Thank you, BK2U, for your editing skills.
I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend. Thanks so much to those of you who are reading and following along :)
"Did you do it on purpose, Eric?"
I would roll my eyes, but that would give Dr. Erin the satisfaction of knowing I was listening to her. So instead, I shrug and focus on the spot just to the side of her until my vision blurs.
"Are you aware that intending to harm someone, especially with premeditative intent, is enough to get you sent back to solitary confinement? We have a strict no violence towards patients policy here." She keeps talking as though I'm really listening, staring at me over her glasses. "We're trying to turn off the reaction that causes you to want to be violent. We're trying to teach you coping skills other than.."
"Then maybe you shouldn't force everyone to play such a violent sport," I helpfully suggest. I'm starting to get bored sitting here, listening to her drone on and on about how nonviolent they prefer their patients. I almost wish she'd just get on with whatever point she was trying to make so I can head back to the next stupid activity I'll be forced to participate in. Dr. Erin frowns deeply and shakes her head.
"Two incidents in one day doesn't look great. The orders from Dr. Branger are that you're to be sent to see her for counseling."
I blink and keep staring. The dot on her wall was once a hole, perhaps created by something tacked there. Now it sits there empty, blank, and blurry in the stale air of this office. I stare harder, so hard that I can see the dust particles floating lazily through the sliver of sunlight pouring in from her office window.
"Eric, did anyone give you a handbook yet, or have you sign any paperwork?"
I shake my head, watching the dust particles scatter in a flurry, then resume their lazy descent onto the desk.
"Alright, well, I'll get one to you. But you should know that the handbook states that—"
"Your handbook has a section on what to do if someone accidentally hits another person in the face with a shuttlecock?" I finally look at her, feigning innocence. "You and I both know it could have been an accident."
"You and I both know that it was no accident, Eric," Dr. Erin retorts. Bless her heart, she finally looks irritated. "You can't tell me that you accidentally served the thing right at him. I was told that just moments prior he was insulting you, and that your actions stemmed from anger."
Well, no shit. I didn't think anyone needed to waste years of their life in Erudite, slaving away for a paper certificate that would someday hang in a mental institution, to come to such an obvious conclusion.
"I was just playing a game. After all, that's what I was told to do," I point out, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. She stares back at me for a second, then scrawls something on a piece of paper before sliding it across the desk. I watch her chew on her lip, as though she's contemplating what she just wrote.
"Eric," she says slowly, making sure she has my full attention. "I'm well aware of the games you're playing. And I'd suggest you knock them off."
She shoves the sheet of paper closer to me and motions towards the door.
"Follow me."
Dr. Erin walks me to an exam room.
After telling me to sit atop the examining table, she then leaves me alone. I immediately suspect that this is another test, because it had seemed to me like Dr. Erin wasn't thrilled with what was about to happen. The room I'm in is rather bland; there are a few medical posters that display the pathways of the brain, and several others that show some sort of advertisement for a serum. There's also all sorts of equipment, boxes labeled "sharps," and several large glass bottles of disinfectant sitting on the counter.
I could break one over Dr. Branger's head when she walks in the door, but I don't.
Only because I never get the chance.
I have been sitting on the examining table for no more than thirty seconds before she appears, papers in hand, ready to read me the riot act. When her words have no visible effect, she shakes her head, opens the door, and calls out two names I don't know. I watch her like a hawk when she pulls out the needle, drawing a clear liquid from the vial with the same label as the one on the wall; I stare her directly in the eye as she comes towards me.
"You chose this, Eric. And now we are choosing to help you," she says authoritatively. I'm unsure if it's me or herself that she's trying to convince here.
It doesn't matter.
My brain suddenly reminds me of something I'd been forgetting, something that I'd seemed to be neglecting since being dragged here.
Dauntless never give up, and I am still Dauntless no matter what they try to do to me.
I don't have to accept the fact that she's about to drug me again, and I don't have to sit here and take it. In fact, I've had enough of this loony bin. I lunge away from her as she reaches for my neck, easily knocking her out of the way, and am out the door before she can utter a word. I sprint down the hallway, past the other exam rooms, rounding a corner and coming to a halt when I see orderlies walking towards me.
"Hello."
