Hours. It had been hours and these two were still at it. Instinct kept him in a ball. Logic kept him in a corner. Escape? It hadn't crossed his mind until now—it scared him all the more, as if these two alone weren't enough to deal with.
Why did they keep going?! Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth! It was a neverending conversation, one that he'd never experienced before. It was unbearable but he was forced to stay still and—
What was that noise? It was a dripping kind of noise, not steady but definitely frequent enough to worry him. Then again, everything so far had him on edge. The sharp pain in his hands, right where the rings went through them, got worse as the dripping continued. It didn't take a genius to figure out where the leak was coming from.
He sat up just enough to have a look at his hands. They were bleeding pretty badly—apparently all those times the got caught around the green thing had been much more severe than he ever would've thought. It should've hurt him back then; he should've been able to feel it, seeing as skin had slowly begun to tear.
They were English-speakers; they could fix it. He knew for a fact that he was a valuable possession, something they wouldn't dare let die. If he was wounded from something like this, they would do something about it. But he couldn't bring himself to move... And he couldn't show them while they were having such a serious conversation...
He brought a hand up to his mouth and tried to suck on the base of the ring, able to get most of the blood off. He had been injured before but wasn't used to nursing his wounds. Normally this was done by special people in the facility. No one had ever licked him before, but he didn't have anything else he could use to staunch the bleeding. And he wasn't exactly partial to the coppery taste. It was just another thing he had to deal with in the Outside.
"What are we— Hey!" Tucker shouted. "Sam, look at his hands!"
The girl took a few seconds to assess his hands and he assumed she decided it wasn't a good sign. At least she was right about his condition. English-speakers were his red button but they were very much capable of treating him. However, they would have to move close to his rings, to the point where they were actually touching the recently pierced points. Needless to say, it was far too much for his comfort. He knew it was likely to hurt but he would also have to repeatedly remind himself that it would help. He'd lost blood before and he knew feeling faint wasn't normal unless too much blood was lost.
Tucker bent down but was too far away to touch him.
"Wait, Tuck," Sam sighed. "Apparently you're scary. I have a first aid kit in my bathroom. I'll get it and in the meantime try to figure out how we can get the bandages around those rings."
Sam departed to head out to a different room, leaving only Tucker in the vicinity. Tucker could probably help but touching the base of the rings was a difficult sensation to handle. Especially with the rings newly pierced and already having been yanked on, the entire flats of his hands were sore, both the palms and the backs. He would have to endure it for his own sake though, even if it was incredibly hard to do.
Sam came back carrying a little white case. The case was no stranger to him—he knew it contained medical supplies. With a red plus sign on top, it wasn't hard to figure out that this case was definitely meant to help him. Maybe she didn't speak his language but at least she knew what to do.
He allowed her to come near him, refraining from flinching in her presence, and take hold of his wrist. He knew the only way she would be able to help was to bring his hand closer to her, so he had no choice but to stay still and look away so he wouldn't see it coming...just in case there was more to it than bandages.
He was shocked at how gentle she was being—normally everyone was a tad rougher. It felt more like she was toying with him instead of actually taking care of him. He only wished he was capable of giving someone the benefit of the doubt. But he knew all too well what they could do, how they could act. It was unkind, to say the very least.
He waited for the pressure to come, followed by the pain of bandages being tied tightly against the holes where the rings went into him.
"You know," Sam murmured, "this has to be the absolute worst place to get body piercings."
She opened the case and took out some white bandages and two cloths. The good news for him was that he knew exactly what they were and what they were used for. If he didn't know, he would've had a hard time restraining himself from squirming around and making it ten times worse.
He let out a small sigh as she held his hand out flat, palm facing down. Then, realizing this wouldn't work, she turned his hand to the side and reexamined it. It wasn't bleeding as much as before but it was still bad enough to require basic medical treatment.
As she began carefully wrapping his hand up, she said, "So why exactly did you break into my bedroom and then get scared when a teenager with no muscles comes up to you? If you really can't speak, then do you do sign language or write something down? Something like that? Yes or no, just a quick nod of the head."
Yes. No. Jes. No. She was probably asking him if he could understand what she was saying.
He shook his head and she exhaled when she saw it.
"Tucker, is there any other form of communication beyond writing, speaking, and sign language?" she asked.
The word "Tucker" proved to him that the question wasn't directed at him.
Tucker shrugged and answered, "Not that I know of."
