The Boy in the Gray Hoodie

13...

13...

James brought me dinner that night. It was food I had never tasted before. I liked it, but I was still too sick from the medicine he'd given me to eat much of it. Just a few bites was all I could manage before I started to fall asleep.

"Tomorrow I want you up and moving around." James said as he took the plate away from me. "Go easy on those bruised ribs, but at least get out of bed."

He took the plate out and came back with a syringe. I was too tired and sore to be nervous. He hadn't given me anything that hurt since the last night at the lab. Since then the only medicine he'd injected me with had been to help me sleep, although this time that wasn't really necessary. I was already exhausted.

"I was in that wreck too." James said as the needle sunk into my skin. He didn't put it in too deep this time. I was grateful for that. "I've already been down to the car, on this sore leg and everything. Pam and I brought my stuff into the house this morning. I think it's not too much to ask that you get out of bed and do your normal routine, since I've given you extra time to recover."

I watched him silently, allowing myself to nod off instead of answering. He was talking about the exercises Marley had instructed me to do. They weren't all that strenuous—just running in place, lunges, pushups—anything that could be done in a small space to keep my body healthy. I would try to start doing them again tomorrow, like James wanted me to.

"I'm leaving for town in the morning, but I'll be back in the afternoon. Until then, you stay in this room, or the bathroom, understand? I don't want you wandering around the house. No one is ready for that yet." James said, capping the syringe and putting it in his pocket. "When I come back, we'll eat dinner downstairs."

I said nothing, unable to talk and keep my eyes open at the same time. The medicine he'd given me hadn't even started working yet. When it finally did, I slipped into a heavy, dreamless slumber. James left the room and shut the door, not bothering to wait for me to respond.

Pale sunlight streamed in through the window next to my bed, causing me to squint as I finally regained consciousness from the night before. It was strange to wake up with different light every morning. Before, in my old room, the light had always been the same: one fluorescent on at night when I slept, two on during the day when I was awake. It was constant like that there. But here, everything was different. The only thing constant in this place was the pain in my chest and head from the crash.

I pushed the blankets off my legs and sat up to face the window with my feet on the wood floor. The shade over the glass blocked out some of the light, but most of it shined through the gaps between the tan-colored plastic slats. I wanted to push them aside and look out the window, to see in the light what I had been unable to see in the darkness that first night.

I wanted to see outside.

The bed creaked when I got up, making me pause and glance toward the door. For a second, I listened for the speakers to click on. Did they have a speaker system here? I wondered.

Cringing under the strain of my bruised and broken ribs, I searched the room for any small black spheres resembling the cameras in the lab. I saw none. No one was watching. No one knew what I was doing. No one could see me. Right then, in that moment, I was completely alone.

A feeling of desperation came over me and I stumbled over to the door, hitting it once with my fist like I had done with the mirror. But this time my hand against the wood made a loud sound. Flinching, I drew back, afraid of what might happen next.

Nothing happened. No one came.

Inching forward, I hit the door again and flinched at the loud bang. Still, no one came. I wanted to stop and return to the bed. My ribs were hurting so badly I wanted to lie down and go back to sleep. But I couldn't stand the thought of being alone in this room, with no one watching. Someone was always watching. That's how things were supposed to be.