The Boy in the Gray Hoodie

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I had never been outside before. But James promised me that today I could go. He said there was just one more test. I wanted to believe him, but his tone of voice was telling me something different. I always knew when he lied to me. And he always knew that I knew.

            Somehow I never failed to believe him anyway.

            "Insert your arm into the cylinder." James said.

            I slipped my arm inside the plastic hole and waited for the prick of a needle. It came with a surprising amount of pain. Must have been one of the larger needles this time, the ones they used to put things in me.

            The veins in my arm burned as something corrosive coursed through me. My stomach immediately began to complain as it tangled with my ribs and spine. My insides were turning painfully, twisting together and burning.

            "You'll probably feel a little discomfort." James said. His voice rang in my ears. I leaned my head against the glass separating us and let my breath fog it up.

            "It hurts," I whispered.

            "1 to 10?" James asked for the scale. He always did.

            "I-I don't know," I said, sucking in a breath as another spasm seized my insides. "F-five," I replied. It was a lie.

I was trying to be brave. I didn't want James to know he'd hurt me so much. His voice was always sadder when he found out I was weaker than the medicine they gave me.

            James made a throaty noise and I heard the click of a pen over the speaker. "It should pass. Do you feel it fading?" he asked. He wasn't overly concerned.

            I could feel my face pale. The hand that rested on my lap was white and clammy and I could feel beads of sweat gathering on my brow. I blinked, trying to catch my breath as another wave of pain coursed through my veins and then wracked my insides again. It was worse this time. Much worse.

            "I c-can't b-breathe," I said, pushing away from glass and pulling my arm from the cylinder. I stumbled backwards and toppled the chair over.

            "Put your arm back now," James called over the speaker system. There was concern in his voice this time. "I'll give you something for the pain."

            Dark spots appeared in my vision as I made my way across the room to the corner. Sinking to the floor, I wrapped my arms around myself and groaned inwardly, not a sound escaping my clenched jaw. My clothes were dampening with sweat and my body had begun to tremble. I just wanted the pain to go away.

            "I can't help you if you don't put your arm back in the cylinder," James said, his tone becoming more urgent. "You need to come back over here."

            I could barely shake my head in response as my cheek found the cold, hard floor. My body was jerking now, violently and uncontrollably. I tasted vomit and purged it from my mouth.

I couldn't breathe or see or hear. Everything had become a blur. Not even James' voice could penetrate the fog of pain infiltrating my convulsing body.

            A blur of light and dark shapes hovered over me and I felt one of them stick another needle in my arm. I barely felt it this time as I slipped away. The pain finally began to fade as the shapes disappeared and I lost consciousness.

I was secured to a table with my wrists and ankles bound in metal cuffs, IV's attached to every vein, liquids draining in and out of my body as I laid there in a drug-induced haze.