Gaining Innocence

Hospital (CH:27)

CHAPTER 27:

There was a child, a child.

Among the surrounding trees, the boy crouched, pale hands hiding his face out of sight except for his black hair. Crying and moaning, loud and clear. Lost. Scared. The little frame shuddered as each sob came out one after another. The chain chaining the child's wrists and ankles sounding to the movement.

Henrikas couldn't get close. Still. Always a step back, tense fingers are left to catch the air.

Move. Move.

Beside the boy, two darker shadows huddled, watched and waited. They were small, the same height as the child. Spots of gloom of darkness stretched toward the boy, caressing the smooth, unblemished skin. The gesture was meant to be comforting, because the sobs subsided when touched.

They did not stain it.

The boy noticed Henrikas then, head tilted up and faceless. Blank and fuzzy instead of eyes, mouth and nose.

Henrikas blinked slowly. His eyelids felt sluggish with each flutter. Heavy. His body leaned on his axis, turning him upside down and floating.

Before the boy disappeared into his vision, he could make out the curve of his lips. They were opened, but there was no sound.

And then, it flew away again.

~ X ~

He remembered being burned.

Claws ripping flesh on his back, ripping him apart. Insistent and relentless. Relentless.

He remembered the sound of leather hitting meat, echoing off the dull dark walls of the basement. A fiery, searing pain lashes his skin, taking his breath away. It itched. Numb.

He remembered the heat.

Water cascaded over the burning, torn skin. The liquid relieved pain as a soothing, calming, healing balm. Henrikas recalled being so relieved that he cried.

He remembered being treated.

Strong hands anchored him. A promise of safety and home. Aromas of lavender and mint, salty taste of the ocean, morning dew and copper. Pungent odor of bile. Burned throat A cold hand raking through her damp hair. Soft murmurs of tranquility.

Hot.

He remembered being on fire, burning even hotter and hotter. Voices were raised and activities stirred. There was someone calling him, he realized. He was burning again, the claws ripping through his body.

And then it changed. Cold Cold . His teeth were chattering. He thought of gasping for air. He drowned.

He remembered ... nothing.

~ X ~

Without waiting for the last of his students to leave the lecture room, Will dialed Hannibal's number the entire time as he stuffed the papers into the briefcase.

It rang once before the other end of the receiver answered.

"How is he?" Will asked, demanded, instead of saying hello.

"Good night, Will," Hannibal replied instead. There was a rustle in the background as if Hannibal was changing hands to hear better. "Herkus is fine. He has just been admitted to a room."

"Right now?" Will frowned, glancing at his watch, it was nearly 8:00 PM, and he felt panic rising at the implication. "What happened?"

"His temperature went up again."