A/N: CHAPTER TEN! WOOT! Sorry again for the wait; I can't blame it on research this time, just writer's block on how to end the chapter. :P
You guys rock. Seriously. Over fifty reviews for, like, nine chapters?! That's awesome!
Oh, and I know deep, deep, deep down inside, you all love my cliffies. ;)
When my surroundings began to rematerialize, I was surrounded in white.
I hadn't gone unconscious; I knew that for a concrete fact. It was just like…I can't even explain it. Like I had teleported, kind of.
What…? I thought groggily, trying to sit arms were pinned down, hugging my sides. I tried to move them. Couldn't. My wings were stuck, too, folded tightly on my back.
The sudden realization made my blood turn to ice.
I was in a straitjacket in a padded cell.
"No," I whispered in disbelief. I struggled violently, but stopped when I heard someone come in. I didn't need them to know I was scared out of my (now very screwed-up) mind.
"Hello, Max."
I said nothing, but attempted to look as fierce as a person could in a straitjacket.
The doctor smiled, like everything was perfectly normal. "We had no choice but to bring you here. You were not cooperating."
"Cooperating? You were trying to torture me!"
The doctor raised his eyebrows. "We were not. And the fact that you think we were is half the reason you're here. ECT was unsuccessful, so you will now have to have psychosurgery—brain surgery." He walked away before I could do or say anything.
Oh, God. If they had almost killed me with electroconvulsive therapy, what the hell would they do to me if they had full access to my brain?
There was no way out of here. Angry, scared, and devastated at my fate, I screamed. No one could hear me, right? I tried countless time to try and get out of the straitjacket, or escape the padded cell. It was impossible.
I did a lot of crying. I did a lot of sleeping, too. I know, it's weird. But it felt like sleeping was the only thing I had control over.
I had no idea how much time passed. Hours? Days?
The flock never came. Not that I expected them to, really. How would they find me? Or maybe they were dead now?
That last thought was a horrible one, so I hunted it down and stomped it dead. No. They weren't dead. And I wasn't going to die either. I could get out of this. I would get out of this.
But how?
I remembered reading about a guy who had gotten out of a straitjacket by dislocating both his shoulders to get more slack, but I didn't think I was capable of doing that. Nor was I that desperate yet.
But the material was awfully flexible. Hm.
Suddenly more determined, I placed my elbow on the floor and by sheer strength I gradually forced it up toward my head. By further persistent straining, I eventually forced my head under my lower arm. So now both of my encased arms were in front of my body.
I nearly cried in relief. I was getting out of this!
With my teeth, I undid the buckles on the cuffs. My arms were free to move but still in the sleeves, so it was like I was wearing an overlong jacket. I undid the buckles at the back with my hands, and all but ripped the thing off.
I stood up shakily. My elbows had swelled up from being in the straitjacket for so long, and my shoulder, back, and neck muscles were so cramped that to unfurl my wings was excruciating. I forced myself to look around the cell, trying to find a way out.
I didn't have to think for long, because a doctor opened the door and came in. He seemed surprised to see me not only not in a straitjacket, but with my wings out plain as day. I jumped into the air—and stayed up. Kicking him out of the way, I managed to get out the door before he could stop me.
When I knew he was too far to catch up, I landed clumsily and started running instead.
Where, where, where was the flock?
I noticed the stairs we had attempted to escape from. Should I try to go down them again, or find another escape?
I decided to just keep running.
But after being in that straitjacket for so long, I felt clumsy, like I didn't know how to run for so long. My muscles still hurt—hurt in a way I'd never experienced before.
I saw a window, and I was so desperate to get out of here—to see the flock, to try and forget this place and what they had done to me—that I once again snapped out my wings and, covering my face with my arms, went through the window, sending glass flying.
Eventually I saw a forest. I landed next to a tree, exhausted and in pain and disoriented.
I was trembling way too much for me to enjoy my freedom or fall asleep. I just curled up next to the tree, motionless.
As you can see, I wasn't thinking straight. My brain was evidently fried.
"Max?"
I raised my head. Angel and Nudge were there, with the boys not far behind.
"What are you doing?" Angel asked, looking terrified.
I didn't say anything, because even I didn't know.
Angel didn't move, but she must have sent a thought to Fang because he suddenly appeared by my side with Gazzy and Iggy.
"You okay?" He asked.
I nodded.
"You look awful," He observed.
"Oh, thank you," I said, now feeling more like myself, "that's exactly what every girl wants to hear from a boy." Not that I was like other girls. Or other humans, for that matter.
But you get my point.
A/N: I know, I know, it seems like a weird place to end, but I have to finish this TONIGHT, because tomorrow my compute is getting disconnected to be brought to the new house (remember how I told you I was moving?)
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