2. | PATIENT 37 [S. STILINSKI]

chapter thirteen: [connected]

"Sometimes following your heart means losing your mind."

       Indigo's eyes opened, meeting the same dark room. Had it worked? Was the week over? It felt like it. Her body was exhausted and felt like a million pounds.

   She took a deep breath and sat up, attempting to swing her legs over the edge. One of her legs yanked in restriction and Indigo snapped to look over, seeing her ankle attached to one of the poles at the foot of the bed. Her eyes widened at the barbed wire that connected the two, the wire actually going through her skin occasionally like stitches. She cried out as her body registered the wire, pain shooting up her leg in unbearable waves.

    Indigo cried out, already feeling tears brink her eyes. She gritted her teeth and felt the flash of her eyes as her pain tolerance continued. Her ankle shook along with the pain, only causing new pain. Indigo yelled out as she held her calf, shutting her eyes.

   Suddenly, she felt a cool breeze that almost made her shiver from lack of coat. Her eyes flew open, exposing her teary eyes to the wind. She blinked in confusion, as now she sat in the middle of the road, the barbed wire linked from her ankle to the cement. There was no getting out of this without ripping the hell out of her ankle.

Her breaths got heavier and she looked around, looking for anything that could be of any help to her.

     To her left, down the road, she found a shadow of a person sitting in the middle of the road. Almost sighing in relief, she let go of her calf and waved it in the air.

"Hey!" Her voice came out in a croak, a short breathless croak. "Hey, help!"

   Indigo was about to yell again, but the figure stood up, slowly making way to her. Another wave pain shot and Indigo groaned, dropping her head as she let out the noise of discomfort.

  She heard the scuff of shoes and looked up, seeing shoes at her face. Looking up, she found out who the figure was. Or- what.

  The same bandaged face, old brown jacket and hands dressed the same as the face. A small hole for a mouth was slightly blackened and sharp metal teeth sat, glinting.

    "What the hell are you?" Indigo eyed the stranger, breathing out her question.

The head titled as it stared at her, the shoulders wide and looked as if the thing was towering over her.

     "Indigo. . ." The voice whispered in a gruff voice, like chalk on pavement. Indigo's eyes narrowed.

 "Who the hell are you, and how do you know my name?" She snapped, not liking the feeling of being lesser to this- thing. She was trapped to the ground in pain and felt more vulnerable than ever.

    The thing crouched to her level and took one bandaged hand to the back of the head, pulling. She watched as it pulled the bandage from the back to the front, over and over, round and round. A pile of old bandages continued to grow on the ground and Indigo watched it, before she noticed the end of it drop.