I greet them coldly, hoping they'll think I've been sent on my way, but it doesn't work. Neither of them so much as blink through their blank stares. They take a cautious step towards me, ever on alert. I stare them down, calculating just how to get past them when I hear footsteps behind me.
"That's enough, Eric."
Dr. Branger sounds exasperated. When I glance over my shoulder, she's standing right there, syringe in hand, grimacing at me.
"I can see we're going to do this the hard way, then. Thomas, Eugene, a little help, please. We'll take him to Nancy's room afterwards."
At her words, I realize I've lost all control of the situation. The orderlies have me pinned up against a wall a second later, and no amount of struggling is enough to prevent the needle from piercing my skin. The needle slides into my neck, but this time, the sensation is almost pleasantly familiar.
Dr. Branger studies me as she wipes my neck off with an alcohol-soaked pad, the action rougher than necessary. "You're only making this harder on yourself, you know. And we want to help you." She wipes my neck again and sets the syringe down on the floor next to her. "We can help get you through this."
Her words seem to float in the air, almost visible in front of me. My lips quirk up, the effects of the serum already kicking in at an alarmingly fast rate. I can only guess she has increased the dose, because I swear I can feel the clear liquid rushing through my veins, coating each and every cell in my body until I feel like I'm made of marshmallows.
"I'm doing….just fine. I don't need your help. I need to go home."
I sound drunk now, the words jumbled and slow, and I lean back against the wall next to the door, sliding down to the floor. I can only give in to the feeling, even more so when just a few minutes later, I am yanked back to my feet, led to a room, and shoved face first onto a bed.
"You awake there, big guy? You got a visitor."
Kenan's words are as cheerful as ever, rousing me from a deep, dark sleep. I sit up slowly, rubbing my hands over my face and trying to get rid of the drugged haze that fills my head. Whatever Dr. Branger gave me was much stronger than the last time. I found myself completely unaware of anything, not even how someone got me back to my own room.
I swallow thickly as I sit up more, trying to ignore the way my stomach turns over queasily.
"You good there? You've been out cold for a while now."
"What time is it?" I ask, glaring over at him. He's standing beside me in his perfectly white outfit, stark against his skin, with a concerned look on his face. I wait while he looks me up and down, then extends his hand out towards me. "I said…"
"Take it easy there, tiger. They knocked you out good this time. A little less peace serum and a little more midazolam. You might want to get up slowly. You've been out for a good seven hours. Just take your time. Some patients feel a little nauseous after that shit."
I blink.
Fuck.
Seven hours of my life gone down the drain. His words only confirm my worst fears, that they have drugs far stronger than I'd thought, and they are willing to use them on me. If I don't start to appear a bit more compliant, I am going to spend the rest of my days here in a medically-induced haze.
"Why?"
The word comes out of my mouth as I ignore his outstretched hand and force myself to stand up. Everything aches; my joints protest and my muscles feel like they're being ripped apart. I stumble as my feet hit the ground, and I'm only steadied by Kenan's grasp on my arm.
"Protocol. That's the recommended amount of time for sedating a patient that's out of control. They think a little reset of the mind will calm you down, and that seven hours is the perfect amount of time." Kenan suddenly doesn't sound quite so cheerful now. He helps me stand in place, then motions at the door. "You missed lunch. And dinner. And showers. I figure we'll meet your friend, then you can grab something to eat and shower. You probably won't be too tired, but if need be, we'll get you something to help you sleep."
He begins to urge me on, helping me walk to the door.
A hot feeling begins to boil beneath my skin. It's sticky and uneasy, and I'm starting to realize I might be in over my head.
"I don't want it," I nastily inform him, but I sound less like the leader of Dauntless, and more like Four when he was asked to take the leader position: weak and whiny.
"I know, man. We'll see what we can do."
My bare feet hit the cold tile of the hallway. I walk on, furthered by Kenan's push, ignoring the wide, blinking eyes of Violet, who is standing in the doorway of one of the empty rooms across the hall. She watches me walk by, shrinking back slightly when I glare at her, her fingers digging into the ancient doorframe.
"Where are you going?"
I can't tell if she's asking me or Kenan. Before I can snap something at her, Kenan waves her off, reminding her that she left her books at the nurses' station. He grants her permission to go grab them if she hurries, and for a few steps, she quietly joins us. She walks beside me like some sort of apparition in an oversized nightgown, vanishing to take a right turn when we take a left.
