Anette goes through yet another experimental injection of Joy and has a conversation with a Constable.
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Injection
“So, injecting me with that shit hundreds of times before always yielded the same results. Is this one different from all of those doses or is it going to be the same bloody thing?”
The Doctor fixes a silent glare at the woman as he holds her arm pinned to the arm of the chair with one hand, his other trying to steady a syringe filled with a white liquid as she squirms and shifts. He exhales heavily and gives her a hard look. The lanky male rotates the syringe so she can read the label: “Coconut”.
“Ah, I see. It tastes different so it's bound to have a different effect. Right?”
He rolls his eyes at her sarcastic tone, then finally plunges the tip of the needle into her scarred arm, injecting the Joy into her slowly. Once the contents have been emptied into her arm, he withdraws the needle and rises to his full height as there's a knock on the door.
“Malachi! Anette! Just the people I wanna see!”
Anette's face instantly scrunches in disdain as she hears the all-to-familiar cheery voice of the copper-headed Bobby that steps into the examination room. That white uniform only confirmed who it was, and Anette found herself immediately on edge.
The constable makes his way over to the doctor, reaching up to his ear and adjusting the hearing aid tucked into it. “Mal, you really need to get better at checking on that.”
The doctor gives a short nod, then begins to clean up his workspace as the constable makes his way over to Anette. The woman scoffs and doesn't even grace him with a glance.
“Hello, Troy.”
The constable stands in front of the woman and gazes down at her, pinching her chin between a gloved thumb and finger and tilting her head up. “Lovely day, innit, Anette? I see my brother has fixed you with some of the coconut. How're we feeling?”
Anette smacks his hand away with a snort. “Nauseous as usual. But that could also be because I had the misfortune of seeing your ugly mug.”
Troy's eyes narrow slightly for a moment before he lets out a low laugh. “Ah, Anette, always so lively. But you know, these tests would always be a lot easier if you just worked with us?”
Anette shifts her glare up at him, narrowing her dark eyes at the ginger and scowling. “It’d also be a lot easier if I didn't have to see a degenerate prick every bloody day.”
Troy stares silently at her for a moment of tense silence, his smile completely gone now. He bends down, his hands on his knees and his face inches from hers. He can feel his brother gazing at them silently, his organizing momentarily forgotten.
“Listen, love… I suggest you shut that mouth of yours real quick before I find a way to shut it for you. Understood? Because I'm sure you wouldn't like that.” He reaches out, twirling one of her curls around his finger and giving it a light tug as his voice lowers to an insidious whisper. “So just be a good girl, and-”
Annette glares and she spits in his face, her spit hitting right in his eye. He quickly straightens up and groans, wiping his eye. In a flash of movement, the back of his hand strikes her cheek, making her yelp in pain as he looks to the doctor.
“I think she needs some help calming down, don't you think, dear brother? I think you should get her set up for some electroshock therapy, hm?”
Malachi parts his lips, looking hesitant as his eyes shift between Troy and Anette. He looked uncertain; such treatments were becoming less and less frequent as they were deemed inhumane, and he wasn't sure how comfortable he was with performing it on a Downer woman for defending herself. But before he can really argue, Troy glared at him and aggressively signs a single word.
“NOW.”
With a slight glance of sympathy in Anette's direction, Malachi gathers his things and leaves the room to get the treatment ready. Troy watches him leave, then looks back to Anette with a sneer.
“We'll see how mouthy we're feeling after this.”
Anette simply stares hatefully and defiantly at him, her cheek stinging with pain. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of fear. She never did.