Chapter 6:

Dr. Harris stealthily walked out of the small foyer into the hallway, slowly closing the door behind her. "So, how is it?" a voice echoed behind her. She instantly jumped and placed a hand over her heart.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," Dr. Baum said, holding his hands up, as he backed away from the frightened woman.

"That's okay," Dr. Harris breathed. She closed her eyes for a moment to control her emotions before facing the other doctor. "What was your question?" she asked as she placed her thin glasses on her face.

Earnestly taking a step forward, he repeated, "How is it? Is there hope?"

Tying her hair back, Dr. Harris took a moment before answering the question, finding the best way to phrase it. "With a lot of help it should be able to get its mentality back."

Nervously stroking his goatee, Dr. Baum questioned, "And by mentality you mean..."

"Its frame of mind," she answered bluntly, thinking it was obvious.

"And its intelligence...?" the scientist pressed, gesturing her to continue.

Mentally taken aback from his question, Cassie just blinked a few times, never letting her guard down. After her session with Clark she had momentarily forgotten why she was called to the facility in the first place. Her voice cloaked with confidence she replied, "Oh yes, of course. H-...Its intelligence should return simultaneously with its grip on reality."

Not noticing Dr. Harris's fumble, Dr. Baum slowly nodded. "Very good. How long to you expect it to take?"

Dr. Harris visibly squinted, trying to recall all the observations she made with conversing with Clark. Subtly shaking her head, she said softly, "It's impossible to tell, at the least a couple months."

His pale blue eyes blinking with surprise, the scientist's jaw slightly dropped. "A-A couple months!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing down the vacant hallway.

"This isn't a science project, Dr. Baum," the psychologist replied sternly, placing her hands on her hips. "The human mind is a very fragile thing, sometimes it takes years to reconstruct it."

Shocked by his colleague's choice of words, Dr. Baum found his inner well of confidence and replied, "Our subject is not human. Please, don't forget that."

Frustrated with the scientist's blatant ignorance, Cassie surrendered. "I'm tried, Dr. Baum. I'll see you tomorrow." She let out a long sigh before turning and walking towards the exit.

The next morning, Dr. Harris strode down the immaculate hallway, exhausted and depleted. When she awoke that morning she was as worn-out as the night before, stress burdening her mind too much to relax. The psychologist was never one for coffee, knowing it was more the human's subconscious dependence to caffeine that woke them up more than the actual substance, but today she knew, if offered a cup, she wouldn't refuse. Luckily, the facility seemed to be as anti-caffeine as she was, since there wasn't a pot in sight. Not having an office of her own, she walked into the infamous public office where she spent six hours the day before searching through files. Her mind needed a break from the constant abnormalities, and any place familiar was certainly welcomed.

It was almost noon, and the building was as busy as ever. Numerous doctors ran about, gathering their daily information on their so-called 'subject'. Exhaling loudly, Cassie slowly closed her eyes and tensed every muscle in her body before slowly relaxing it. Listening to her rhythmic breaths, she was able to block out all outside noises and found her inner realm of security. After a couple minutes she slowly opened her eyes, amazingly feeling revived and invigorated.

Exiting the office, she politely smiled at a couple scientists passing by before continuing her destination to nowhere in particular. Since none of the other scientists knew what her true purpose was, she was only allowed to 'work' at night. Yet, in order to completely perform her job, she would have to find out more information about her patient's current living conditions, therefore secretly observing the tests performed within the facility.

As Dr. Harris strode down the hallway, pretending she was in a hurry, a faint noise caught her attention. Concentrating, she subtly turned her head towards the door she passed. She slowly pulled down her glasses, her hazel eyes twinkling with disbelief. It was...screaming. Her mouth slightly agape, she carelessly swung the door open, only to be floored by what was on the other side.

A couple scientists stood, two male and one female, with their clipboards in hand, hastily jotting down vital information. Beyond them was a large sheet of glass, revealing a small white room with what seemed to be an operating table stationed in the middle. Several doctors, dressed in surgical gowns surrounded the metal table, yet straight ahead was Clark, bound and sliced open across his stomach, like some type of lab rat. Not believing her eyes, Cassie brought a shaky hand up to her mouth.

Realizing there was another presence in the room, the female scientist turned around, surprisingly calm by Dr. Harris's reaction. "Don't worry, it can't see us," she stated, her monotone voice echoing off the walls.

"Th-this..." Cassie stuttered, her hand slowly moving down her neck.

The female scientist moved past her two colleagues, who were obviously too transfixed by the experiment to notice. Placing a cold hand on Dr. Harris's shoulder, she said, her eyes wild with fervor, "My reaction was the same when I saw the results."

Cassie looked at her incredulously as the scientist genuinely smiled. She couldn't believe someone could naively interpret her horror-filled tears as tears of joy. Licking her lips, she could only nod in response. Watching the heartless doctor return to work, Cassie slipped out of the room, subtly swallowing the bile rising in her throat. A new goal set, she walked down the hallway, a plan for Clark's escape already formulating in her mind.

