That same sentence. Over and over again. Rephrased but the same hidden meaning packed away inside of one little word.
"Don't worry. It's a nice and safe place."
They kept saying that. Kept ramming that word into his head. Even after he got there they refused to stop using that word, those phrases. It made him sick.
They gave him new clothes to wear, white pants and a white shirt. Everything was white. Everything was safe. The nurses always had bright white smiles on their faces. The doctors always had a clipboard in their hands. A white one. The walls were white, the floor was white, the door, the metal bed was even painted white. No sheets. A white pillow, but it couldn't be moved off of the bed.
The floor was cold. There was a slight breeze coming from a hidden air vent. The mirror was across from the door, reflecting the white abyss that surrounded him.
The moved him to sit on the bed. Told him that it was safe to move around. Every day a nurse would come in bearing a small cup of water and a white pill.
The same words. Now locked in place with a promise. He'd take the pill and drink the water in fear that they'd stuff it down his throat if he didn't.
It went on like that for days... weeks. Wake up. White. Nurse with food. Safe. Nurse with pill. Safe. White. Doctor with clipboard. White. Safe. Safe. Safe. Stare. Sleep. Repeat.
"Radien. You have a visitor. His name is Erik. He's safe to talk to."