having a bad day — and that’s fine. Sometimes we just…need a little extra help.”
I blink back at him as he takes a step forward, still smiling. “So let me help you out, kiddo.”
“Th-thanks, Pierce...thanks so—mmgh?!”
It all happens way too quickly. The hand clamped over my mouth. Sharp pain in my back as I’m shoved into the wall. A second hand pinning me against it. My own pained wheezes. Pierce’s face right in front of me, glaring into my tear-filled eyes.
“...let’s try that again.”
His voice grates harshly as he loosens his hold on me — just enough to grab the pill pot again. Holding it right to my face, he finally lets go of my mouth—
“P-Pierce what are you—aghck!”
The whole pot is emptied down my throat. I gag, choking on the tablets. Pierce covers my mouth again, his grip much tighter.
“There we go,” he responds in a chillingly calm tone, “Just take your meds. Swallow them all down. That’s it.”
I try to shake my head, attempting to spit them out. The hold on my mouth becomes almost painful.
“Nmmgh!”
I whimper, kicking him in the knee to make him let me go, but he’s much stronger. Every struggle only seems to annoy him even more.
“I said…swallow.”
Before I can react to his furious hiss, there’s a sudden pressure over my nose. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe—!
No—no—hkk!
The room starts to spin. My nose remains pinched shut. I try to fight it. I try to struggle, but I’m already slipping away. Before I can stop myself, I swallow. Every last one of my meds passes down my throat. Only then does his grip leave my face, allowing me to collapse in a heap on the floor. The ground pulses in front of my eyes. Both of my hands smack uselessly against it. I lean forwards, retching and coughing. Pierce just stands in front of me, watching my whole pathetic display.
“Good boy.”
I almost see a smirk on his lips. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Black spots continue to dance before my eyes. All of my energy begins to leave me. All I can do is splutter helplessly.
“Y-you…wh-wha…wh-why…nngh…”
“I did it for your own good, kiddo,” my nurse answers simply, all sinister traces now gone from his voice, “You were acting up. That’s not like you at all. You just needed some help, which I gave to you.”
He carefully crouches down to my level. Reaching out a hand, he gives my hair a tiny mocking ruffle. “You’ve been doing so well, you know. Everyone’s been working really hard to help you.”
He smiles at me. “You wouldn’t want to spoil all that hard work by acting up now, would you?”
I wordlessly shake my head. I can’t string a single thought together right now. “Heh, didn’t think so. Just keep on being a good model patient and we’ll have no other problems, right?”
Pierce’s voice starts to fade. The signature enthusiasm returns to his voice. “Have a good night, kiddo! You’ve got another busy day tomorrow~”
That’s the last thing I hear before my head hits the ground.
“Ashley — did you hear — Ashley?”
I return to reality with a jolt. The plastic tubing in my arm reminds me of my ongoing treatment. It flows smoothly through the bag, directly into my bloodstream with a mild sting. Blinking, I turn my head to the side. It doesn’t take me long to notice Dr Voss’s troubled expression.
“H-huh?”
“...were you actually paying attention to anything I just said?”
“No, I um…I-I’m sorry, I…”
I avert my gaze, ashamed. The past couple days have been…not great. Ever since the incident with Pierce — which was apparently all in my head again — things have just gotten worse.
“There’s something distracting you, isn’t there?”
“I-I’m fine, really—”
“You know how much I dislike lies, Ashley.”
My doctor moves a little closer, studying me with concern.
Mind. Over. Matter.
“..o-okay,” I finally admit, “you got me.”
“I thought as much.”
He moves to sit on the edge of the treatment couch, peering down at me without any element of judgement. “Whatever it is, you can tell me, my boy.”
I don’t immediately answer, choosing my words carefully.
“I…I-I think I’m getting worse.”
“In what way?”
“Every way — the thoughts, the brainfog, the prickling, the meds—”
“Wait—slow down, Ashley. What about the medication is making you worse?”
His frown deepens. “Are the side effects getting too much for you?”
Do I tell him? Or will he just get mad at me?
I flex my fingers, breaking through the negative thought-stream.
“...I just don’t think they’re helping me anymore,” I admit quietly, “They just mess up my head even more. That’s why I’ve been…well, not really taking them properly, ever since I found that note and—”
“What note?” the doctor interrupts, sitting up a little straighter, “What did it say?”
I wrap my arms around myself for comfort.
“I-I don’t know who wrote it, but it told me to…to not take my meds.”
My breathing quicks. I rest my chin on top of my knees, hugging myself even tighter. “A-and Pierce — my nurse — when I said no, he forced them down my throat and—”
“Wait—Dean did that?” he repeats, leaning forwards, “That’s…quite a troubling accusation, Ashley.”
“That’s what the head nurse said when I told her. As if I’d just made it up or something.”
“But Ashley—”
“That’s what happened,” I insist, blinking back tears, “I swear I’m not lying, Dr Voss.”
“I know,” he reassures me, “and I know you well enough by now to know you would never simply make up anything of this nature, or severity.”
He clicks his pen thoughtfully. “Have you spoken with Dean since then?”
“...only this morning,” I mumble, “It was the first time I’ve seen him since the other night. I…kinda lashed out at him about it and he got pretty upset. Then that—that just made me question it again, like—like I don’t know what’s what anymore or—!”
I gasp a little, my chest tightening with panic.
“Deep breaths, Ashley,” Dr Voss advises me firmly, “Just settle down for a minute, alright?”
I try to follow his instructions, sucking in as deep a breath as I can. “Good boy. First — the note. I have no idea who put it in your room, but its message was clearly a harmful one. The medicines you are on are supposed to help you. It’s very important that you do take them, because if you don’t comply with your treatment, then how can you expect to get better?”