To Be Continued...

oOo

Chapter 7:

The small desk lamp her only source of light, Dr. Harris glanced over her notes. She slightly smiled to herself at how unprofessional they truly looked. Scribbled down in blue ink and on a torn sheet of computer paper, it could easily be mistaken as a worthless piece of trash. Even through it was just a precautionary step in case she ever misplaced it, she knew it still resembled the way her observations usually looked. She was never one for taking a lot of notes, mostly because of her photographic memory, but partly because she didn't trust her own mind. Most of psychology was based on hypothesis and observations, usually needing a trail and error approach. Once something was written down on paper it looked far too definite and could easily be perceived fact, which is why 'possible' and 'likely' was often used in her written vocabulary.

She looked back down at the torn sheet of paper. 'Name: Clark aka: It.' Originally she wrote down the 'nickname' to mock the other scientists, but after seeing the horrible dissection, she quickly scratched out the nickname with her blue pen. She slowly continued reading. 'Fears human contact and hates threatening movements, no matter how subtle they make appear. Avoids questions and doesn't speak until spoken to. May have slight hallucinations. Possible paranoia.'

Sighing she looked back up and walked towards the large metallic door. Bracing herself for another session, she placed her hand on the doorknob.

oOo

People...everywhere. They're gone. They left. They left him alone, only to be replaced by a numbing pain. When they were there, the pain was sharp and clear, but once they leave their presence still lingered on by a vague throbbing rippling over his muscles. He never decided which was worse. He supposed he never would. Maybe one day it would end. He quickly shook his head, ridding himself of the thought. The people were all that ever existed, there was nothing before that and there's nothing beyond. Thinking about anything beyond was bad, and he wanted to be good. He tried to be good. Maybe if they told him what he did wrong, then he could try harder. But it wasn't their fault, it was never their fault. He should know by now. He should know what they expected. Maybe one day it will become clear to him. Yes, one day he'll be good.

He flinched at the sound of the door. He mentally scolded himself. They didn't like it when he was scared of them. They wanted him to be cold and emotionless. Flinching was bad. If he was good he wouldn't flinch. There were slow footsteps coming towards him. He slowly tensed, bracing himself against another flinch. There was suddenly someone in front him, looking at him with kind hazel eyes.

"Clark..." The name echoed throughout his ears. He only blinked. That wasn't his name. He didn't have a name. He didn't deserve a name. He wasn't human. A slow, cautious hand moved towards him. He tensed his jaw, trying his hardest not to move away. He squeezed his eyes shut when the hand touched him. It felt odd. The hand wasn't stiff or menacing; it wasn't even covered with a glove. Instead it was warm and soft. "Don't you remember me?" the calm voice said.

Biting her lip, Cassie looked at Clark curiously. He seemed nervous and scared, like the first time she met him. It was as if his short term memory lapsed, something not uncommon but very hard to permanently fix. "Think really hard..." she said barely above a whisper. She held her hand still on his cheek and slowly rubbed her thumb under his eye, just like she did the previous night.

As if triggering his mind, he snapped his eyes open and lipped, "Cassie."

"Very good," she encouraged while smiling. Placing a strand of his hair behind his ear, she asked, "How are you feeling?" His eyes immediately widened with panic.

The questioned repeated itself in his mind. An answer, he needed an answer...quick. What was his answer? It was a trick question. No...there were never trick questions. He just never knew the answer. It was his fault, not theirs. What if he said 'bad'? A loud voice echoed throughout the room. 'What! Are these living conditions not good enough for you? Does the alien need more!' Flinching against the voice, he reconsidered. What if he said 'good'? Once again the ominous voice answered. 'Oh...you feel 'good'? Are you mocking us? We can change that for you!' Neither was the right answer. He didn't know the right answer.

Cassie was stunned by Clark's sudden transformation. His eyes were squeezed tightly as he constantly flinched against something unknown. She could see his hands gathering the blanket towards him as the cot began to rattle with his trembling. "Clark!" she said louder than she intended to, becoming increasingly worried. She slowly smoothed his hair back, trying to comfort him any way possible.

His eyes snapped open, still wide with terror. "I-I d-d-don't know," he stuttered, swallowing afterward.

"It's okay..." she said, slowly nodding. "It's just me. I'm not going to hurt you."

'What do you mean you 'don't know'!' the voice hollered. Clark immediately brought his hands up, protecting himself from imaginary blows.

Cassie immediately brought a hand up to her mouth, seeing the chains still wrapped around his wrists. "Clark..." she whispered as she traced her fingers over the cold metal, not believing she blind to them under the sheet.

"I-I don't k-know..." he repeated, still fighting against the invisible foe.

Sitting on the cot in front of him, Cassie whispered with tears in her eyes, "Please...calm down. Nothing's going to hurt you." Once again she placed her hand on his face and slowly rubbed his cheek with her thumb.

He cautiously opened his eyes, and followed her tear-filled gaze towards his chained wrists. He lifted his hand up to get a better look at her. Thinking he was the cause of her pain, he whispered, "I'm sorry," his voice surprisingly calm.

Scooting further onto the bed, she breathed, "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Clark cautiously placed his head against her lap, as she continued to smooth back his tangled hair. Still blinking back tears, she couldn't help but smile at his subtle sign of trust. They remained silent for a couple minutes, each of them listening to the other one's breaths. "You're nice..." he whispered, before drifting off to a dreamless sleep.

Looking down at him, she smiled, realizing the courage it took for him to speak before being spoken to. "I'm going to get you home..." she breathed, swearing she saw glimpse of a smile appear on his lips.

To Be Continued...

AN: So Clark's POV...good, bad, okay? Please comment.