Chapter 1 prologue
He was waiting. He was always waiting: Waiting for the lights to be turned on, waiting for the heavy footsteps that followed, waiting for the hatch in the door to slide open and a tray to be slid in, waiting for the door to the bathroom to unlock, waiting for lunch and dinner, waiting for the men in grey, waiting for their probing, needles and questions, waiting for them to leave again and finally waiting for the lights to be turned off again and to go to sleep.
He hated waiting and he especially hated the men in grey. The men in grey where always completely covered, there hoods covering their faces and their gloves covering their hands. They never spoke, not to him and not to each other. He sometimes saw them make small hand gestures or even shake their head to their companions but even those were rare.
They where his only contact with anything outside his room. They were the only reason he could think there was anything beyond the things around him, they came from outside. From beyond the heavy steel door that separated him from there world.
They often hurt him. Their needles sucked his blood and their gloved hands left painful bruises where they touched him and their strange contraptions left him sore, but no matter what they did to him, no matter how much he hurt he would always be fine again in the morning. The bruises and wounds would have disappeared and he would feel strangely happy the moment he woke up.
One time the hooded men accidentally left a feather in his room. He quickly went to pick up the feather and his hands softly stroke it feeling awe for the softness it possessed.
He was completely focused upon the feather wondering what created such a strange thing. He didn't hear the door slide open and he didn't notice one of the grey men walking in until he pointed his stick at the feather and it turned into ashes before his eyes.