His voice is calm, but I know he must be at least a little disappointed in me. “If anything, the reason you are feeling worse is actually because you are not taking the medication, rather than as a result of it.”
He tilts his head. “If I may ask, how have you been concealing them?”
“... flushing them down the toilet,” I admit quietly, “The weekend nurses weren’t the most thorough in their checks.”
“I see.”
At his semi-understanding response, I try to blink the tears from my eyes. “And then that leads us to the second point — this whole incident with Dean. I do think the fact that you’ve been skipping your medications hasn’t helped her, especially when fact and fiction blur together.”
Dr Voss sends me a sympathetic look. “Of course I will investigate it, but I am sure it was just a misunderstanding, alright? Our nurses are professionally trained by a strict code of conduct. None of them would ever handle a situation like that.”
My stomach twists painfully.
See? All in your head again. Just as they said—
“But I do wish you had told me about this sooner,” he emphasises, “Of course you’re going to be suffering if you’re not complying with your medication.”
He clasps his hands together. “And you’ve been doing so well with your treatment plan up until now — but the only way that you will continue to make progress is to remain compliant with it. We can only do so much for you, Ashley — you have to do your own bit towards your recovery as well.”
“...I know.”
“Then we need to make sure that we change things, don’t we?” he asks, sending me a small smile, “We can make you better — that’s what you still want, isn’t it?”
“M-mhmm…”
“Of course you do — and we want that too, so let’s all do our bit to help each other out, alright?”
His voice is unwavering with determination. I feel myself tearing up again.
You’re never going to be fixed. You’re unfixable.
“Yes, Dr Voss.”
I fall silent after that. I keep my head pressed against my knees, waiting until I can finally be released. The thoughts continue to rage. The prickles start to spread. I try to ignore all of the signs, deliberately counting each of my breaths.
Mind. Over. Matter — Mind. Over. Matter.
The infusion takes forever to flush through. As soon as it’s finished, they remove the line and call the nurses to take me back to my room. Tats and Pierce arrive to collect me. I still avoid looking at the latter as they escort me back to Poplar Ward. Dr Voss’s last words are muffled and disconnected. I don’t even hear him properly. I just keep my gaze to the ground and keep putting one foot in front of the other until we’re back at my room.
“Here we are,” Tats states, guiding me back inside. “We’ll be back shortly with your meds before lunch time. Anything we can get for you, kiddo?”
“...no. I’m good.”
As the two of them turn away, I suddenly change my mind. “Wait, Pierce, I…”
I pause for a moment, meeting his questioning blue eyes. “I-I’m sorry for lashing out at you earlier about…y-you know.”
“Hey, it’s okay. Just a misunderstanding, right?”
He shoots me a small smile with an unoffended thumbs up. “I’m glad you see that now, kiddo. You know we’d never do anything to hurt you, don’t you?”
“...mhmm.”
Satisfied, both of them leave me alone. Exhausted, I drop down onto my bed. With no other distractions, the thoughts begin to amplify.
Stop being so friggin’ paranoid! You’re only doing this to yourself! It’s your fault, no one else’s.
I clench my teeth. My hands wrap around my arms as I try to focus on my breathing again. Naturally, that doesn’t stop the self-hatred spiral blaring through my head.
And look, they haven’t called — again. No one cares about you. No one loves you. Why would they? You’re just a waste of space. Lashing out at the people trying to help you. That’s the only thing you’re good at.
The faces from my photos — my family and friends — all leer back at me.
“What’s wrong with you?!”
Aunt June’s tearful cry tears through my mind. I feel my breathing picking up. Shame threatens to engulf me.
You were doing so well up until now. Why do you have to ruin everything? You — stupid — stupid — freak!
Warmth spills out from under my nails. I rake them down my arms, again and again, as if that will somehow control the volume, or soothe the internal pain—
Why even bother? You’ll never fit in again, no matter what you do.
“Nngh!”
The prickles return. They burn fiercely in my hands
No, no no — not now, not now, go away — go away!
My heart races in panic. Tears spill over my cheeks. I dig my rough nails even deeper into my flesh, trying to make them stop. I’m barely even aware of the superficial sting of air against my exposed skin.
Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real—nngh!
I curl up into a ball driving my hands against my head in a desperate attempt to block it all out. In my desperation, I remember Dr Voss’s lessons and try to fight back.
“Nngh — I-I’m a good person,” I whisper hurriedly,, “I’m loved. I’m safe. Just — just take the meds. Be good. No tricks. No setbacks. I-I’m going to be fine. Everything will be fine—”
Liar.
At that terrifying thought, I dissolve into a bawling mess.
I don’t know how long it takes until the thoughts finally go away. All I know is that the meds provide blissful relief. Whatever they had ended up giving me helped quieten them all down, just like that.
Of course I feel better after my meds. Just like he said I would. He’s always right.
My eyelids are especially heavy. I am mentally and physically drained. Even the room has an odd glaze to it, the lights being especially shiny. I lie flat on my back, holding Nezzy to my chest. My arms still sting slightly from the antiseptic solution, the cuts now dressed in fresh bandaids. Tats helped to clean me up after my…episode. He also made a point of removing anything sharp from my room that I could use to further hurt myself.
Can’t be too careful, I guess.
Exhausted, I stare up at the ceiling. I soon occupy myself with counting the number of coloured flecks I can see, just for something to do whilst I have zero energy. I’ve hit fifty–six by the time my eyes start to drift closed.
Fifty seven — fifty eight — fifty…nine…
Beep
Wha…door?
I peel my eyes open at the unexpected sound, fighting the heavy feeling. The grogginess gradually fades when I realise that I don’t recognise the person in my doorway.
