There wasn't much he was sure of anymore. He wasn't sure where he was, he wasn't sure what was happening to him or why but most of all... most of all he wasn't sure of who he was anymore. He wasn't sure of his name or where he came from, everything seemed to be lost to him.
No, there wasn't much he was sure of anymore, but there were three things he was sure of, and he clung to those three things like a drowning man clings to a floating log.
He was sure that the man with black and orange mask was bad and never to be trusted. He was sure that the only person he ever could trust was a man dressed entirely in black with a bat on his chest and most of all... most of all he was absolutely certain that he needed to escape.
He knew not how long he had been in this white hell of a prison and he'd lost count of the amount of times he'd tried to escape but he hadn't stopped trying. His failures at escape were marked by the bandages wrapped round his hands from the two different occasions when he'd dislocated a thumb in an attempt to free his hands in order to free himself from the rest of his bonds. The man with the black and orange mask had come to stop him within minutes and had relocated his thumbs without giving him so much as a pain pill. For some reason that had hurt more that when they'd been dislocated.
He'd accidentally dislocated his shoulder too during one of his escape attempts, it had been treated in the same manner as his thumbs. He hadn't been able to hold back the pained scream that tore through his throat at that point. The man with the black and orange mask had merely tsked at him and told him that he had brought it on himself before leaving the room. The noise in the room had returned then, much louder than before, his head felt like it might explode.
It had given him an idea for a plan though. The man with the black and orange mask had freed his arm in order to pop his shoulder back, the only reason why he hadn't utilised the opportunity to escape was because he hadn't been expecting any of it, but next time he would be ready. He wasn't particularly happy with the idea of having to dislocate his shoulder again, but he would need at least one good arm if he was going to escape.
He would also need to build up his strength if he wanted any chance of fighting the man with the black and orange mask off. That meant that he would have to be complacent the next time the man came in to put the tubes into him. He was pretty sure that those tubes were what kept him from dying of starvation and dehydration but he still tried his best to fight whenever the man came to insert the tubes into his arm, partly because he didn't trust anything that the man with the orange and black mask did, but mostly because he hated being poked by needles. Hmmm... well that at least put the number of things he was sure of up to four. The maddening sound also ceased when the man came in and he would pass out from exhaustion minutes after the man finished inserting the tubes. Sometimes he wondered if it was more than the exhaustion, maybe something mixed into the clear liquid that emptied out of the little bag into his veins, that made him pass out but he couldn't be sure. Not that it mattered. What mattered was that he not fight sleep this time but embrace it. He would need all the rest he could get before the noise exploded back on and tore him from his slumber as it did every single time. He sighed, at least he seemed to be getting better at tuning the noise out to a certain extent, he -
His thought cut off as the noise suddenly stopped. Time for his daily tubing. At least he assumed it was a daily occurrence since he didn't really have much of a concept of time anymore.
He heard the sound of a door opening and closing followed by the sound of approaching footsteps and the squeak of small wheels travelling across the floor. The man with the orange and black mask suddenly appeared in his field of vision and he instinctively snarled and tensed, suddenly unable to control his body's reactions. He just wanted to get out. Out of these restraints, out of this room, out of wherever here was. He just wanted it all to stop, he wanted to go home. The fact that he didn't even know where home was was enough to bring tears to his eyes but he blinked them back furiously. He refused to show any weakness in front of his tormentor if he could at all help it.
The man didn't say anything, which was a little strange because the man usually couldn't stop telling him how much of a useless nobody he was, but he couldn't care less. He just watched impassively as the man inserted the tube into his arm. The man made as to leave but then suddenly turned and grabbed his injured shoulder. He wasn't expecting it and so he couldn't help crying out, the tears that he had been fighting back forced over the edge by the sudden pain. The man only chuckled before releasing his grip and leaving again.
He was breathing hard as he waited for the pain to subside. He didn't understand why the man took so much pleasure in causing him pain, but it didn't matter. The next time he woke up he would escape... or he would do his best to die trying.