323

The clock reads 3:23 a.m. and its faint green glow is the only light in the room. I can feel my muscles constricting still from the hours and hours of sleepless therapy strapped to that hard metal surface. The room had gotten so hot that my sweat sizzled on the table as it fell in slow drops off my neck.

But I couldn’t do it. No matter what they did I couldn’t speak. I could scream or yell if I wanted, but I’d forced myself not to do that either. It only gives Them more hope that They can find a way to force my brain to remember how to string words together and push them out of my throat.

As I lie now in the cool darkness of room 323, I doggedly wonder how many days I was in therapy this time. I’ve seen and done it all before, though I can’t remember the details. It might have been years ago for all I know. My arms and legs ache from lack of use. Hamilton explained that too me: by forcing me to stay absolutely still the tension inside me builds to a breaking point causing my vocal memory to return and enable me to speak.

In theory.

What ended up happening was that I broke the straps and the table and Reynolds got a black eye and Hamilton a split lip. Something worse happened to the other man….Stuart I think they called him. His face looked swollen and bloated and red. I felt bad. Stuart, like me, is under Their control. He might be a worker, but he’s really nothing more than a tool in Hamilton’s belt.

After that incident, They decided I’d had enough therapy for a while.

Room 323 is so cool and still that I can hear my own heartbeat. I can’t sleep in spite of my exhaustion, for few things scare me as much as the dream and can’t risk it coming tonight. Not tonight. Not after the past few days. I’m afraid to sleep for fear it will come.

I see shadows outside my door, and the key pad lights up green. A silhouette appears on the threshold, glaringly black against the glow of the hall lights.

  “Max, mind if I come in?” It’s My Nurse and she’s armed with juice and crackers. She flips on a small portable lamp, its soft glow revealing her cheerful smile. “So, here you are back from therapy!  I’ve missed you. Seems as if you’ve been gone forever, and yet not gone at all now that I see you back again. Here, drink up. Don’t mind if I have a bit too, do you? Didn’t think so.” She pauses to gulp down some juice out of a foam cup.  She hands me one and I taste the subtly sour-sweet red liquid.

  She prattles on. I try to listen, but my mind wanders, maybe because on some subconscious level I know she’s not really saying anything important anyway.

My thoughts drift, and I can feel myself forgetting again, losing sight of the last few days. Already the scenes in my head are growing foggy. I remember…. the dream. It’s all I can firmly grasp. Even the names I worked so hard to memorize are slipping away.

Ren something. And Ham. Ham…what? I can’t remember. Hamilton? I think. It’s fading fast. But always I remember the dream. I close my eyes and I see Her face. She’s calling but I can’t find her. I need to get Outside, to run free, to find the girl who never stops calling for me.