“Wh-who are—”
“Hush.”
The familiar accent makes my eyes widen.
Wait...Dr Slade? What—what is he doing in my—huh?
I watch in complete confusion as my neighbour wordlessly enters my room. Without even looking at me, he strides towards my desk, snatches up the decorative owl plush toy sitting in the corner, randomly tosses it on the ground…and stomps down on its head — several times.
That makes me more alert.
“What the—what are you doing?!” I hiss, very concerned about his behaviour right now.
Definitely not ringing any alarm bells—
“There, cameras all taken care of,” he announces casually, completely ignoring my gaping expression, “We don’t want to leave any evidence behind.”
He kicks the poor thing away, its head now mangled beyond repair. After rolling his shoulders a little, he finally has the decency — after breaking into my room — to meet my bewildered gaze. That’s when it occurs to me that this is technically our first time meeting face-to-face.
So this is my ‘totally sane’ neighbour, huh?
I’m…not quite sure how I was expecting him to look, but overall he looks oddly…normal? His messy waves of dark hair, scraped back bangs and thick slanted eyebrows are the first features that catch my eye. Following that is his long narrow nose and a pair of almond brown eyes that blaze with determination. They particularly stand out amongst his fair complexion, as well as his own oversized white uniform, practically identical to my own. As our eyes meet, I also feel a sense of…something? I’m not sure whether it’s compassion, or care…but it’s definitely something positive.
Not that any of it justifies this current crazy stunt.
“...Dr Slade,” I start slowly, keeping my voice as even as possible, “How did you just get into my room?”
“Oh easily — with this thing.”
He holds a thin object up to the light. Even in my current state, I recognise it instantly.
“That card—you stole that from one of the nurses?!”
“I prefer to think of it as borrowing,” he replies, tucking it into his pants, “Not that it matters. We need to go, now.”
“Go? What are you—hey, wait!”
I back up against the headrest as he approaches me, staring back at him in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean us, lad — we need to leave. I am not staying here another day when my friends are still at Clancy’s mercy and this could be our only chance to—”
“You don’t get it, Dr Slade. I-I’m sorry, but we—we can’t just leave here. Not until we’re well enough. I-I know you’re scared, but…”
I trail off as he stares back at me. Helplessness fills his eyes as he takes in my skinny form.
“...you really don’t have a clue, do you?” he mutters, “They’ve brainwashed you that much…”
He shakes his head. I can only gawp back at him, unnerved.
What does he mean by—
“I’m sorry lad, but leaving you here isn’t an option. I’m not letting that maniac hurt you again, so you’re coming with me, no matter what.”
His tone suggests I don’t have a choice in the matter. I gulp, suddenly very uneasy.
Annnd there go the alarm bells again—wait, alarm!
My eyes fall on the little red buzzer on my bedside table. Dr Slade catches me looking at exactly the same time. A firm expression sweeps across his face.
“Ash,” he warns, taking a step closer, “Don’t do it.”
I glance at the buzzer, then the desperation blazing in his eyes. I swallow, making up my mind.
Sorry, Dr Slade.
I lunge for the button — except I’m not fast enough. My neighbour beats me to it.
“Let go!”
We both scrabble for the buzzer. His fingers close around it, victorious, pulling it right out of my hands — which is when I switch to Plan B.
“Help! HELP ME! HEL—mmgh!”
He moves a lot faster than I had expected. My open struggles against him are…completely useless. I’m suddenly a rag-doll, unable to properly aim my frantic kicks. He acts as if he’s barely affected by it, pinning me against his chest with ease. His other hand presses tightly over my mouth as he holds me close. Although tight, his grip isn’t painful.
“Shhh, shhh!” he hisses against my ear, “Just calm down, lad. Keep yer voice down for one—”
“Nmmgh MMGH!”
“Lad, I’m not going to hurt you! I promise! That’s the last thing I want to do, I swear!”
I toss my head about feebly, attempting to pull my wrists free to yank at the hand covering my mouth.
The nurses—where are the nurses?! They should be—
“Ash please!”
My cries fall silent. Maybe it’s the desperation, or the sincerity, or the genuine sense of fear in his voice. Whatever it is…it works. With a stunned gasp, I stop screaming. My limbs flop against my sides.
What is he—?!
“Thank you — look, I just…I need you not to scream...just for a minute, arite? I want you to listen to me — very carefully.”
Whimpering faintly against his hand, I force my head to nod. His grip on my mouth loosens a little, but I still don’t try to scream.
Ticking off the crazy guy next door is probably not a good idea!
“I need you…to trust me,” he starts, speaking in a hushed tone, “I know you don’t believe me. I know you’re scared of me—”
You’re not exactly helping right now!
“—but I haven’t told you a single lie since I got here. This place is not what you think it is. You think you’re the problem, but you’re not. He’s the one that has told you that. He’s the one that has made you believe that.”
Dr Slade takes a deep breath. I remain unresisting, listening with wide eyes. “They keep saying you’re safe here — but you’re not. None of us are. That’s why we need to get out now. So we can tell everyone about this place and save all the other innocent people trapped here as well.”
I give my head a small shake. My neighbour sighs. “Ah know. It’s hard to take in — but think about it, lad. Haven’t you noticed anything strange at all, anything that might suggest something bigger is going on here?”
…I know he’s deluded, but I can’t deny that last statement entirely.
The hallucinations. Krissy’s warning. The meds. Pierce’s ‘attack’ — but that’s all just—!
“I don’t have time to go into it all now, but I promise I’ll explain it later, arite? Right now, this is our best chance to make a move. I’ve got the card, which will get us past all of the doors, out of the ward and out of this bloody institute.”