Sam groaned and struggled to tie the bandage up. It did hurt, just as he had predicted, but it was beneficial. Supposedly Projekto Nivelo Up was beneficial to both sides but it wasn't. They would've lost him if it had continued like it was supposed to.
"Maybe he's missing?" Tucker suggested. "If we could find his parents—"
"Stop right there. If he ran away there would be a reason for it and we don't know what that reason is. I mean, what if his parents were abusive? If they were, what if he was trying to hide by coming through my window? Plus, he was scared of us even though we don't really look like we could hurt anyone. What if he just doesn't trust people? I don't think it's a good idea to throw him out in the open right now. I'm guessing he'll leave on his own when he's ready."
"You don't think it's a bad idea to let a random stranger roam around your room for however long?"
"What's the worst he can do to us? He can't hurt anyone with those rings on him and judging by how he reacted when you touched one of his rings, it's obvious that it hurts him. He knows we can just pull on his rings. So yes, I think it's safe to have him here and no, I don't think he'll try to hurt anyone. If anything he'll try to hide so we won't hurt him."
"I don't know, Sam... How do you know he isn't just 'psychologically challenged'?" Tucker asked, putting air quotes around the words "psychologically challenged".
"Even if he is, I still think there's a good reason he came here," the girl countered as she finished tying up his other hand.
He yawned and his entire arm went limp with the severe lack of energy. He had been too uncomfortable—and still was too uncomfortable—to eat yesterday and it was showing well today. He could feel his stomach about to growl but it never really did. What it did do was leave a cold pit inside him. Thankfully he would be sleeping it off in a few minutes. Maybe not even minutes, he could be asleep in seconds with the way he was going downhill. It really did feel like his body was slowly deteriorating and his regret for cooperating with Projekto Nivelo Up grew. The project itself only proved that they were using him as an experiment for what was probably their idea of a greater purpose. The only question he had now was, what? Well, two questions actually. What was their purpose for all that and when would he be let loose?
"Uh...hey, Tuck? What color were his eyes last time you looked at them?" Sam asked.
Tucker peered around Sam and furrowed his eyebrows. "I could've sworn they were green..."
"That's what I thought too. Maybe they change color or something?"
"I guess so. They went from green to blue; if that's not a color change then I don't know what is." The boy shrugged nonchalantly with his words.
He sighed at yet another conversation. He was forced to listen to a language he didn't know and it was killing him.
"Hey," the girl said. "He doesn't look very well. Think he's sick?"
He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall.
"He might just be tired. He looks like he's already trying to get back to sleep."
The world changed in an instant after those last words. For one, he found himself on the floor. That wasn't exactly normal. He had woken to a terrified screech. Then, as if to top it all off, something had been thrown at his head. The something he felt was soft, cushiony, and overall relaxing. It was rectangular and white—a pillow. Whoever intended to hurt him with this thing was insane.
"I-I'm sorry," a shaky voice said. "I forgot you were here."
He observed his surroundings and suddenly the events of yesterday came crashing back to his already stressed mind. Every single thing had been taken into account and he wished it hadn't. It would be so much easier to forget everything and start anew. The Outside harbored a deep hatred for fragile beings, because he still had no idea what to do—he didn't even know what was going on! Even with the girl here to make his decisions, she meant nothing if he didn't have a translator.
"It's not every day you wake up to find a random person in your room," she finished, trying to smile off her discomfort.
Suddenly her face grew serious with concern and she added, "You suddenly passed out yesterday even though it was broad daylight—still morning, actually. You slept the rest of the day and only woke up this morning. Well, you probably would've slept longer but I guess it's my fault you're up. On the bright side, your hands have already healed. I took the bandages off before I went to bed. Oh, and Tucker and I have decided to let you stay at my place. I know I'm a girl and boys aren't supposed to stay in a girl's house, but it's for the best. Tucker's parents are way too attentive and there's not as much room in his house. Meanwhile, my parents never pay much attention to me and there's more than enough room for you to stay here. So, um, make yourself at home I guess. But I'll beat you into next week if I catch you trying anything funny, got it?"
It sounded like a rhetorical question but she was an English-speaker, something to be feared yet respected at the same time. Since he was clearly going to be staying with her until someone came to pick him up and bring him back, he figured this would be the best chance to attempt a makeshift English lesson. It would be a little hard given the lack of exposure to the language and the equal lack of translation. He frowned at the thought of forever being unable to respond to her words. This time it wasn't the rings that would hold him down.