Jerking back awake from the short amount of sleep he did get. The man looked around the enclosed space apprehensively. The straight jacket had been removed but the man had discarded his clothes once more. Ribs poked out beneath his skin and he looked pale in the eerie light. At the door, there was a tray of food waiting for him to eat. He stared at it as if waiting for it to move or rather something to move off of it. When nothing happened, he crept forward, making a wide circle around it before finally getting closer.
From what he could see, there were no maggots or flies on it.
Starving, he collapsed onto his knees and ate with his bare hands like a starved animal. Mashed potatoes were smeared over his face as he tried to scoop it up and shove it into his mouth all at once. When he began to choke, guards had to come in and help him cough up the food. His body was sore from the ministrations and with dismay, he saw over half of his food disappear out of the room, leaving him with a small amount. Hungry and tired, he just laid out on the floor in a ball weeping. His fingernails dug into his scalp as he wailed. Exhaustion finally took over and he fell asleep once more.
The sound of the door opening made him wake up after only twenty minutes had passed. Two men walked into the cell and the prisoner scooted back away from them.
"Mr. Westman, how are you feeling today?"
Confusion crossed his face as he looked up at the two men. Not really recognizing either of them.
"You do know who you are, right Mr. Westman?" tested the man again.
Eyes flickering as if racking his brain for information that wasn't there, he finally murmured, "I am nobody," he looked back down at the ground.
"That's right, and we're here to keep you safe from yourself and from hurting others. It isn't safe for you outside of this room, so you just sit tight here. Do you understand?"
The prisoner nodded obediently, not bothering to put up a fight and trusting these men knew what they were talking about.
"Now Dr. Douglas is going to give you your shots for today," the man in the suit continued while the man who was Dr. Douglas stepped forward. The doctor took the man's veiny arm and injected the contents of the needle into him.
For a brief moment, there was a pricking feeling that made the man whimper. He was allowed to have his arm back after a bandage was taped down so he wouldn't be able to scratch it. The impulse to do so was great.
"Now, Mr. Westman, you mustn't mess with that bandage. You won't get better if you do," instructed the doctor.
The two men then left and only the sound of their muffled voices on the outside was heard.
The man slowly scratched at the area underneath the bandage, glaring at the thing that was obviously hiding something he knew was unpleasant.
He had the uneasy feeling that something had crawled up his veins during the doctor's visit, and was now in his blood.
His mind warped his vision as he saw lumps move underneath his skin and then something that looked like a fly, buzzing. It's little wings hit underneath his skin rapidly as it tried to escape.
Screaming and shrieking, he clawed at his skin and at the bandage with renewed energy, determined to get them out.
"I would say the treatment will be a brilliant success. Even at this stage, he has lost most of his senses with fear controlling him," grinned the man in the suit.
"Indeed. I would go so far as to say that no matter what, the treatment is irreversible. His fears will lead him to an early grave," cackled his companion
"Once we are through with him, he will be nothing more than a drooling imbecile incapable of not shitting himself."
The two shared a laugh before walking out of the secure section of the prison.
Ezra took a deep breath, trying to calm himself from his growing unease. He lay on his bed, staring upwards while his right arm was extended over the side of the bed towards Robbie.
The older man looked at him skeptical that Standish was completely in his right mind, and absolutely sure he wanted to go through with this.
"You know, Fed, as much as you want to get your friend out of here, I don't think breaking your bones in your right arm is a smart idea. Hell, you'd be fucked for life if they reset them wrong."
"I've broken bones before, Mr. Ripper. I know how unpleasant it is," Ezra drawled, still trying to calm himself. "Besides, while I am ambidextrous, I am more left dominate."
"Shit, this ain't one of those times where you don't see it coming," Robbie shook his head.
"Well, even when I don't, the pain is still a bitch. Could you get it over with or else I'll-"
Ezra was cut off by the sharp pain in his arm was soon numb before he was able to shove a part of his cover in his mouth to bite down on. The pain continued as one after another, Robbie broke his fingers.
Hot tears ran down Standish's face as he tried to distract himself. Muffled screams tore from his mouth as the treatment continued.
Cradling his broken arm and hand to his chest, Ezra walked with two guards to Section F. Though the pain was biting, and he really felt like passing out, Standish concentrated on the number and location of the security. Robbie wasn't exaggerating when he retold his time being there. The cameras and guards alone were enough to raise Ezra's curiosity of what went on back here. He counted three security doors he had passed through, each needing a clearance card.
The man attending his injuries had him sit on a table while he documented the injuries and took Ezra's statement on how he got them.
Since he was feeling a little revengeful, Ezra gave him the names and inmate numbers of all the men so far who tried to molest him, not leaving out his friend from chapel who tried to make a move on him.
While he sat on the observation table, Standish became alert and rigid at the recognition of a familiar voice. Ezra kept his head down, avoiding the man's gaze as they entered the room and began talking to the doctor who was working on him.
"Did you already visit your friend today, sir?" asked the doctor with a pleasant tone.
"Yes, he seems to be growing worse."
"That is a shame. While yes, he is a criminal, to suffer such a severe mental breakdown is unimaginable."
"Dr. Douglas is seeing what he can do here for him, but I'm afraid his situation is declining far faster than we are able to fix it," the unnamed speaker said with little sympathy while talking about a patient.
"Well I thank you for bringing in Dr. Douglas and I hope not all is lost for Mr. Westman," the doctor continued, unable to discern the false words from the other man.
There was a pause where Ezra was sure the man was looking him over before he left the room.
With an inaudible sigh, Ezra tried to remember where he had heard that voice from and why he got a bad feeling from what he had overheard just now.