But I’m not ready — I still need the treatment, don’t I?
“I just…I just want what’s best for you, lad.”
His words…surprise me. They’re exactly the same words that Dr Voss had told me. What they had all said — but something feels different about the way Dr Slade says it.
He…means it. As deluded as he is, he really does care about me—
“And if it comes to the worst outcome, then it was all my idea and I took you against your will. All you need to do is follow my lead and we’ll be out of here before you know it, arite?”
I don’t reply to him immediately. My heart thumps against my ribs as I consider his paranoid words. Somehow, I know he won’t hurt me, but playing into his delusions might do more harm than good.
But what if he has a point? What if all of this has been…a lie?
“Okay. I’m going to take my hand away now. No screaming. No running off. No dangerous risks, arite?”
Logically, I should start screaming for the nurses as soon as we get outside, but something else tells me…maybe I shouldn’t. Something in my gut. This…this feeling. I can’t even describe it — but right now, it’s giving me one clear instruction.
Trust him.
Still heavily conflicted, I reluctantly incline my head. His hand instantly leaves my mouth and I take a grateful gasp of air.
“W-we’re going to get in so much trouble,” I almost whisper, half-hugging myself, “Dr Slade, this is a really bad idea. I don’t want you to—”
“I already told you — don’t worry about me.”
With my ‘cooperation’, he seems to visibly relax. “I’ll give you one minute. Grab only what you can carry. After that, we’re getting out of here.”
He’s not joking around with this…
The clock is ticking. I grab my satchel from my closet and tear a few precious photos from the wall. My book and Nezzy follow, stuffed safely inside the bag before I zip it up. In the meantime, Dr Slade decides to check out the bathroom, for some random reason.
“Come over here when you’re done.”
Best not get on his bad side.
Slinging my satchel across my body, I shuffle over to join him, surprisingly wobbly on my legs. He meets my gaze with a serious frown.
“One more thing. Did you take your lunchtime meds?”
“Y-yeah?” I answer uneasily, “Why?”
“...I’m so sorry for this, lad.”
I don’t notice the item behind his back until it’s too late. The same item — my own toothbrush — is suddenly forced down my throat, instantly triggering my gag reflex with a rush and a roar. Acid burns my tongue. I squeeze my eyes closed, hot tears spilling down my cheeks. The stench only makes me throw up even more.
“Nngh…gnngha…”
“Shhh, that’s it. That’s it. It’s all out. You’re okay.”
He rubs my back almost soothingly. Even as I sit there — arms trembling and still gagging from the wretched taste in my mouth — my surroundings are already starting to feel…different. The fog is lifting. Everything around me is suddenly clearer. My mind feels sharper. I have…energy again.
But...how? I don’t...no way—!
“Here, take some sips of this. It’ll help your throat.”
Part of me wants to slap it out of his hand, but even I can’t deny the sudden improvement in my mental clarity. Accepting the plastic cup, I gratefully swig it off, swill out my mouth and spit it out into the toilet bowl. “I bet you feel better already, don’t you?”
“...actually, yes,” I admit shakily, pulling myself up again, “H-how did you know?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he dismisses, helping me to my feet, “Do you still think I’m making all of this up?”
I can’t bring myself to answer him just yet. If I do, it means questioning everything else that I’ve been told. My head can’t handle that right now. One thing at a time.
“...h-how far do we have to go?”
“Hopefully not too far — but first we need to get off this ward.”
He nudges me towards the door. “Let’s go. You should have a much clearer head now.”
Without a word, I follow after my neighbour. He guides me by the hand out of my room, his other carrying the ID card. Checking left and right, he pulls me after him, out into the corridor.
“Arite, we need to move quickly, but quietly. If someone passes by, we dip out of sight until they’re gone, arite?”
“O-okay.”
“Good lad. Now follow me.”
Against my better judgement, I do. I know I could easily scream for help right now, but the last few minutes have definitely given me a new…perspective on things. Instead, I stay close to his side, watching warily for any dangers. Our impromptu-stealth mission takes us the longer way around the ward, where we’re less likely to be seen. Dr Slade’s grip on my hand tightens as we almost run into a group of nurses at their assigned posts. We duck behind walls. We’re forced to backtrack more than a few times. Adrenaline seeps through me with every step we take. From my neighbour’s own tense posture, it’s clear I’m not the only one who’s nervous.
“There are so many nurses,” I breathe, “You still think we’ll make it to the doors?”
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” he mutters, “Nice and quiet now. It looks like they’re moving away.”
Sure enough, the nurses begin to filter off in different directions around us. Even after that, we continue to stay low. Cautiously, we begin making our way past the kitchen. I’m as confused as ever, my mind whirring with unanswered questions as we keep pressing towards the ward entrance.
“Wait—get down!”
He pulls me with him to the ground, half-shielding my fall. Thinking fast, both of us scramble behind the thankfully unoccupied front desk as Tats and Pierce enter the ward again. I cover my mouth to muffle a startled cry, picking out a small piece of their conversation as they pass.
“—the sooner we take him to get prepped for the extraction, the sooner we can go on break.”
“Fine, let’s just get this over with. Hopefully the drugs have kicked in by now. The kid should be too out of it to put up much of a—”
Their conversation fades with them as they disappear down the corridor. I feel my insides twisting uncomfortably at their…particular choice of words.
“Those are your nurses aren’t they?”
“Y-yeah,” I murmur, “uh, what did they mean by…extraction?”
Dr Slade just grits his teeth.
“...let’s not stick around to find out.”
Shuddering, I hurriedly crawl out from under the desk. Unfortunately, there are no more blind spots to hide behind between that and the door — and it isn’t long until Pierce’s distant shouts alert the rest of the ward.