"This way. Second door after the second right, and we'll sign you in."
Kenan keeps talking, his hand on my bicep. I glance over my shoulder again, catching sight of a barefoot Violet watching us, clutching books to her chest. I swear she fades away before my eyes, as every single ceiling light in the row darkens.
"Get me the fuck out of here."
My words are barked at Max, and he visibly cringes in front of me. Had I not been drugged to the gills, I would have attacked him. Leapt across the flimsy card table and knocked him to the ground. Tightened my grip around his throat until he agreed to get me out of here, no questions asked.
Instead, I sit here, my limbs still heavy and my head still foggy, and listen to him recount a woeful proposition from Jeanine.
"We're working on a few things. We just need you to cooperate. Give the factions the peace of mind of knowing that you're here, and that you're being treated, and that Jeanine has fixed the problem."
I bristle at his words.
"I'm the problem?" I cock my eyebrow at him and he shrugs.
"You know she needs someone to take the fall. It ain't gonna be her. This is all for show. Go along with it. Think of it as a little vacation."
I slam my first down on the table, and Max jumps. He's awfully edgy today, and I swear that if I were able to, I would rip his head off before he blinks again.
"Bullshit. This isn't a fucking vacation. They keep drugging me. Are you aware of that? That anything I do ends up with me being stabbed with something to keep me sedated?"
I'm close to screaming the words at him, but it makes no difference. He shrugs again, fidgeting with the edge of his jacket. His uniform is new, but wrinkled and ill-fitting. Upon further inspection, I notice he looks worn out, and the dark ashy circles under his eyes are fitting proof that he hasn't been sleeping very well. Maybe Dr. Branger can help him out with that.
"Maybe you'd like to stay here? You could take a little nap. You're looking a little run down." My offer is malicious at best, and Max tries to avoid making eye contact with me. He shakes his head, glancing up only when a nurse enters the room with a tray.
"I was told to bring this to you since you missed dinner. Enjoy. I'll pick it up when you're done." She's brisk, setting down a tray of food without ever really looking at either of us. She shuts the door with a quiet click, and I try to listen to see if she locks it.
She does.
"Eric…"
I glare up at him, so livid that his face appears red in front of me.
"What did she send you here to tell me, then?" I question, my tone sharp.
Max can read me, just like he always could. I see the shift in his entire being as he pulls himself upright, his gaze flicking over my meal. He knows I'm not about to like what he's going to tell me, and I can see him mentally preparing to share the news.
"Two months. She wants you here for two months. She thinks by then this will have blown over. You'll come back to your old position, and we'll reintroduce you as a way to reinforce what she's been doing. How they can trust her. You'll be her success story."
His words slice at me, cutting in just the right places. I spent years working for her, giving up on anything but what she deemed important. Sure, it benefited me in some ways. I'd never wanted for anything, and I'd never had an ounce of fear that things wouldn't go my way.
Up until now.
Until she needed a scapegoat, and here I was. One perfectly medicated and trapped scapegoat.
"I'll give her two more minutes."
I snarl the words from between my gritted teeth. I clench them down until the bone in my jaw aches and my entire body tenses up. I can feel the coils of anger starting low in my stomach, burning all the way to up to my eyes.
I could murder him, easily.
"I'm afraid I can't help you there. I'm just as stuck as you are."
Rip him apart, limb by limb. One arm, then the other. His head, twisting until his eyes pop out and his mouth goes slack.
"I go up against her, I end up here with you. It won't do any good. These are her orders, not mine. You do your two months here, we come get you, and this will be nothing more than a distant memory."
"That's not the point—" I spit out, but he stops me, rising up from his chair.
"I know what you're thinking, Eric. How you'd like to kill me. Kill all of us. And then what? You think they're gonna let you out of here? After you've proven to be exactly what she's trying to say you are? I'm not saying this is pleasant, and I'm not saying this is anything I'd want for you. But you'll have to just do it. Get through it the best you can, and I'll get you out of here as soon as I can. I'll try to get her to agree to a month."
He pauses, his brown eyes meeting mine. I can see a lot of things flash through them, but mostly fear.
"You have my word."