Dang. Two updates in a row for this one. Well, I've kinda decided that Fits of Madness and Isolated are going to be my first priority at the moment. Consider the others on a temporary hiatus. I might get around to updating them every once in awhile, but that's pretty much it until these are over.
Shameless Advertising: I guess this only applies to Fits of Madness now, cause that's the only other one I'm going to update for awhile...
Disclaimer: I am so sick of writing these. I don't own the show. Blech.
Isolated
Ch. 8
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Tucker groaned, wishing his head wasn't so sore. He had woken up in some type of cage with barely enough room to hold him. He couldn't even stand up or lay down; he was stuck in the awkward sitting position that Dash put him in when he shoved him in there. Tucker sighed and set his forehead against the cool metal of the cage. It helped to soothe his headache.
He tried to forget where he was, what he was in for. Sadly though, it wasn't working all that well. The reminders of where he was were everywhere. The cage, the harsh lighting, the white, those horrid smells of chemicals, and that stark, unnatural feel that just oppressively covered the place. It was impossible to escape, even in his own mind.
He didn't know the beady-eyed boss was there until he felt the needle jam painfully into his arm. He hissed as it was jerked roughly out again, a small trickle of blood coming out from the opening. It was a large needle. The sound that came out of the boss's mouth could almost be described as a cackle, but that wouldn't really do it justice.
"What did you-?" Tucker began to shout, his face pressing up against the bars.
But before he could get the last word out, his eyes rolled around to the back of his head. He started to thrash wildly, almost managing to tip the heavy cage over. The boss sat in a chair nearby, holding a small pad of paper and a pen. And enjoying the show, of course. He lived off of vengeance. A cruel smile made its home on his thin lips.
Poor Tucker was going to be driven insane.
By any means necessary.
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He gazed at the girl beside him, wishing he knew of a way to help. There was a word lingering in the back of his mind, something that he needed to know. He screwed his blue eyes shut and tried to concentrate, hoping that he could find the elusive word somehow.
'What is it…I-I think it starts with an h…hostel? No, that's not right…'
He could feel her getting further and further away. He didn't want her to die. He was getting frustrated, it would be his fault if she died...all because he couldn't remember some stupid word. He put his head in his hands and stared at the floor. Nothing was coming to him, absolutely nothing. He glanced at the girl again. He glared at the floor. He could almost feel the word like a tangible thing in his mind, almost like the odd connection he had with that girl…He reached desperately for the word, and yet it still evaded his grasp. His eyes widened as he finally stumbled across what he was looking for. Instead of him having to catch it, it came to him.
"Hospital!" He whispered, "That's the word!"
In his mind, he could see a building with a sign saying the word hospital in the front; but it was vague, and slightly fuzzy. It faded away the longer he looked at it, until it dissolved into meaningless swirls of color that only served to made him dizzy. He shook the image out of his mind before standing up and resting his hand on the doorknob. Without thinking, he opened the door.
Seconds later, he crashed down to the floor again, clamping his hands over his eyes and trying his hardest not to scream. In his haste, he overlooked the chinks of light that showed themselves around the edges of the door. Beyond the door, bright, glaring lights shined in all their glory, blinding him with their damaging intensity. He slammed the door shut with his foot and lay limp on the floor, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. When the pain died down, he let his hands fall to his side. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes.
To see nothing.
He was blind.
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The boss rummaged around in his lab coat pocket, never taking his eyes off of the writhing boy in the cage. The boy had actually managed to tip it over. The beady-eyed man's hand enclosed upon a small, flat piece of metal. He took it out. It fit easily into the palm of his hand, and it had four, small buttons on it. He pressed the red one once. His smile widened.
"That fool should have known better. No one double crosses me. No one."
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Miles away, in the beautiful park among the groves of trees and pretty flowers, one man collapsed onto the grass. The brown-haired man gasped and closed his blue eyes, which had glazed over. He clutched his chest, digging his nails through his shirt and into his skin.
"No," He pleaded to the air, "Not this, not now..."
He gasped again. He coughed, hacking up an obsidian slime that killed the blades of grass as it fell on them.
His eyes opened again, but they were black.
A laugh erupted out of him, a harrowing, maniacal laugh. It was a laugh that scared people. He knew this, and he loved it. He loved fear.
A small child whimpered a few feet away, frightened beyond any sort of coherency.
He also loved death.
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In the house of an average family, a mother stood and stared, transfixed in horror, at the television screen.
"This is 4 O' Clock news, and I'm Harriet Chin with breaking news. Just minutes ago, a child was found dead, torn to pieces, in the park. She was a six year old girl with blond hair, green eyes, and an S shaped birthmark on her right arm. If anyone knows who this child is, please report the information to the police immediately. Everyone, please stay inside your house with windows closed and doors locked, the killer is still on the loose."
Tears fell down the woman's face and she dropped down to her knees.
"My daughter, my baby…"
The sorrow was heartbreaking. But this was only the first of many.
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M'kay! How did you like it?
Reviews motivate me.