Now they know I’m missing!
“Bloody hell!”
My neighbour hisses, shoving me forwards. “Ash, the doors — get to the doors!”
The panic alarm from my room begins to blare. Footsteps ring out from all directions, now hurried and frantic. My chest tightens, fully aware that soon everyone will be looking specifically for me—
“There!”
The ID card swipes across the scanner’s surface. It registers with a cheerful beep. The doors yawn open. Our way out becomes clear—
“Hey—down here! He’s down here! By the entrance! Hurry!”
I spin around, instantly on edge at the panicked yells. Even more voices holler after us.
“There! Don’t let them get away! Stop them!”
I knew this was a bad idea—!
“Oh for the love of—run, lad! Run!”
My neighbour drags me through the half-open doors. I sprint as fast as I can to keep up with him, panting. More shouts soon join the chorus behind us.
“Call security! Now!”
“D-Dr Slade, they’re—!”
“Ah know — this way!”
My legs stumble after him. Colours flash before our eyes. The Rec Area whizzes by. So does the canteen. Blurred figures demand us to stop. Hands try to grab us—
“Get out of our way!”
Dr Slade barges past multiple unarmed bystanders, yanking me along with him.
“Block off the stairs! Cut ‘em off!”
I hear him curse under his breath. He never lets go of my hand, not even once.
“Wh-where are we going?!” I demand fearfully.
“Up or down — whichever is easiest to—”
The screeching alarms drown out his words. One by one, the doors around us suddenly swing shut, locking instantly on contact.
What the—?!
“Enhanced security measures,” my companion growls, taking note of every direction, “They’re trying to box us in—we need to hide!”
“But where?!” I cry, daring a glance over my shoulder, “All the doors are—!”
“Anywhere, lad! Just—just follow me! Quickly!”
There’s no time to argue. I get a flash of the uniforms some way behind us. They’ll be on us soon.
Do as he says.
Ignoring the burning in my chest, I hurry alongside my fellow patient. His eyes frantically scan the doors. Growing panic enters his voice.
“No — no — definitely no — ah!”
He slams the ID card on the next available scanner.
Beep
“Finally — in here!"
Both of us squeeze through the gap, forcing ourselves inside the small room. As I sink against the wall breathlessly, Dr Slade slams the door behind us. Breathing heavily, he lowers himself to the ground next to me. The screeching and yelling is at least muffled by the door of our temporary sanctuary.
Thank God—
“Arite. We should be — safe here — for a wee bit.”
He runs a hand through his messy hair, taking a quick glance around. “Looks like we — found a storeroom. We’ll just — stay here for now, until it’s safe to go out again.”
“U-uhuh…”
Closing my eyes, I force myself to try and calm down.
Deep breath in — hold — and out. In — hold — and out.
“S-so,” I start, once I can properly talk again, “where do we go from here?”
“If we can make it out of this room, then we have two choices: up to the roof or down towards the lower levels.”
Thankfully we both have the sense to keep our voices hushed. “The latter seems more doable — and if they’re blocking off the stairs, then that just leaves us the elevator.”
“S-sounds risky.”
“It is, but we don’t have a choice — now keep quiet, I can hear them on the other side.”
Silently nodding, I press further back into the wall. Staying as still as a statue, we both listen to the sound of further footsteps and barking orders. The search for us is still very much underway. In an attempt to distract myself, I briefly take in the rows of labelled draws and cabinets around us. They probably hold a wide range of supplies and medical equipment. Sadly, most of them have a keyhole somewhere, no doubt requiring a member of staff to access them. However, I do notice one thing that might give us another option.
“Dr Slade,” I ask, as soon as the noises outside have died down again, “do you think we could reach that air vent?”
He squints for a moment, clearly not overly impressed at my suggestion.
“Nice try, but I don’t think we’ll be getting through that old thing anytime soon.”
“...but it always works for the heroes in the movies?”
“Aye — and we’re not in one lad,” he points out, “Look at it — do you really think that both of us would be able to squeeze through there? The movie air vents are always unrealistically oversized and miraculously soundproofed for plot convenience — and even if we could squeeze through, there’s bound to be all kinds of nasty things in there. That’s the part they never show you.”
Just like that, my hopes are dashed yet again.
“...so basically, don’t believe everything you see in the movies?” I summarise, wincing.
“Exactly, A mouse might be able to pass through just fine, but you and I? We wouldn’t stand a chance.”
So much for that idea—ack!
My hands fly to my neck. Something zaps across my throat. I close my fingers over it with a harsh cry. The skin feels warm, as well as surprisingly sore. Almost like…a burn.
“Gah!”
Dr Slade soon copies me, clutching at the choker around his own neck. I don’t know if it’s my imagination, but I can see literal blue sparks leaping off of one of the parts.
The chokers—what are they—agh!
Another painful jolt rushes through me. Eyes widening, I grab at my own choker, hooking my fingers between the skin and the metal. Electricity pulses through it, stinging me.
“Nngh—the collars—I forgot all about the bloody—AGH!”
He leans against the wall, clenching his teeth. I notice the subtle jerking of his limbs as the shocks pass through him. Immediately there’s a sudden rush of footsteps towards the storeroom. My face pales.
There is no way they didn’t hear that!
“D-Dr Slade! What’s happening?! How do we get these off of—NNGHA!”
The next shock tears through me. I fall onto my side, unable to control the twitching my own body. It’s enough to almost take my breath away. My own shrieks ring in my ears as I scrabble at the wretched thing, desperate to get it off.
What is this—why is it—why—?!
“Nngh—lad! Hold on, just — nngh — just hold on!”
