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Cold. Freezing cold, like ice, and a thick wetness clinging to his body. He can't move, can't breathe. Oh god, he can't breathe. It's all caught up in his chest, and his lungs feel like they're about to explode. Then something presses at his lips, something plastic and round. He tries to keep his mouth shut, but his body just can't hold it, forces open his mouth to take a deep breath of whatever cold wetness is pressing in on him, and the plastic tube shoves itself inside his mouth sharply. He slams his lips shut around it and breathes in forcefully. Air blows out from its opening, into his aching lungs. It tastes... sweet. Wrong, but he can't hold his breath forever, can't stop the chemically stinging air from pouring into his mouth unless he wants to suffocate.
He breathes in again, shallower, and feels it pricking at the back of his throat when he does. Slowly, he starts to come to his senses. The world around him is still dark and tinged slightly blue, or purple? He can't tell. Everything is just so fuzzy. Like he's watching a video at 140p, all grainy and distorted. There's a high, electronic buzzing sound around him that seems to come from everywhere; if he strains his ears, he can make out a faint gurgling beneath it, like a water filter.
His arms won't move. It's not a feeling like they're being held in place, more like he just can't control them. No matter how hard he tries, his brain refuses to send the necessary signals. It's terrifying, like he isn't in control of himself. Well, he isn't.
Suddenly he hears something new, a distant click, then the sound of metal scraping against metal. Then, light. Blinding white in its intensity on his low-quality eyesight, and he has to blink away the brilliant spots that appear in his vision. A shadow passes in front of him, in front of the thing he's contained in, because he can make out that much: a room around him, filled with more blinking lights and gray blobs that they are attached to. The whole room seems cast in that eerie pale purple glow, including the figure now standing directly in front of his tank.
"...?" The figure had said something, but he couldn't understand it. It had just sounded like noise. It had the rising intonation of a question, and through his blurry eyes, he can see impatience written all over the figure's body.
"...?! ... Lily ...?" Wait! He recognizes that word, at the very least. But why would the figure be talking about... unless it had gotten her too. There are other tanks in the room, two that he can see, though he can't make out anything inside them. What if one of them is holding Lily? But he couldn't—he was supposed to protect her. And he couldn't do that. He can't protect her, not trapped in a tank with a tube down his throat.
Shaking its head, the figure moved away, towards a group of the blinking lights. It did something to them, and he suddenly tasted the air rushing out of the tube change from sickly sweet to slightly metallic. Frantically, he tries to rip it out of his mouth, but his limbs still won't respond. He shakes his head violently, thrashes as much of his body as he can, but he can already feel the chemical taking effect. His thrashing slows, his body coming to a halt, and his eyes slowly drift shut.
***
He doesn't wake up, not really. Just drifts back and forth between semiconscious and unconscious, a fever dream of reality playing across his mind both asleep and half-lucid. The figure returns often, and either studies the blinking lights or the tanks. At one point, he's almost certain the figure takes him out of the tank, lays him out on a table and cuts him open. But when he wakes up again, he can't see any evidence of it. Things fill up the tanks next to him, and even through his dazed state he can tell their gross deformations, inhumanly pale flesh. They thrash, at first. Eventually, though, they go limp. Is that how he looks? He hopes not. His eyes slowly drift shut.
***
Crashing. A banging noise coming from... where? Above him, he thinks. It feels weird. The thinking, that is. Somehow, his mind feels almost entirely lucid for the first time in however long. The sound happens again, louder this time, and suddenly the room is once more flooded in blinding light. He jerks back reflexively, then gawks at the motion he feels in his arms. Which is to say, he can feel his arms. He almost laughs, but the harsh pull of the tube in his throat dissuades him.
In the light, he sees something. Two shapes, smaller than the figure, clambering down... the wall? His eyes can't make out any more detail than a rough purple-gray that they are descending. They are both colored in blue, and land on the floor soundly. They face him, standing stock-still. One of them steps forward tentatively, as if scared. They move even closer, eyes wide. Puts their hand on the glass of his tank.
"Billy..." they choke out. His eyes go wide. Lily! He tries to place his hand against hers, but it won't move. No, no, no no! Let me out, get me out, Lily please get me out. She turns to the other figure—the other kid—and says something he doesn't understand. The kid nods in response and runs over to the blinking lights. They press a button, and the tank next to his lights up. For the first time, he can really, truly make out what the thing looks like. It's terrifying. The kid presses another button and the lit-up tank is painted in red as a shrill scream echoes out. If he could, he would flinch. A third button, and his tank is lit up. It's a little painful to his eyes, but not as painful as being blended up into blood.
A fourth button press. The tube wriggles in his throat, then slithers out. For a second, he's afraid he'll end up like the monster, but the tank suddenly pulses green as the purple liquid is replaced with a thicker, gooier substance. He feels it throbbing around his body, then it almost... sinks inside of him, like he's absorbing it. And it hurts. Oh god, it hurts so much. Every part of his body tears apart and stitches back together in a slightly different arrangement. If he was able to, he would scream.
And then the pain is gone and he feels... alive. He is alive. His heart beats loudly in his ear; he hadn't even realized that it had stopped. He falls to the floor of the tank, now drained of liquid. His muscles are too weak to move, to break out. His eyes, shut tight from the pain, flutter open at the sound of metal scraping metal.
No. The figure, the principal, climbing down the ladder. Quietly, and Lily and the kid are too distracted to notice. A gun. A gun, long and silver, clenched tight in the right hand. He has to fight, he has to protect Lily—but he can't move. He screws his eyes shut. He can't do anything.
Talking. The principal is talking, in that deep, hateful voice. He won't be afraid, he won't be afraid. Lily says something. No, no, no Lily stop talking don't make him angry.
The whir of machinery. Something opening, the splash of liquid against stone floor. A scream, deep. The... principal? Screaming. Gunshots: one, two, three. Then, silence. Fearful, anxious, he peels his eyes open slowly. The first he sees is more something he doesn't see. The principal is gone. The tank next to him is empty. His tank is open. The glass prison encasing him is gone. Lily is standing over him, the kid slightly behind her, looking vaguely awkward.
There are tears in her eyes. She found him. Saved him. Protected him.
All he can say: "Lily."