I woke once more inside my paralyzed body. So I didn't die. I'm not sure whether I am relieved by this fact or not. It would've been easier to die. I had no idea how long I was unconscious, though I have a feeling that it has been awhile. I can hear soft breathing nearby, and then hands that are . . . I can't explain it. I try for the correct word, and fail. I try again. Gentle? My mind wraps around the word, testing it. No, that can't be right. I have never had gentle hands on me. And yet, the word is fitting as the hands touch me again. Before I can think much more on it, there is a noise in the distance. A door maybe? I can't tell for sure. I hear heavy breathing now. A growl. My pulse spikes and I hear the loud beeping of my heart monitor somewhere nearby.

"Calm down!"

A chastising female voice I am sure I have never heard before. They must have gotten new scientists or doctors. New torturers, I think bitterly. She sounds older.

"Don't tell me to calm down!"

A male voice now. His dual chords are familiar in a way, though I have no basis for thinking this. I must have heard him before . . . it's the only conclusion I can come up with. And yet, his voice does not scare me like it should. This worries me.

"You're not helping her by acting like this."

I feel the female touch me with her gentle hands again. They are experienced in what they are doing, of that I have no doubt. Which is why they scare me worse than the growling man. It's like she's toying with me before causing me pain. And there would be pain. There always was. I wish, not for the first time, that I could move my body—or at the very least, open my eyes to see what was going on.

"Look at what they did to her!"

The man growls again. His words—his tone—confusing me. He sounded angry, disgusted. And he had said 'they' as though he were not apart of it. Like he was appalled with what had been done to me. Was that even possible?

"I do see."

Her voice was ripe with emotion. I had no word for this emotion. And before I could even try to wrap my mind around one, the male was speaking again.

"Do you? Because I'm pretty sure that if you did, you wouldn't be telling me to calm down."

And then I heard the noise from before. This time, I'm almost certain it was a door.

#######

I must have fallen to sleep. Was it even possible to fall to sleep when you're already trapped inside your own mind? I try to open my eyes, but can't. I try to move my hands, but it doesn't work. And I try to wiggle my toes . . . nothing. Finally, I surrender to the fact that my body was still under whatever sedative they had given me. Instead, I listen to as much as I can since it's all I can do. The first thing I hear, is the breathing of the female again. I'm not sure how I know it's the same female from before, but something tells me that it is.

"I know you can hear me," she says unexpectedly, sending my heart jumping and the monitor beeping. But I also notice that her voice is soft, gentle like her hands. "Over the past few days, I have calculated and studied your spike in brainwave activities each time someone speaks around you. I think you're trapped somewhere in there, but also I think you're trying hard to come out of this."

Terror grips me. The last few days? I have only been aware twice as far as I can remember. All the same, it wasn't my loss of time that scared me . . . I was used to that. It was her acknowledgment of knowing that I could hear her, that had my heart racing. If she knew, then they all knew. And if they all knew that I was awake, even mentally, during their experiments . . . what would they do to me? Would they make sure I was out in the future? My heart monitor began beeping faster as the anxiety shrouded me. While I hated being awake for their sessions—knowing what was being done to me, however painful, was comforting. The idea of losing that . . . no . . . I can't!

"Calm down," the woman said softly. "This will help." I am unable to stop her from pricking my skin with a needle. Within seconds, my heart slows. I feel groggy now. It's getting harder to focus. Before slipping away, I feel her hand circle my wrist and squeeze lightly. I instinctively want to rip it away from her. And then her breath is at my ear. "We're rooting for you, Shepard. You've survived worse than this."

#######

This time the darkness lasts a lot longer. At least I think it does. I could feel the pain that I had been expecting, but it's not as bad as I thought it would be. I feel sore more than anything else. And dizzy. I try to move my fingers, and am relieved to feel them twitch in response. It's not much, but it's something. Next to me I hear the the woman gasp, followed by rushed shuffling, a loud beep, and her shouting something.

I can't make out her words through the pain, however. Pain that is steadily getting worse. The dizziness more severe. I felt like throwing up. I try to cover my mouth, but my arms are too heavy. A groan escapes my lips. Nearby the door opens, and I hear the hurried movement of feet—several feet, in fact. More than I've ever heard before in one setting. Usually the doctors footsteps are muffled or too soft to hear. Hearing them now would have scared me if it weren't for the dizziness. My thoughts were spinning. I listened to the murmured voices around me, both male and female. While their voices were hushed, they hammered my head painfully. But I cant show it. They can't know the truth. I bite back on the pain and try to keep from moving again. I don't want to alert them to the fact that I'm awake. I don't know what they'll do to me if they find out, and it's not something I want to learn.

"Move!" It's that familiar male voice again. He sounds . . . anxious. And then I feel something touch my face. Fingers? I don't know that I would describe them as fingers. The skin is hard . . . calloused maybe? I test out the word—calloused. It seems correct . . . or at least as close as I would get to correct. But they are also warm against my face, soft in the same strange way they were hard. I have never felt this kind of warmth. "Shepard?" His dual chorded voice vibrates low, as if he had whispered it. It strangely calms me.

But the word . . . the word confuses me. I'm sure I have heard it before, but I don't know it's meaning. I try wrapping my mind around it, to feel it out. Shepherd. I come up with nothing and trying to figure it out is painful. I give up and I squeeze my eyes tightly against the radiating throbbing.

"Shepard, it's me—"

I opened my eyes.

The room is dark, though it is not the pitch black I am used to and I'm forced to squint. Even the dimness hurts my eyes. It takes me a second, but finally I am able to focus on the man leaning over me. No, not a man, but a—I have no idea. Another race for sure. His face was grey, almost birdlike. Except instead of feathers, his skin looked like it was made from hard stone that traveled up and over the top of his head, ending in sharp spikes. Instead of lips, his mouth was more . . . for lack of better description, beak-like. What looked like it might be paint covered part of his face, though on the right side it ended abruptly due to severe scarring. I could only stare at him in wonder as he looked at me with concern and relief. Part of me screamed at myself to try and get away. That he couldn't be trusted. Four years should have instilled that in me. And yet, he made me feel . . . I chewed on the word forming in my mind. Safe. It couldn't be right. I have never felt that way. And I have never been safe. The thought hits me hard. My eyes widen and a scream escapes my lips. In turn, he jerked backward his own eyes flashing upward.

"What's wrong with her—"

Before he can finish, I force myself to sit up. It's hard and I don't make it far, but it's enough to get good enough leverage to push myself off the table. The man tries to catch me, but just misses and I hit the floor hard. My heart monitor is going haywire and people were shouting. My chest is heaving with each breath as I flipped myself onto my stomach and, using my arms, began to crawl away. I knew it was foolish. I knew I wouldn't get far before they surrounded me. But I had to try. I had to show them that I wouldn't be duped into believing their lies.

They were on me within seconds. Lifting me into the air, I began to buck my body wildly; screaming and lashing out at whoever I can in my attempt to get free. At one point, I heard someone grunt when I connected with what I'm sure was their jaw and immediately felt grim satisfaction from it. It was short lived, however. In no time flat, they had me back on the table. The last thing I saw was the woman rushing forward with a syringe and jamming it into my arm.

So much for her being gentle.


AN: Hello! I know that I'm posting the second chapter relatively soon after the first, but I already had it written and I couldn't wait! I hope you guys like it! Please let me know what you think :)