I can just about see him, directly across from me. His own grimace doesn’t bode well. Even then — at the sound of my distressed sobs — he still tries to reassure me. “I’m sorry — nngh — I know it hurts but — but we have to get—!”
Beep
Our heads turn towards the door. Dr Slade recovers quicker than me. He valiantly drags himself over to my shaking form, attempting to cover my body.
“Get behind me.”
He bares his teeth at the two figures blocking the open doorway. I feel him tense against me as he addresses them. “Don’t you — nngh — come anywhere near us.”
“Oh we don’t need to.”
With an ugly sneer, the nearest one pulls out a small device from his white coat and taps it against his ear. “This is Tod. Stand down with the shocks. Both patients have been secured. Backup requested to the second floor and inform the doc that—”
“Don’t bother, Tod. I’ll deal with them.”
A familiar face steps forward. Peeking out from behind Dr Slade, I lock eyes with our second captor.
“Dr Simmons?” I stammer hopefully, “Wh-what are you—”
“Hush up, kiddo. Don’t make it worse for yourself.”
His uncharacteristically sharp tone instantly silences me. A choked cry slips free. Sensing my upset, Dr Slade reaches for my hand and squeezes it.
“Oh you’ve got some nerve, lad,” he growls, “and I bloody hope you're proud of yourself!”
“Just doing my job, Slade,” the young man replies, “Sorry, but I really can’t have any of our patients going AWOL behind our backs.”
He turns to his colleague. “Get them up. We won’t be needing any backup.”
The accompanying uniform nods.
“Got it. Hold fire on that backup. We’re okay.”
Taking a step forward he pulls out something from his belt. It looks…frighteningly like a gun. “On your feet. Resist and I’ll shoot.”
That’s not a real gun…is it?
Dr Slade reluctantly turns to me. His eyes fill with a helpless expression. The only positive about any of this is that the alarms outside have finally shut up.
“Just do as he says, lad.”
“B-but—”
“I said up!”
I flinch at the guard’s impatient bark. Squeezing my hand again, my former neighbour helps to guide me to my feet. I try to catch Dr Simmons’ eyes, but he seems to be deliberately ignoring us.
“Get them out of here. I’ll update the doc myself when he’s finished downstairs.”
He pauses for a moment. “Oh and Tod, I’m sorry.”
“What for—”
“This.”
Before either of us can blink, the uniform is staggering against the wall, groaning in pain. Seizing the moment, Dr Slade snatches up his fallen weapon, shoving me further behind him. Barely keeping my balance, I stare back at Tod’s reeling form. One hand clutches his side, the other gropes desperately for his fallen communication device — which is now resting in Dr Simmons’ hands.
“Y-you—what—?!”
His bumbling response is silenced by a sharp fist colliding with his jaw. I can only watch, completely stunned, as the uniform’s head jerks to the side. A last strangled gasp leaves him as collapses to the ground.
...what actually just happened?
“Nothing personal, Tod. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll just be taking—”
“Not so fast!”
The younger doctor’s eyes visibly dilate at the weapon suddenly being thrust in his direction. Dr Slade glares down at him, unbothered by his sudden babbling.
“H-hey, wait up a sec! Just let me explain—”
“Then answer me this — who are you and what do you want?”
The young doctor stops rooting through his colleague’s pockets for a moment. His gaze flickers from my own terrified eyes, to the unwavering frustration on my companion’s face.
“A-alright, alright, I’ll tell you everything—”
“Tod, report. Do you have the patients? Are you sure no backup’s required?”
Voices crackle out from the device in the blonde’s hand. Dr Slade threateningly clicks the trigger as the young man response—
“Dr Simmons speaking. We almost had them but they got away. Send some uniforms up to the third floor. It looked like they were heading up there. I’ll alert Dr Voss.”
Both of us blink back at him, perplexed by his sudden change.
“...got it. Heading up there now. Keep an eye out.”
The doctor’s shoulders visibly relax in relief.
He’s…not going to turn us in?
“Whew! That was a close call...uh, sorry, explanations right?”
He rubs the back of his neck with a sheepish laugh. Dr Slade doesn’t lower the gun, but the former distrust seems to be clearing from his eyes a little.
“...so you’re not going to call Voss?”
“And let that creepy doc keep on with his unethical ‘treatments’?” Dr Simmons answers, making exaggerated air quotation marks over that last word, “Nah, I think he’s had more than enough time to play with his ‘patients’.”
Dr Slade sighs in relief, but doesn’t back down yet.
“What’s your name, lad?”
“Oh, I’m Dex — Dexter Simmons,” he answers, glancing towards me, “I already know Ash pretty well and you’re Slade, right?”
“Dr Douglas Slade-McLaughlann, actually,” he corrects defensively, “I did not go through decades of medical training for my title to be ignored, thank you very much.”
“Aheh, my bad. Apologies, Doc — and I’m sorry about the whole apprentice-schtick as well. I would have acted sooner, but I had to be careful not to blow my cover too—”
“Wait—so you’re not a doctor?” I interrupt, struggling to process.
“Actually I am — three years fresh outta med school. Still got a long way to go.”
He starts rooting through the guard’s pockets again. “But that’s only a part of it, I guess—”
“So you were working undercover this whole time?” the older doctor asks, finally beginning to lower his weapon, “Why?”
Dr Simmons — Dex — lowers his voice.
“I’ve been trying to gather as much inside intel as possible on Pembrooke.”
Pembrooke? What’s—
“There've been a lot of shady stories about their facilities lately, which is where I come in. It’s been one heck of a mission so far, not really helped by the fact I’ve been running solo.”
