This day began like any other day at Lambda...
Norman opened his cerulean blue eyes and fixed them on the ceiling. He began to carve them...he had had another rough night.
"No!... No, please!..."
Nightmares that wouldn't let him rest.
He shook his head as if that would also shake off the reminiscences of what he had dreamt...
That little movement was successful every morning because once he did it, the memory of them began to fade.
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It was hard to tell how many days had passed since he had been brought here, as his routine was the same daily. It might as well have been a week... a month... a year... it was all the same.
Without the possibility of going outside, it was impossible to know what season of the year it was. He could only distinguish day from night because they turned on and off the cold lights in his room ...
This area is spacious. It has everything he need to live quietly. His bed is comfortable, he had a desk where he could write, read and eat, a bookcase where books were changed every so often, a full bathroom and the necessary personal cleaning supplies, plus a screen and a communicator that connected him to his guardians.
"...I've also detected up to six cameras watching me all the time, plus this tracker on my wrist that can't be removed with anything..."
The temperature of the place is pleasant. He doesn't feel cold or hot. He could say that is a good thing because it would keep him from catching a cold. The last thing he wants is to get sick and not be aware of what is going on around him.
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Norman got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. He turned on the hot water and let it run over his face and all over his body... the water felt so good... it was the only warmth he could aspire to lately, so he uses to wake up a little earlier to enjoy a few more minutes of that warm sensation...
"How I miss the hugs... no, Norman. Don't let yourself think about it. Concentrate. If you do, you'll break down... You know that."
Carefully, he carved away the area where they had placed the lambda tattoo...
"... it hurts..."
When he got here they anesthetized him, and although he was unconscious when they marked it, his skin was swollen and tender after that...
"... it hurts..."
It's been a while since then, but he still pays special attention to that area when he cleans it... It's not that it hurts physically... it hurts in his soul to see that eternal mark placed right over his heart...
"... it hurts..."
When he finishes bathing, he dries his body and puts on his uniform, which consists of a long-sleeved white shirt with short ruffles in front, dress pants of the same color, and a cream-colored sweater that, to break the monotony of the clothing, has a thin blue line at the V-neck and another one at the bottom where it ends, plus a kind of symbol located over the heart. He fastens his brown shoes, stands up, and looks in the mirror. He smiles wistfully as he sees his sad eyes reflected there...
"There are dark circles under my eyes… great… excellent detail… they match my mood."
With his hands, he arranges his snowy hair so that it doesn't fall on his forehead. He checks once more the last details of his outfit and walks with a confident step towards the communicator as he does every day.
"... Inhale..."
"... Exhale..."
"... Fake a smile..."
"... Touch the communicator..."
- Good morning, Norman.
- Good morning, Doctor.
Through the communicator, he hears that now so familiar voice.
- It's time for your daily checkup.
Norman places his hand on the touch screen.
Beep!
The device displays on the screen the satisfactory results of taking his vital signs.
- You're a very healthy boy. It's time for your breakfast.
His breakfast is delivered to him through a small hatch below the screen, and the day proceeds like any other.
"What will happen on the day when my vitals are bad...? Will they come for me and cure me?... Will they let me die?..."
Along with his daily breakfast, he is handed some pills. At first, they were few (one or two) but as time went on they increased in quantity. Norman has never wanted to take them, but he knows that if he doesn't, there will be trouble. He can't even imagine what they would do to him if he didn't take them voluntarily.
"No... I can imagine... they would obligate me to take them by force... they would subdue me and inject me for sure... which would be bad because it would raise suspicions... I need to gain their trust... I need them to believe that I am a meek lamb..."
He was very clear about his objective since he arrived here:
"... Survive..."
"... Escape..."
"... Reunite with Emma, Ray, and my family..."
These words are his mantra.
So every day he reluctantly ingested the drugs, knowing that these chemicals were hurting him. Norman loathed himself for it... Norman hated them for it...
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His morning routine consisted of this: wake up, get cleaned up, change, eat breakfast.
After breakfast, he is escorted to the exam room which is down a long hallway with mirrors, where he is put through a series of tests for several hours that include the operating table (like they had at Grace Field House), a series of hands-on activities (like putting together a Rubik's cube with measured time) and an oral interview, where he has to answer questions through a headset.
"Of all of them, my favorite is the oral interview... I can feel human again by exchanging words with someone else... even if I can only give answers to elaborate questions... even if I can't hold an open dialogue... but I hear someone else's voice... that's something, isn't it?"
Finishing such activities, he is escorted to his room where he eats, rests a bit, and in the evenings can entertain himself by reading books or doing other activities, such as putting together puzzles or playing chess... alone.
"All alone... I'm bored... I want to see them... no, Norman. Stop... Stop... Don't let those thoughts run their course..."
"...it hurts..."
"...stop it..."
"...it hurts..."
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In the time he has been here he has not seen any other fellow, only the doctors who escort him when he leaves his room, but they do not speak to him... they only address him to give him directions... they call him by his name with total familiarity and calmness, but he does not know theirs, he only addresses them as "doctor".
Of them all, there is one he sees (and hears) most often. Norman imagines he is the one who is in charge and responsible for him.
"Good morning, Norman"
"Are you ready for your exams today?"
