Page 23 of Hell Breaks Loose

They’ve come to find me.

But there’s nothing left of who I was.

They look and look in the shadows, but I’m not there.

My mind eventually protests the torment, drives me back toward consciousness. I fight it. There’s nothing good waiting for me there.

Just misery.

Cold.

Except that when I reach out, hesitantly testing the sensation of wakefulness, I feel a blanket.

A thin mattress.

I’m back in my cell.

The void of my solitary confinement is over.

I barely remember the hours lost in there this time. Almost like the cold from the freezing water seeped in through my skin, replacing my fears, my anger, my hopes with muted resolve.

Acceptance of my situation.

A numbness that smooths over every concern with ambivalence.

Even when I hear voices outside my room, I hardly move.

But my curiosity is piqued when I hear Lonnie bark, “Where the fuck you been? You were supposed to be here yesterday.”

“Yeah, we had to pull the bitch out ’cause we thought she was dead,” Vance adds, snorting.

“I was preoccupied. She’s not my only patient, you know.”

“Fuck that. Marco says get here, you get here.”

The other voice, the one I don’t quite recognize, mumbles something.

“Heh, more likely the doctor was fucking strung out. Couldn’t get out of bed.” Grico is the smartest of the three, the sharpest, but far from witty.

Memories flicker through my head from my first few days here, trying to match the doctor’s voice to his face. Those days were awful, though.

Vague.

But the voice still seems off.

Locks click open before the door creaks and Lonnie peers around at me in the dimness.

“Good. You’re up. Need to make sure you’re not fucked up.”

“Quit yapping and get her into the lab.”

The lab. They’ve used that room to question me. Punish me. And as a makeshift doctor’s office.

It’s the biggest room down here. Versatile, I guess.

It’s also the room with the thickest door. Soundproof walls.

Convenient.

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