From Murder to Dust

ATE - 17 - Brother

Ink had kept me for thirty-five years and nine months. At this point, there was no hope; there was no use to hope anymore. I knew that. Hope was just another unseen thing that had left me long ago; in its place was pain. For all intents and purposes, pain was my new hope. There was so much of it that I didn't feel it anymore. Death was painless. Breaking every bone in my body had no effect. Ink's newest paint was ineffective. I was incapable of feeling any kind of pain anymore; actually, mental pain still persisted, but that was different. Pain now felt like a small tickle; if I wanted to, I could measure the amount of pain that was being afflicted, but I was no longer affected. I supposed that my pain receptors had simply given up. When Ink realized that, he had a slight twinge of panic before gently calming himself down and formulating a plan. He would simply figure out what had happened to me through intensive study for a day; today was the day. As much as I wanted to be killed forever or set free, I knew that Ink would want to keep me around for his own reasons, and I still wasn't immune to his many types of mental torture, which were arguably worse than physical pain. I had just woken up.

"Good morning, Dusty!" Ink greeted. 

"Good morning." I picked up my Hope. 

"You're going to be going to the doctor today! Isn't that fun?"

"Yeah."

"Let me ask you..do you still love your brother?"

"Yes."

"Very well. The doctor will see you at noon, which means we have a few hours..I can't torture you until we find out what's wrong with you, so let's just play a simple game!"

Ink took my Hope from me and shut my eyesockets; he wanted to play "find Dust's Hope," apparently. Actually, I didn't think Ink was really that bad - didn't I? He was just misunderstood. He may have tortured a lot of people, including me, but that didn't make him bad - yes, it did - per se; it only made him misguided. If someone were to help him to be a better person, I believed he could do it - I doubted it - and perhaps then, he would be nicer. My soul had been feeling weird lately; I didn't know what it was. Ink said it was probably all the indoor air; he decided to take me on walks once a week to clear it up - he probably poisoned me..I didn't want it to be me..

"Okay, Dusty!" Ink let me open my eyesockets. "Go find it!"

"Okay." I looked around for my Hope; it was under Ink's dresser. 

"Good job, Dusty!" Ink patted my skull, which made me laugh; I really liked that. "Do you want to play more?"

I nodded; it was actually rather fun - was I crazy?! Fun?!

"All right!" Ink closed my eyesockets.

 The next couple hours were filled with repetitive games, but I didn't mind - it wasn't like I was being tortured. The repetition didn't bother me much, really; I preferred repetition over pain, even if I couldn't feel pain anymore, for some reason. Ink seemed to enjoy it too, which was good - I shouldn't have been thinking like that! - since I assumed that he didn't really have much fun, being a dictator. When the clock turned to 11:50 A.M., Ink stopped our games and gave me back my Hope.

"Okay, Dusty!" Ink giggled. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah." I held my Hope close.

"All right! Stay close, Dusty!"

"Okay." 

Ink proceeded to lead me out into the hallways, where we would take a five minute walk to the hospital section of the compound; I hadn't been there before, and I wondered what it looked like. When we arrived, Ink made me sit in a seat by the entrance while he made sure that everything was prepared. As I looked around, I found that it looked like a normal hospital; that was interesting, somewhat. I waited for roughly seven minutes holding my Hope as Ink talked to some doctors. They seemed to look at me as if I was murdering everyone in the room as he spoke; I didn't understand that. When Ink finished, the group of three doctors and a dictator approached me; the doctors seemed nervous.