An awkward smile flickers across his face. “Thinking back, I probably should’ve asked Benji or Eli for a hand since it has been some time since I did actual hero-work of this scale, but—”
“Wait—are you saying you’re a...?”
Dex hesitates for a moment.
“...sorta. It’s uh, a long story — but anyway, no time for chit-chat, we need to get you out of those—aha!”
He finally pulls back, triumphantly holding what looks like a small computer chip between his thumb and index finger. “Alright, you should have full use of your powers again in just a second so—”
“Wait—what powers?” I interrupt, frowning, “What are you talking about?”
I’ve heard enough of this from Dr Slade, but now Dr Simmons too?!
“...he doesn’t know, does he?”
Dex shares an awkward glance with my former neighbour. He only responds with a small shake of the head.
“Know what?” I ask, nerves spiking in my stomach, “Dr Simmons?”
He doesn’t reply straight away, wincing a little.
“...okay. How do I put this in the least mind-blowing way possible?”
I stare back at him with a raised eyebrow as he continues. “There’s really no easy way to say this. You’re uh…you’re not what you think you are, kiddo.”
What is he getting at?
“Then...what am I?”
Taking a deep breath, Dex looks me straight in the eyes.
“...a super.”
Ending on a wee bit of a cliffhanger ;) Thank you so much for taking the time to come this far to read and support my writing, it really means a lot to me and I'm so grateful for your time. I'm hoping to get back to my weekly update schedule although I am pretty wiped out after starting back at work again so I'll do my best! See you in the next chapter! Things are finally starting to get more juicy now for all you lovers of med-whump out there ;)
Have a wonderful weekend and take care of yourselves! See you soon and sending best wishes! xx
Home sweet home…sort of. Fetch was on bedrest, and Lavender stuck around to make sure he did, which meant she was in charge. Erick thought she was enjoying it way too much, so he preferred to just stay out of her way, but he couldn’t just abandon Fetch either, so he just had to put up with her a little longer.
Fortunately she was mostly paying attention to Fetch, and not so much to Erick, even after their initial scuffle and him spending most of the trip home in the trunk.
In fact, even though she took on most of Fetch’s care, Lavender also carried her own weight in other housework, though it helped that they rarely had to cook since Ethel kept bringing up meals.
They’d told her that Fetch had gotten into a car accident, which suited most of his injuries, so she didn’t suspect a thing. Lavender was good at keeping up appearances, playing the caring girlfriend whenever Ethel was over.
“You’re such a sweet girl, Lavender,” she said while having a cup of coffee after bringing up more food, “I wasn’t sure what to think when we first met, but I can see now you’re going to make Chase very happy.”
Erick snorted by the sink as he was catching up on some dishes, unsuccessfully masking it with a cough, but Lavender ignored him, quickly replying to Ethel to keep her distracted.
“It’s the least I can do, really. He makes me very happy too~” she said.
“Pffft!”
“Erick! Did you remember to take out the trash, hun?” Lavender said, before his amusement would blow their cover.
“Ahem… Yeah, I’m getting to that,” Erick said, drying his hands and leaving the dishes to soak while he did the trash.
“Teenagers, huh?” Ethel said, nudging Lavender after the boy had gone outside.
“He’s not that bad,” Lavender said, “but he has his moments.” She finished her coffee and got up to finish the dishes for him.
“When teenagers rebel they’re either bored or overwhelmed,” Ethel said, finishing her own coffee, “either way you can send him down to me and I’ll give him something to do to help calm down.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lavender said, rolling her eyes a bit while she had her back turned.
As if she couldn’t handle a teenager.
“Well, I best get going and leave you two lovebirds be,” Ethel said with a chuckle, getting up as well, “no need to walk me out, I know my way around.”
“Sure, be careful on the stairs,” Lavender said.
“Thank you, dear,” Ethel said, before pausing by the bedroom door, “how’s the soup, dear?”
“Amazing, I feel better already,” Fetch replied obligatorily.
“Good, make sure to get some rest in, and I’ll see you tomorrow,” Ethel said, “I’ll make you some of that beef stew you like.”
“I’m gonna put on weight at this rate,” Fetch said, but his landlady just chuckled before heading back to her own apartment, passing Erick as he was on his way back in. As he entered the kitchen again, Lavender ambushed him with a whack on the back of his head.
“Ow! Hey!”
“You gotta be more careful, dumbass,” Lavender said.
“I’m sorry, it was just really funny,” Erick said, “I’ve heard nothing but cursing from Fetch’s part.”
“That’s because he doesn’t know how to be grateful,” Lavender said, “here, give him some coffee, you’ll see.”
She poured the last bit into Fetch’s favourite mug and handed it to Erick, though she pulled him back before he could walk off, searching his pockets and pulling out a small pack of cigarettes.
“Where do you keep getting these? I thought we agreed no smoking until he stops coughing,” she said, tossing the pack in the drawer with earlier confiscated contraband.
“He said he’d kill me,” Erick said.
“Just poke him in the ribs, stop being such a wuss,” Lavender said, giving him another whack.
“Ow! Stop that!”
“Don’t sass me, sass him!”
However, Erick decided to take it easy around Fetch, feeling like he deserved a break from Lavender’s antics, though he was in a particularly foul mood regardless without his cigarettes, so Erick decided to just try and avoid him until he was allowed to smoke again.
Lavender didn’t seem to mind as she drew plenty of entertainment from tormenting Fetch while he was weak, though she still made sure he took his antibiotics and got plenty of rest. She was partially responsible for his foul mood, since he never knew what kind of treatment he would get whenever she walked into his room.
Today (three days after arriving home), however, seemed to bring him actual rest, since Lavender had gone out to the store and Erick was…actually Fetch had no idea what the teen was up to, but he was quiet so he could nap in peace.
