A/N: Welllll... I don't really know what to say for this chapter... but I hope you like it, I guess :P

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02 - 04 - 2089

Once I regain more of my strength, life begins to go back to normal, much to my chagrin. The feeding tube is taken out and I'm allowed to go back to my normal room. Everybody seems all too anxious to put what happened in the past. Except for me. 

I don't want to let go of my fight. I don't want to just give up on my answers. But I don't have anything else to try. Not eating literally was my last straw. Well, not that I actually have straws that I have been dishing out, but you get my meaning. 

I lower my charcoal pencil for the fiftieth time, all my inspiration gone. I can't come up with anything to draw and it is beginning to frustrate me. I've never had this problem before. On the contrary, usually I have too much inspiration.

My eyes drop from the wall to my lap. I'm wearing fresh clothes, thanks to Barr. A new white t-shirt and white lounge pants. Along with my usual white slippers. Everything white. So very... bland.

I see a black swipe on my pant leg, and upon closer inspection, realize that it is from my charcoal pencil. An idea spawns in my mind. I press the charcoal tip onto my white pant leg right next to the previous smudge. A piece of charcoal breaks off, and my hand moves to smudge it into the white fabric. 

The charcoal feels chalky and dirty beneath my fingers and rubs easily into the clean fabric. It creates a nice smoky effect as I add more charcoal and begin my artwork on my pants. I know they won't like what I'm doing, but that is exactly what motivates me to do it. The little things. Little ways I can rebel and show them I am not just what my name stands for. I'm not just some system to be manipulated. 

"Wow."

I jump at the breathless voice behind me. I spin around to see who it is, and am surprised to see a head of wild hair. Cade. I must have been so focused on my drawing that I tuned everything else out. Including the door.

"What are you doing here?" I demand. 

He's staring at my pant leg where a half formed cloud is smudged into the fabric. I cover it with my hands, feeling embarrassed for some reason. Cade raises his eyes and meets my gaze. He looks... sad. 

"It's beautiful," he says.

I place my charcoal pencil in my art box and get to my feet. I'm still a head shorter than Cade, but I feel better when I'm standing. For some reason I feel more confident. 

"I asked you a question," I say, praying my face doesn't give away what my heart is feeling. Praying that I don't turn red from embarrassment. Why do I always feel this way when he is around? I'm angry at him, but my heart is trying to tell me the opposite. I want to slap it. Figuratively, that is. 

"I wanted to see how you were doing." Cade looks at his feet, a strand of hair falling into his face. 

I resist the urge to tuck it behind his ear and cross my arms. "I'm fine." Why would he come to see me now after having been absent for several days? Why does he have to be so confusing? Ugh, why does life have to be so darn confusing?

Cade nods slowly several times. "Okay, good, good..." he trails off, clearly wanting to say more. 

I traipse over to my bed and plop down on it. He doesn't move. I watch him as he seems to struggle within himself. I don't say anything, neither does he. 

After exactly four minutes of silence (I counted), Cade clears his throat and speaks. "Gis, I know you're angry at me. And with good reason. But here's the truth: I didn't know all of what you heard either. I'm just an orderly here. I promise." His voice is a plea. A plea for forgiveness. 

"If you had known would you have told me?" I ask, raising my eyebrows slightly.

Cade swallows, staring at me. Two seconds go by. Three. "I'm sorry," he says. 

I'm torn. Half of me wants to forgive him. To be friends again. But the other half demands that I stay angry. That I don't believe him. 

In the end, both halves are still at war inside me so I don't say anything at all. And after several minutes, he takes the hint and leaves. The door shuts behind with a soft click.

Once he is gone, I feel even more conflicted. My heart wants comfort, friendship. My spirit says no. Says that he is a liar and will hurt me. That he is just pretending.

I don't know what to listen to.

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I wake up as Barr enters my room. I hadn't realized I'd fallen asleep, but my mind and body feel better rested now. 

"Time to go," Barr ushers me to the door. I stretch, taking my time to get out of bed. He rolls his eyes and sighs. I lower my legs over the side of the bed and stand, stretching my legs as I go. 

"Gis, let's go," Barr says, irritated. He runs a hand through his hair, and it looks like he's trying not to pull it out.

I take my time walking over to him, ignoring his frustrated attempts to get me to hurry up. I'm not in the mood to be cooperative. Nor will I ever be again for them. 

We head down the halls, silence as our companion. Barr tries to start a conversation, but I won't have it. I ignore all his attempts at getting me to speak, keeping my mouth locked tight.

When we arrive at my usual room, Barr drops me off at the door instead of coming in with me. I almost ask him where he is going, but hold back just in time. I enter the room, not looking back.

The room is empty. No Doctor Acosta. No scientists. No other doctors or nurses or orderlies. 

I take a seat on the examination table, wondering what is going on. This doesn't usually happen where I am alone in here. My legs swing off the bed, back and forth over and over again. I fiddle with my dirty pant leg, brushing at the fabric. 

"Lie down, Gis." The door opens and Doctor Acosta storms in, not wasting any time with formalities. I do as she says, but keep a watchful eye on my surroundings and her.  

Doctor Acosta sets her A-book down on her desk and approaches me. She doesn't even look at me as she takes me hands and straps me to the table. I let her, knowing that if I fight it will only make things worse for me. 

Once she is done, she grabs a needle and injects it into my vein after wiping my arm clean. Blood travels down the tube connected into a large glass vial where it begins to collect. Doctor Acosta attaches the vial to the side of the bed and sits down at her desk. 

I watch as my blood drips into the vial, drop by drop. It fills up quickly, then Doctor Acosta replaces it with a fresh vial before returning to her desk. 

She still hasn't said a word to me. I wish she would break the silence so I can ask her what she is doing. But she holds fast to her silence, so I force myself to relax.

The door opens right as Doctor Acosta replaces the vial for the fifth time. Barr enters, carrying a tray with a bottle of liquid and a syringe. He doesn't look over at me as he walks towards the doctor.

"I got it," he says. "How many milligrams did you want me to give her?"

"I'm busy," Doctor Acosta snaps, not even turning to look at him. "Just enough to knock her out."

This time I do break my silence vow. "What are you doing?" I demand, raising my head up to look at her. 

Big mistake.

The movement causes the room to spin around me. Bile rises up my esophagus, and I barely keep it down. It must be from how much blood she is taking, is all I can figure out. 

I feel Barr's fingers on my arm and try to snatch them away, but in my confusion I forget that I'm strapped down. My arm doesn't go anywhere.

There is a prick in the crook of my arm then a cool, tingling sensation that floods my body. I blink, trying to clear my vision, feeling absolutely frustrated at myself. 

"What did you give me?" I ask, my words slurring some. I can already tell what Barr injected before he can even answer. 

Time to rest, I think before fading away. 

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