TW: medical abuse, ptsd
The TV droned endlessly on, murmuring vapid unintelligible nonsense. Iridescent closed eir eyes to its glare. E knew e should go to bed, instead of laying on the couch half-watching reality tv, but e didn’t. Behind eir closed eyes, Iri could still sense the hum of the screen. If e focused just a bit, e could make out what they were saying-
“Elora.”
Iri jumped, turning to face the disapproving desk nurse. “Sorry, I um. What did you say?”
The desk nurse sighed, tapping her pink nails on the plastic desk. “We were discussing your continued stay with us here at Centennial Peaks. Please sign on the dotted line.”
“No, I, um, I shouldn’t...be here,” Iri moved to leave the desk, but eir feet were stuck to the ground.
“Let’s not cause a scene, Elora, we wouldn’t want to have to call security,” the desk nurse said, two large men appearing next to her and grabbing Iri’s arms. E struggled for control, trying to use eir powers, blind them, burn their hands, something. Dr. Evans was walking near em holding a needle.
“Don’t be like that Elora, we were making such progress,” He clucked in disapproval. Iri struggled harder. As he stepped closer he inserted the needle into eir arm, hot fire coursing through eir veins with a ferocity that made e cry out.
“NO!” Iri screamed. With a jolt e awakened, now sitting on the Institute’s hard wooden floor. The couch had completely disintegrated beneath em, the TV flitting in and out of service. Through eir hazy vision, Iridescent noticed a person standing by the doorway. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” e rasped.
