A Week Later

"Near, you have to pay attention, honey." Nate didn't glance at the woman beside him, instead placing another die on top of his dice city. When it didn't topple, he gingerly turned it so that the numbers lined up, like the rest of the structure. The woman sighed, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged it off and reached into the bag again, dice rattling through his fingers as he laid a fistful on the floor before him.

"Near, I have to teach you how to talk. We're going to learn sign language." Near glanced at her, wrapping a finger into his hair in irritation…it was so easy to drift off again. He shook his head once, and went back to his building.

"Near, you have to pay attention, now. I don't have long." He continued to ignore her. Plucking another die off the carpet, he went to place it alongside the other. Suddenly hands were beneath his arms as the woman, Sarah, finally got frustrated, and drug him back across the carpet.

Nate just stared at her blankly as she sat herself between him and his building. The finger in his hair twisted harder, but his expression didn't change. She made a small motion with her hand.

"This is your name." She explained. "Your turn."

Nate just leaned to peer around her at his building, rolling the single die between his thumb and forefinger.

"Near, pay attention, or I'll take the dice away." Finally, his eyes narrowed, the first sign of emotion crossing his features since he arrived here. To her shock, he set the die down and his hands began moving furiously as he signed.

Did it ever occur to you that I already know sign language and simply do not wish to speak with you?

Sarah stared, eyes wide before numbly signing back.

How did you learn it?

The woman at the other orphanage taught me. Now leave me alone. I do not wish to speak to you.

Near that isn't very nice.

My name is Nate. Go away.

She watched the tiny boy crawl around her to finish working on his building.

XXXX

"He already knows it?"

"Yes sir…more fluently than I do."

"...Very well then. I suppose we should leave him be."

"I disagree, sir."

"What do you mean?"

"I think we shouldn't indulge him. If we leave him alone, he may never recover."

"Every time we've forced contact Sarah, he's either become violent, or slipped back into the catatonic state they found him in. I don't want to risk that becoming permanent." Roger stood slowly, and Sarah sighed.

"I still think he needs human contact."

Roger's eyes hardened. "That's why you're our language specialist, Sarah. Not our psychologist. You're dismissed."

XXXX

Nate paused as his fingers hovered over the dice building; his next piece nearly in place. His dark eyes froze, glassy as he stared at the wall of white and black spots. He'd heard it. His entire body tensed, the die slipping from his fingers as he pulled away sharply. The sound came again…quiet, barely there…the sound of breaking glass.

His dark eyes tore away when the white and black began moving, the colors shifting violently. Looked at the wall; he focused on it, and the dizziness stopped. The chime came again, of glass hitting the tiled floor. Tile? It was carpet beneath his toes. His arm snuck around his knee, a finger twisting into his hair. He gripped hard, his head tilting to the side as he closed his eyes and listened.

It came again. From the hall, the hall outside his bedroom. A coldness crept into his bones, slipped under the door and wrapped itself around his soul…the window was broken.

The window was broken.

The dizziness hit him again, the cold biting sharper, and though his chest constricted in a whimper, no sound came out. It came back, louder this time, and his eyes opened once more, staring at the blank expanse of white wall before him. The door. He stood, shakily, blood freezing in his veins as he moved forward. The room spun a bit, but again, no sound left his throat when his body tried to whimper or cry out. It was becoming hard to breathe.

He took a lilting step forward, and the sound was so loud it made him jump. The room shifted violently, and he froze, because if he could just stand still, it would right itself again. Tremors wracked his body, ripping through his small frame like a kitten left in the snow. Cold…it was so cold…the door knob was beneath his hands, and he pulled it open.

XXXX

Roger watched the door slam behind his language assistant and felt slightly guilty for snapping at her. He'd been at this post for almost fifty years however, he knew how to read his children. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes tiredly. On the laptop screen before him, it the top corner, was the security screen for the solitary hall. If he'd glanced up, he'd have seen Near's door opening inch by inch. He'd have seen the boy peering out into his hall, his face blank. He might even have noticed the way he shook, the way his movements jerked like a person just released after a long time of being bound in one position.

But Roger was tired…

And he didn't look up.

XXXX

The sound of glass, glass hitting the floor, hitting the tiles, and the breeze was cold as it washed over his thin white socks. The tile beneath his bare feet was smooth, slippery, and he was very quiet.

The window was broken.

The finger at his hair pulled…pulled faintly, gently, and then finally fell away, his arms drifting to his sides. Dizziness, followed by a wave of nausea, gripped him again, and he paused until it passed. There was simply nothing in his stomach for his body to reject, and it amounted to nothing…another moment of the world rolling strangely before his eyes, of colors shifting like living things.

The window was broken.

His head tilted to the side again, lips slightly parted as he tried to be silent, still…even to silence his breathing. It wasn't enough and he held his breath. He body trembled wildly, a rabbit going into shock, and he took another step forward before the cold froze him place. The sound came again, and echoed, terrifyingly loud in his ears. The high tones ran together, lilting into a painful screech, and unspeakable ringing. His small hands came to cover his ears, trying to block it out but it only grew louder, coming from everywhere.

The window was broken, the window, the window…

His eyes, glassy and unseeing, stared into the open air over the stairs, stared, seeing his hallway. Glass hit the tiles, ringing off the carpet beneath his sock. Cold air rushed in from the night sky, washed over his bare feet, chilling him to the bone, and he took another step forward.

The ringing stopped. Everything stopped. The sound of his own breathing filled his ears.

The window was broken.

Why?

XXXX

Roger looked up in time to watch Near's body crumple to the ground, his eyes open and unfocused, his breathing labored. He peered at the screen only a second before slamming his hand onto the microphone by his desk.

"Response team to the Solitary, room 32. Child is unconscious. Repeat, I need a team to Solitary."

His heart pounded in his ears as he rounded the desk, fear for the young making his old limbs limber again.

Near had fallen only inches from the flight of stairs…a fall that likely would have killed him.