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They’re not sure what drove them into doing this in the first place.
Exhaling lightly, the warden’s hand rested upon their fellow guard’s head, gently scratching his ears. A rare occurrence, as no indignation sputtered from the rabbit. Es thought he might’ve fallen asleep.
Due to Jackalope not being able to enter Es’ room, they came up with the bright idea of fetching him themselves. There had been a fair amount of shouting, and afterwards teasing that seemed a little more than just lighthearted that made them want to march right back and plop him where he used to be.
But, Es preserved, and now they can spend their afternoon with at least a fair amount of comfort. Jackalope’s nails, which they had only cut a week ago and had already grown back, were digging into their legs, which also caused a fair amount of discomfort.
The feeling of fur against their skin was nice, though. Es can’t remember any other time they’ve felt as much peace as when they get to pet Jackalope. Though, maybe that bar was already a bit low, only having Milgram to go off of.
A sudden jolt of the not-rabbit’s head, rapidly brushing their leg made Es gasp, banging their knee against their coffee table and sending Jackalope sprawling to the floor.
He woke with a start, an onslaught of profanities and complaining and shouts that shouldn’t ever be able to come from an animal.
Es didn’t hear him though.
They were grasping the inner side of their leg, eyes wide and chest heaving. He didn’t scratch them, so what was wrong? What was wrong with them? What was happening?
A touch on their leg, a flick of a finger, a hand knocking against their skin, a
And just like that, it was over. Their vision cleared, their breath came back, but it seemed their hearing was still faulty.
Or rather, it wasn’t. Jackalope had ceased his yelling, and was giving Es that unsettling, probing look whenever they did something he found pitiful. They could detect a bit of malice in his eyes, too, though not towards them. Finally, he spoke.
“Well, who knew you were ticklish, huh?”
The interrogation hadn’t started out like this, so how did it deteriorate so fast?
They can’t even remember what 04 had said, their head was filled with panicked, rushed thoughts, not to mention how it hurt, not to mention the ceaseless murmuring from voices that didn’t sound like them layered on top of it all. There always seemed to be a couple whispers in their head, and although the voices were individually quiet, the sheer number of them was extremely overwhelming.
If they let themselves fall too far, they’ll start to feel ghostly touches and cold caresses on their face and arms and legs and
“Prison guard, what’s wrong? Prison guard…!”
Something warmer touched them. Hands laid on both shoulders. Even through the fabric, they felt how warm Muu’s hands were. Something that should’ve grounded them, but
“Hey, prison guard…!”
At least the cold was fake at least it was only a shiver at least it wasn’t real at least it wasn’t
“ Shut up! Don’t touch me!”
And they’re stumbling back and their hands immediately shoot up to where the prisoner’s had reached and they can’t breathe anymore
Es hears sobbing and what might be a yell but they can’t distinguish it from their own ragged breathing and the muttering that seemed to grow louder and
soft, small footsteps.
It stops, again. They felt as if they could cry in relief as they watch a familiar shadow appear in the room.
It slowly turns to annoyance as Jackalope continues asking “Are you okay?” or “You’re fine to keep going?” in newly worded ways every time they reply “Yes.”
Once what should’ve been the final “Yeah, I’m fine.” rings out, Jackalope turns around again.
“Next time, try to keep your knee-jerk reactions to yourselves, yeah?”
Irritation seeps into their voice. “Got it.”
“Because, I mean—“
“Yeah, I’ve got it.”
Watching as the rabbit hops away, Es turned their attention back to a very baffled looking prisoner.
Yourselves goes unnoticed by one of them.
Prisoner 05 was a frustrating man.
Since he first opened his mouth, Es knew they would not enjoy this interrogation.
And their inferring skills were, of course, correct. They didn’t like this murderer in the slightest.
“…I’m sure that it must take a toll on you emotionally as well. So, please do your best.”
Es felt a gloved hand lay awkwardly on their forehead, then slide under their hat to make it’s way to their head.
And really, they can’t stop the disgust that makes its way through their blood.
Unlike the episode in 04’s interrogation, they don’t feel like a cornered animal. They don’t feel faintly terrified of something they can’t remember, they don’t feel as though they should tear off the skin where contact was made.
They feel an uncomfortable, waxy fabric nested in their hair, and they feel furious.
“I see. Oh, I see now.”
Watching the doctor’s face morph into confusion and concern didn’t abate their anger. They needed to do something to clear their head again.
One kick later, Shidou is trying to stand up again, cradling his foot.
“Phew, I feel so much better now.”
Es sees his face flicker for a second. A surprised expression, then narrowing his eyes, seemingly contemplating something, before a look of grim realization crossed his face.
Of what, Es didn’t know.
“S-suddenly kicking my shin like that… wasn’t very nice of you…”
Prisoner 07’s interrogation was about to commence, so Es walked into the room, not quite sure of what to expect.
“Sorry for the wait, Prisoner no.7, Kazui… Hm?”
They saw him standing off to the side of them, beginning to walk closer.
“Excuse me.”
Rough hands slid over their arms, locking them into position. Es couldn’t stop the burst of panic that leaked into their voice.
“W-what?!”
And they need him off .
They barely register what had happened, what Kazui was saying, their mind rooted only on the tight grip and loss of movement and the sick feeling of familiarity when they can’t possibly remember when this had happened before in Milgram.
Such primal fear should’ve caused them to yell out, to scream, to cry, to at least attempt to shove him off but
they remained paralyzed, eyes wide, and felt every single voice in their head erupt into agitate d whispering, yet they couldn’t make out a single word.
“…before.”
“familiar…”
“…happening again.”
“…alright.”
“…safe.”
“not…”
“…-s intention…”
“…told you…”
“…afraid.”
A desperate attempt at distraction, and then they felt those hands begin to loosen, and a sound of confusion from their restraint, before it all melted away.
“Prisoner no.7, Kazui…! Do you understand the meaning of what you’ve just done?! Haah…”
They try to ignore the feeling of imprints of fingers on their arms for the rest of the interrogation.
The feeling of skin-on-skin contact made them want to gag.
The hug was loose, yet Es had never felt more trapped.
Es knew. Es knew how undignified they had been their entire time as warden. Losing it over the slightest bit of touch. Wanting to scratch the skin raw until it reformed and they were clean again.
“…let go…”
Kotoko didn’t let go. She was saying something. She was saying something and they had to listen, but—
Weak… you’re too weak…
With that fragile body of yours, you can’t protect anyone. You can’t save anyone…
All imperfect.
They tried not to choke on a sob, they were uselessly trying to push Kotoko off, they needed her to let go.
Too weak to protect themselves, too weak to fight, all they could do was say no, which always went unheard.
A sour taste had made its way to their mouth, and despite clawing at Kotoko’s arms, they felt, very lightly, a sense of safety.
A safety that was burrowed beneath the desire to be free of a sinner’s touch. A safety that was the only thing keeping them level.
Despite it, despite everything, Kotoko still made them feel safe. An uneasy, fragile safety.
Es had learned once, long ago, when to give up. When to stop. Eyes dimming, they quietly spoke.
“I see… that Milgram…”
A loud ringing broke that train of thought.
No, no, even when one gives up, they regain the fire to keep on fighting.
That futile fighting when it happens again, and giving up again, and wanting it to stop, and fighting, and stopping, and fighting and…
Es tore themselves free of Kotoko’s grasp, gasping as they did so. The force with which they pushed themselves off made them fall. They had grasped so tightly onto their own arms that white lines had been left behind.
“What are you doing, hurting yourself like this? Are you sane?”
A strong sense of This has happened before enveloped them, as they glared at another sinner.