"Too bright." His voice was rough. Distant. Like he was talking from somewhere far away. "Couldn't move."
He wasn't telling me a story.
He was reliving it.
"Stone—"
"Don't." His hand came up. Shaking. "Just... let me."
I closed my mouth. Waited.
The words came slowly. Fragments. Pieces of something shattered that he was trying to hold together long enough to show me.
"Woke up. Didn't know where." His breathing quickened. "Tried to move. Couldn't."
I stayed still. Listened.
"Straps. Wrists. Ankles." He swallowed hard. "Chest. Couldn't breathe right. Too tight."
His eyes were open but he wasn't seeing his room. He was somewhere else. Somewhere worse.
"Lights. Fluorescent. Never turned off." A shudder ran through him. "Everything smelled... clean. Sharp. Like chemicals."
I knew that smell. The Healing Center had hints of it. Antiseptic. Sterile.
But the way he said it made it sound like poison.
"There was a table."
Stone's voice had steadied. Gone flat. The kind of flat that meant he was dissociating, putting distance between himself and the memories so he could get the words out.
"Metal. Cold. I could feel it through—" He stopped. Started again. "I was on it when I woke up. Restraints already there. Already fastened."
His hands gripped his knees.
"Wasn't a medical room. I thought it was at first. Thought maybe I'd been hurt, maybe they were helping." A bitter sound escaped him. Almost a laugh. "But the restraints were already there. Before I woke up. They knew. They knew I'd fight."
My stomach turned.
"It was prepared," he said. "The room. The table. The straps. All of it. Prepared for me."
"People came."
He was staring at the wall now. Through it.
"Coats. White coats. Three of them. Maybe four. They moved around me. Talked to each other."
His jaw tightened.
"Not to me. Never to me. Like I wasn't there. Like I was—" He searched for the word. "Furniture."
I felt sick.
"They didn't use a name. Didn't call me anything. Just 'the subject.' Or numbers. I don't remember the numbers." His voice cracked. "They never looked at my face. Not once. Not even when I screamed."
The bond between us ached with his pain. I wanted to go to him. Wanted to wrap my arms around him and pull him out of this nightmare.
I stayed where I was. He needed to finish.
