Your name is now Jade Harley. The author has been conflicted as to whether or not she should let you narrate the story, but you assured her that you can handle the responsibility. You were actually a bit annoyed to hear that she had been doubting your abilities. Come to think of it, it's not terribly uncommon for people to underestimate you. Apparently dogs cannot properly raise human beings, but here you are, safe and sound. True, there are many things that humans do that you are unable to understand, like common manners and verbal communication, but those aren't important. And besides, you would much rather wallow in your own filth and communicate through a series of barks and growls.
You now realize that you have been drooling on Rose's lap, and you quickly close your mouth. People don't usually appreciate it when you drool on them.
Rose continues to scratch your head, unaware of the saliva puddle now on her person.
You wish you could tell her that you're sorry she's so sad. You wish you could ask her what happened to Dave, and why he's just lying there. Is he dead?
"We should get some sleep, Jade," she says, moving your head off her lap. You're not positive what she's saying, but you recognize your name and the word "sleep." You are rather, tired, come to think of it.
You wake up the next morning to a guard unlocking your door. Today is the one day a week that they let you out of your cell for more than a couple hours. Usually this would excite you, however by now you have learned that where they are taking you is not a happy place. The guard tries to put you into a straight jacket, so you bite him. It takes three guards and a nurse to finally wrestle your arms into the horrid thing, then drag you halfway across the asylum to the therapy ward. Of course, you have no idea what a therapy ward is, you just know it's where they try to force you to learn. You don't want to learn human things, because quite simply you don't want to be human. They're up-tight, they force you into straight jackets, force you to become more like that. You want nothing to do with their languages and customs, their stupid rules and utter bull shit ideals.
The staff wrestles you into a room. It is empty except for a large screen on the far wall, which begins displaying seemingly random images. From somewhere in the corner, a speaker blasts a woman's voice. You can't understand what she's saying, and you don't want to. You squeeze your eyes shut and start screaming, you don't want to see what's on the screen, you don't want to hear that woman's voice. You wrestle frantically with your straight jacket, you kick your feet in the air, you bite your own lip until it starts bleeding, but no one comes to let you out.
After a while, your voice goes hoarse, your legs give out, and the blood on your lip clots. You can no longer remember how you got here, or why you are here, (to be honest you never really understood that in the first place,) but you want out. You are no longer quite as defiant as you are scared. Why won't that woman shut up already? Why won't they let you out? You just want to leave, you don't understand why they're forcing you to do this. All you want is to be back with your friends, back with Rose and Dave, even that John guy. You find yourself slowly relaxing, making no effort to fight off the information, but at the same time feeling no desire to learn.
Eventually, a couple of guards appear in the doorway and escort you back to your cell. You make no attempt to fight them off, though you do growl slightly underneath your breath. A few minutes later Rose picks the lock to your cell and slips inside, accompanied by John. She sits down beside you and runs her fingers through your hair.
"How you holdin' up?" she asks.
You bury your head into her shoulder in response.
John cautiously sits down on your other side and pats you on the arm. "It's okay, you're safe now. Rose, uh, told me what they put you through."
You remain silent. The three of you stay like that well into the night, until you finally fall asleep.
Dave is awake again by rec time the next morning, but he no longer seems himself. He barely talks, and his lips are always pursed, as if he is concentrating hard on something. He doesn't scratch you on the head like he usually does, which concerns you greatly. You sit down by his legs and whimper a bit, trying to ask him what's wrong, but he doesn't move.
Rose comes over and pats you on the head. "C'mon, Jade. Dave needs some time to himself right now." She takes you by the wrist and leads you away.
You don't know why Dave is acting like this. You don't know why Rose insists you leave him alone. But you do understand that he's not himself, and that scares you. All you want is for Dave to be happy again. Wait, no, that's not right. You want Rose to be happy again too, to be her old, cheerful, if a bit psychotic self. You want John to stop being so stressed out with remembering things. You just want the four of you to be happy, and maybe run free in some green pastures or roll around in some mud puddles while you're at it. But there's something keeping you from happiness, something that seems far greater than just a little something that went screwy in all of your heads.
