Sean held his hand over the wound, blood seeping through his fingers as he looked at his brother. "Henrik! Fucking do something! Please!"

"I'm trying! Zhe injection should've stopped zhe blood flow! I don't understand." Henrik pulled down his blood-soaked surgical mask, eyeing the deep gash Sean held desperately. "Ve're going to need stitches. Ve'll have to close it before more blood escapes. If ve lose more vhile zhe process takes place... Zhere's a very possible chance of d—"

"Don't you fucking say it."

"Sean—"

"Don't. Just do it. I won't lose him. Do you understand me? I won't."

"Okay."

-

It was nightfall, and Chase had the sheet draped around his shoulders, his frail and numb fingers grasping the fabric closed. He trembled with every step, ambling out of his cell, barely able to keep himself upright, his feet scraping against the frigid floor tiles.

"Oh, take your time."

Chase's body jerked forward at the voice of the stranger, and he glared into the shadows of his room. "Sh-Shut up."

"Sorry, but the patrols will be back soon. We can't-- You can't waste any more time."

"Don't you think I know that?" Chase said, trying to keep his voice from quivering. "I'm going as fast as my numb legs can carry me."

The stranger stayed silent this time, and Chase leaned against the wall to the right of his cell, slowly walking down the hallway, a green hue illuminating the way.
"If you were stuck in there with me, how did you unlock the door?"

No response.

"F--"

"Be quiet."

"Excuse--"

"I promise this will be the last time you draw a free breath."

Chase gritted his teeth, continuing to walk, but able to hear the footsteps now, not far down the same way he was wandering. His eyes widened, about to speak when he noticed the grayish-black smoke leading toward the vent cover beside him.

He got down on one knee, removing his hand from the blanket and pulling on the screen, half of it coming loose, but the rest wouldn't budge.

"There." The stranger said.

Chase's eyes scanned over the cover, spotting the loose and rusted bolt keeping it in place, the footsteps growing louder with each second he wasted. "Son of a bitch..." He grabbed at it, trying his luck at unscrewing it, a burning sensation in the tips of his fingers.

"You're wasting time again."

The screw finally came loose with a single, sharp pull, and he quickly moved the cover aside, crawling into the vent and putting it back in place just as a pair of boots came into view. They had stopped, right in front of his hiding place, facing to the left of him.

Chase could hear the stranger's light-hearted laugh, his breath hitching. But the boots kept a steady pace again, disappearing down the hall. After a few minutes of tantalizing silence, he turned around, straining to see what lay beyond thick sheets of the dark he'd just entered.

How could they not hear his laugh? He thought, crawling farther into the depths. "Where's this going to take me, dude?"

"The first floor."

"There are floors?"

"Keep your voice down."

Chase sighed and licked his chapped lips, trying to keep his movement to a minimum, but the popping from the vent made him paranoid. Every time he'd move, a loud snap would sound. He could hear it over the whooshing his head.

All he wanted to do was stop and go back, closing his eyes, his breathing heavy, a weight on his chest.

"I'd advise you to keep your eyes open; the drop can be unexpected--"

"The wh—" Chase yelled, falling through the vent and landing on his back. His ears were ringing, and his vision doubled, sharp pain in the back of his head. "I hurt everywhere..."

"I told you."

"Shut up, dude."

"As you wish."

Chase stood up, but lost his footing and came crashing into a table; the wind knocked out of him as he struggled to catch his breath. He winced, knowing there would be bruises, a dull, throbbing ache in his midsection. "Today is just... Today is just not my day."

"It would appear that way."

He turned his head, looking back at the man who spoke. The therapist stood behind him, leaning against the wall. "Although I am curious. Who were you talking to? Just now."

"None of your damn business."

"I think it is."

"Nothing is standing in the way of me breaking your arm right now. I suggest you let me leave. Right now."

"I can't let you do that." The therapist pulled out a syringe from his pocket, grinning. "Now walk on over to me, and we can be civil about all this, huh? Your brother wants to see you better again."

"Does he even know what you've done to me?"

"Not quite, but he'll understand once I show him how you'll eventually be."

"I'll kill you."

"You're welcome to try."

Chase flung himself at the man, letting out a cry. Truthfully, he was terrified. He didn't want to change. Not like that. He felt fine just the way he was, and if in an ideal world, in this psycho's mind, was to make him perfect, then he didn't want it.

Perfect wasn't possible.

Perfect couldn't salvage his marriage.

Perfect wouldn't give him his children.

Perfect wouldn't save him.

Chase fell onto him, grabbing the man's wrist in one hand, finally catching a glimpse of the name on his shift. "You can't!"

"You'll be fine, I promise!"

"No, I won't!"

Dr. Greene flipped them over, straddling Chase's waist and punching him, trying to force his hand down, the needle end exposed, a clear liquid dripping from the point. "Just a nap! You'll feel better!"

Chase's face and ribs were in agony, a burning heat building up, and he reached forward with his other hand, placing it on the syringe and gradually pushing it toward the Therapist instead. "Get off me!"

"No, wait--"

One last forced movement and Dr. Greene lost his grip, his screams ripping through the air as the needle glided straight through his left eye, shoving it farther into his skull, blood spurting from the incision as Chase pushed him onto his back, quickly standing up and moving before Greene could grab his ankle as a last-ditch effort.

After a few horrific moments, all motion stopped, and he was dead.

Chase couldn't get himself to feel anything, breathing heavily, his jaw set as he wiped the blood off his face. "Read that, motherfucker."