When Lavender returned, she found Erick staring at his phone while sitting at the kitchen table. Though it was typical teenage behaviour, she knew he happened to be one of the rare ones who wasn’t addicted to his screen, so it was a bit unusual for him. She caught a glimpse of his screen and realised he was staring at a picture of a girl.
“Oh, she’s cute.”
Erick jumped a bit, quickly turning his phone off and putting it screen-down on the table. Lavender smirked at his reaction.
“Oh man, she must be really cute, huh~?” she said, “who is she? Is she why you were so opposed to the idea of Jaime being your girlfriend? Are you secretly a lil player?”
“Oh my god shut up, we just met!” Erick said.
“Then why do you have a picture of her~?”
“She gave me her number and took a selfie for the contact picture,” Erick said, “she works for Mr Rana on the housekeeping staff.”
“When did she give you her number?” Lavender asked.
“The morning we left?”
“Did you text or call her yet?”
“No— Why do you care?”
“My dude,” Lavender said, grabbing his shoulders, “a cute girl gave you her number and a picture and you didn’t text her back the very same day?”
“It’s not that big a deal?” Erick said.
Lavender shook him.
“How dense can you be? She’s clearly into you!”
“We only met twice?”
“It’s called a crush!”
“Stop shaking me!”
“Then stop being a dumbass!”
She finally let go of him, but only to pick up his phone and hand it to him.
“Text her,” she said.
“I-I was going to…yesterday,” Erick said, “but I don’t know what to say…I thought it would be nice to have someone normal to talk to, but I have nothing normal to talk about.”
“It’s okay to tell her you’re not sure what to talk about,” Lavender said, “it’s better than radio silence.”
“...won’t she think I’m awkward?”
“Trust me, she’s worried about the exact same thing,” Lavender said, “go brighten her day and text her.”
“Alright, alright— Stop looking at my screen,” Erick said, selecting Lucy’s number to text her.
Lavender smirked teasingly, but she had other plans today, grabbing the bag she just brought in and heading into the bathroom to prepare a couple things, before checking on Fetch.
He woke up as she walked in, carrying a toilet bag and a bowl of hot water, as well as a towel over her shoulder. Nothing too suspicious, save for the shit-eating grin on her face.
“Oh fuck, now what?” Fetch said, trying to sit up.
“Stay down,” Lavender said, “don’t you trust me~?”
“Not with that look on your face.”
“Oh don’t be so dramatic,” Lavender said, putting the items on the nightstand and grabbing the towel, lifting his head to put it over his pillow, before moving to sit over him.
“What the fuck are you up to now, Rhodes?” Fetch growled.
“You need a shave,” Lavender said.
Fetch reached up to scratch the rough stubble that had grown out on his face.
“I thought you said you liked the look?”
“I was talking about the blood,” Lavender said, brushing the freshly healed cut under his eye, “how’d that happen anyway?”
“I don’t fucking know, I think when that moron tried to cut tape from my face with a blunt pocket knife.”
“I know exactly which one you mean,” Lavender said, “but don’t worry, you know knives are my forte~ Hold still now, if you don’t want me to cut you.”
She put a hand under his chin, tilting his head back, while with her other hand she pulled a razor from the toilet bag. Except it wasn’t Fetch’s usual razor, but a vintage razor with a wooden handle. The blade glinted in the light as she flicked it open.
“Hold up,” Fetch said, but Lavender pushed his head back in position.
“I said hold still,” she said.
He growled a bit, but held still. After all, she put the knife away again, and instead grabbed a smaller towel that had been soaking in the hot water. She squeezed most of the water out, before wrapping it around his face, keeping his nose clear.
“Old-fashioned…” he mumbled from underneath the towel.
“Hush, just let it happen,” Lavender said, patting the top of his head before letting him soak underneath the towel for a good few minutes. Then she grabbed the shaving cream, spreading it over his stubble after removing the towel, before using it to wipe her hands. Then she picked up the razor again.
“Hold still~” she reminded him, before beginning to rake the razor sharp blade over his face and throat. Dangerously close to his artery, yet not a single cut.
Actually, he was surprised she knew any of this at all, but he couldn’t ask where she had learned, certain she would cut him if he moved. There was something relaxing about it, yet he couldn’t relax, knowing very well she was capable and possibly willing to cut him whenever. But then, just like that there was a soft clunk as she put the razor on the nightstand, soaking the towel in the now lukewarm water and using it to clean him up.
“Oh, missed a spot,” she said, picking the razor back up.
“It happens.”
“Shut.”
She scraped off the last couple of hairs, before suddenly nicking his skin.
“Hey— I knew it!”
“You like it,” Lavender said, holding up the knife so he could see his own blood, “don’t lie, Chase~”
“Damn you…”
She brushed her thumb over the fresh cut, smearing the blood over his cheek and pushed it towards his mouth so he could have a taste.
“Rhodes…” he growled.
“Yes, Chase~?”
She stopped, smirking expectantly at him. Fetch glared back, knowing what she wanted.
“Lavender…”
She chuckled. She had him right where she wanted him. She grabbed a hold of his jaw and pressed a kiss on his lips. He kissed back, reaching up to touch her face, but she pulled away already as she sat up.
“There, that’s a much better look on you,” she said.
Fetch blinked.
“That’s all?” he asked.
“Rest and recovery, remember?” Lavender said, getting off of him and beginning to clean up.
“Oh come on! You’re really gonna leave me hanging?” Fetch said, sitting up a bit, with some effort.
“No rush,” Lavender said, “you’re gonna see plenty of me while you still owe me money~”
“For fuck’s sake…at least let me have a smoke instead.”
“No.”
“Lavender!”
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