Sunday morning, Joe lay still waiting for the bell to ring announcing breakfast. Since it was Sunday, there was no need to hurry out of the cell. He had learned last Sunday night that prisoners could remain in their cells if they chose on visitation day.
When the bell finally rang, Joe started to move but was halted by strong hands gripping him and forcing him onto his stomach. It was several minutes later before Pierce had finished. Joe arose without a sound and dressed. "What is it with you, kid?" Pierce demanded, his voice gruff but his expression curious. "No matter what I do to you or what I let get done to you, you just take it."
Joe's silence turned Pierce's curiosity into full-blown anger. "I asked you a question," he snarled, jumping out of bed and raising his fist to knock Joe down.
When Joe never flinched, Pierce lowered his arm. "You're one messed up kid," he muttered, then ignored Joe as he grabbed his own clothes and dressed.
No one bothered Joe in the shower that morning. Since Sundays were visiting days, all the prisoners were too excited over seeing their families and friends to bother with torturing Joe. Besides, he would be around for awhile.
Breakfast was a quick affair. Joe ate everything on his tray then waited for Pierce to order him to get up. They carried their trays to the window and set them down. As Joe turned around to make his way to the door, he bumped a guard who was holding a fresh cup of coffee. The liquid sloshed out of the cup and onto Joe's left arm.
Pierce watched it start to blister then looked up to Joe's face to see how this type of pain was affecting him. Pierce's eyes narrowed on Joe as he showed no sign the incident had even happened. "Ah, hell!" the guard growled. "Watch where you're going or next time I'll toss you into the hole," he snapped.
"He needs to see the nurse," Pierce said, ignoring the guard's rants.
"Take him on then," Pierce was instructed.
Pierce took hold of Joe's right arm and steered him out of the dining hall and along the corridor to the nurse's office. Joe was admitted immediately and Pierce ordered to wait. The nurse, a tall woman with features similar to those of his Aunt Gertrude, told Joe to sit down on the examining table. The guard stood silently in the corner observing.
Curious, Pierce cracked open the door just a fraction of an inch so he could hear what was being said. After all, Joe was his now and he had every right to know what was going on. Besides, how could he hear Joe scream through the heavy closed door?
"This is going to hurt," the nurse told Joe. She glanced at his eyes and was a bit unnerved by the lack of emotion she saw in them. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you anything for pain," she continued. "We aren't allowed to keep that kind of medication here."
She began cleansing the area, her gaze wandering from her task to Joe's face occasionally. His detached look never wavered and she finished cleaning the burned area and then put on a gel antibiotic before bandaging it. She looked over to the guard and frowned. "He'll need to be checked every day for an infection," she told the guard.
"Why?" he demanded. "He'll let you know if it gets infected," he assured her.
"No, he won't," she argued. "Look at him. He's shut down. He didn't even feel the burn or what I did to him."
"Of course he did," the guard disagreed, not seeing how she could believe that. "That was a wicked burn. He felt it. He's just....stoic," he ended, with a shrug as he came up with the word he was looking for.
"No," she denied. "His nerves are still sending the sensations to his brain, but his brain isn't processing them. Look into his eyes," she ordered. "He's existing. No more, no less."
When the bell finally rang, Joe started to move but was halted by strong hands gripping him and forcing him onto his stomach. It was several minutes later before Pierce had finished. Joe arose without a sound and dressed. "What is it with you, kid?" Pierce demanded, his voice gruff but his expression curious. "No matter what I do to you or what I let get done to you, you just take it."
Joe's silence turned Pierce's curiosity into full-blown anger. "I asked you a question," he snarled, jumping out of bed and raising his fist to knock Joe down.
When Joe never flinched, Pierce lowered his arm. "You're one messed up kid," he muttered, then ignored Joe as he grabbed his own clothes and dressed.
No one bothered Joe in the shower that morning. Since Sundays were visiting days, all the prisoners were too excited over seeing their families and friends to bother with torturing Joe. Besides, he would be around for awhile.
Breakfast was a quick affair. Joe ate everything on his tray then waited for Pierce to order him to get up. They carried their trays to the window and set them down. As Joe turned around to make his way to the door, he bumped a guard who was holding a fresh cup of coffee. The liquid sloshed out of the cup and onto Joe's left arm.
Pierce watched it start to blister then looked up to Joe's face to see how this type of pain was affecting him. Pierce's eyes narrowed on Joe as he showed no sign the incident had even happened. "Ah, hell!" the guard growled. "Watch where you're going or next time I'll toss you into the hole," he snapped.
"He needs to see the nurse," Pierce said, ignoring the guard's rants.
"Take him on then," Pierce was instructed.
Pierce took hold of Joe's right arm and steered him out of the dining hall and along the corridor to the nurse's office. Joe was admitted immediately and Pierce ordered to wait. The nurse, a tall woman with features similar to those of his Aunt Gertrude, told Joe to sit down on the examining table. The guard stood silently in the corner observing.
Curious, Pierce cracked open the door just a fraction of an inch so he could hear what was being said. After all, Joe was his now and he had every right to know what was going on. Besides, how could he hear Joe scream through the heavy closed door?
"This is going to hurt," the nurse told Joe. She glanced at his eyes and was a bit unnerved by the lack of emotion she saw in them. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you anything for pain," she continued. "We aren't allowed to keep that kind of medication here."
She began cleansing the area, her gaze wandering from her task to Joe's face occasionally. His detached look never wavered and she finished cleaning the burned area and then put on a gel antibiotic before bandaging it. She looked over to the guard and frowned. "He'll need to be checked every day for an infection," she told the guard.
"Why?" he demanded. "He'll let you know if it gets infected," he assured her.
"No, he won't," she argued. "Look at him. He's shut down. He didn't even feel the burn or what I did to him."
"Of course he did," the guard disagreed, not seeing how she could believe that. "That was a wicked burn. He felt it. He's just....stoic," he ended, with a shrug as he came up with the word he was looking for.
"No," she denied. "His nerves are still sending the sensations to his brain, but his brain isn't processing them. Look into his eyes," she ordered. "He's existing. No more, no less."