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His dinner is delivered and as he finishes it, he puts on his pajamas, brushes his teeth, and lies down on his bed. Lights out every day at the same time (not that he knows what time it is, it's simply a deduction drawn from the times it takes him to do his activities)... but Norman is not someone who enjoys sleeping that early.
No. He's a night person, so as he lies there lying on his bed, he imagines and thinks of all the possible scenarios that could lead him to escape from this golden cage.
"Yes. Everything is comfortable here. Everything has the ideal temperature. Everything tastes good. Everyone speaks with a calm voice... But it's a prison. I'm a lab rat. I'm trapped and I have to run away from here... It's not impossible. The plan I gave them in the letter was perfect, it must have worked... How's everyone doing? You didn't leave anyone behind, did you? Did they find shelter soon?... They are all good?..."
Norman rearranges himself on his bed, on his side, in a fetal position, hugging his pillow as he does every night.
"...Emma... Ray... guys...I miss you..."
He stifles a few sobs as he hugs his pillow tightly and imagines dreams of freedom, where the mere memory of the air brushing against his cheeks or the smell of wet soil presses on his heart... where he can once again hear that lively voice that fills him with joy...
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Today is like any other day.
Norman opens his cerulean blue eyes and carves them a little with his hands. He shakes his head heavily, sits down on his bed, and gets ready to start his routine. Nothing changes, everything is the same.
"Nothing changes...all the same...that's to some extent good, isn't it?"
As he receives his breakfast, he notices that he was handed a new pill: it has a transparent reddish color and in the center, little white and blue orbs. It is strange and he leaves it for later.
He finishes his breakfast and even with all the doubts, he ingests it.
He gets up from his desk.
He goes to his daily exams.
He eats.
He wastes his time reading... or so-called reading, he is very concentrated looking for the weak points of this prison... he turns the pages lazily while he evaluates the little he knows.
"My head hurts from thinking... Will I be able to get out of here?... no, don't doubt Norman... Nothing is impossible... For you... for them..."
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Upon receiving his dinner, Norman sits down and begins to feel his neck itch, so he scratches it to lessen the sensation.
He tries to eat his food but feels strange. He gets up from the table and goes to the bathroom to wet his face and when he lifts it to look at himself in the mirror, he notices that his neck has a reddish color.
"... Wait... what...?"
He assumes it's from scratching, but this raises his inner alarms.
He sits back down at the table trying to eat what he was given. The food there certainly isn't bad. They have much more variety than at Grace Field House, more flavor, and here they serve him a large quantity.
Norman knows it's not good to waste food but tonight he's not feeling well at all.
He drinks some water...
He drinks some more...
He tries to take a bite of the food but he can't...
Leave the plate with all the food back in the hatch... He has never done this before but assumes this will generate questions.
"...I'll think about that tomorrow...I'm too exhausted to deal with it today..."
He changes into his pajamas and lies down to sleep... settles in on his side, hugging his pillow as he does every night.
But lying in his bed, he can't stop thinking and feeling weird. Something is happening to him. It's not normal to be so itchy and lose his appetite out of nowhere.
"I feel strangely weak... I haven't done any extra physical or mental activity to feel this way... and what about the itching in my neck... is it related to the new medication they gave me...?"
"... I'm scared..."
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Norman doesn't know how long it's been since he went to bed, but he hasn't managed to fall asleep because of the flood of thoughts and emotions keeping him alert.
"... What if I die?... If I die here, I won't be able to see Emma again... Ray... my family."
Tears begin to well up in his eyes but he tries to suppress them as much as he can. He feels a drop fall towards his ear, he wipes it away but realizes it's not coming from her eyes, but from his forehead.
"Am I sweating?... NO!... I'M BURNING UP!"
He gets up from his bed quickly, which causes him to become dizzy, so he waits a moment longer to walk to the touch screen that communicates him to the doctors.
He tries to walk, but his legs are unresponsive, they are shaking. Afraid of falling from his height, he prefers to lie down and crawl, which he also finds difficult as his vision begins to blur and his breathing is becoming labored. His arms are shaking and can barely support his weight. His mind, with difficulty, is focused on one thing.
"... I have to get to the communicator..."
"...why is it so complicated for me to get there?..."
Pulling strength from wherever he can, he reaches out his arm to touch the screen and is relieved to hear the voice on the other side of the communicator.
- Norman, is everything all right? What's wrong?
Hearing this, Norman drops his body to the floor and responds in a raspy voice, deeper than normal:
- No... I feel terrible... I'm burning up... dizzy... I can't move anymore...
On the other side, there is a clatter of objects and footsteps, Norman knows that they will come quickly, that they will cure him, that everything will be alright.
"They'll cure me... won't they? Am I not a special product? Am I not premium quality for the demons?"
With these thoughts running through his head, he hears them enter his room, place him on a gurney, and inject something into his arm. Norman can no longer move. He can't fight. He doesn't know what they injected him with, but he's confident they will save him...
"... they will save me... won't they?..."
Among the faces of those around him, there is the doctor who accompanies him daily to his examinations.
Norman doesn't even know his name.
"... alone... I don't want to die here alone..."
Norman feels the tears begin to timidly descend from his eyes but he doesn't have the strength to move his arms and wipe them away. He decides to leave it all to fate.
"I'm tired... I'm so tired..."
He closes his eyes praying to open them again.
His last thought is about a certain tree situated on a hill with two people under it...
It looks so far away...
It's so far away...
... but it feels so warm...
"... so warm..."
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