Archive of Our Own

*Hour One*: 7AM
Every morning when I wake up, at least, every morning since I started working in the hospital, I have this sort of automatic checklist in my head, of all the things I need to do before lunch. They’re usually the same things every morning. Choose my parts, get dressed, take my meds, grab some coffee from the break room and a granola bar or something, make coffee for Caine, make breakfast for Pomni, Ragatha, Gangle, and Jax, and wake them all up and make sure they’re all eating in the communal area before it gets cold, and that they take their own morning meds. I have to keep all these little checklists and reminders in my brain, like, Jax can’t have anything with peanuts in it, Ragatha shouldn’t be allowed back in her own room alone until an hour after she eats or else she could purge and her medicine won’t digest right, Pomni refuses to eat eggs but is ok with soggy cereals, and Gangle absolutely cannot take her meds before she eats. It’s like I give myself a quick mental rundown of all of that before my feet even hit the floor. It helps me to keep things the way they need to be, to not forget important crap like that. Then usually, Caine takes over on some “adventure”, or whatever, and I can chill out and do paperwork and stuff. Sometimes there are additional things, like Ragatha or Jax or Gangle needing help getting dressed, or a surgery or some extra paperwork Caine or Abel wants filed, but otherwise, we pretty much stick to the same exact routine.
Or, well, we did.
Ever since Jax abstracted, things have been a mess. I still try what I can to keep us to our schedule, waking up everyone and making breakfast and double checking that everybody took their medicine, but Caine’s been just completely *absent*, focusing all his energy on taking care of and studying Jax. Ragatha’s been having meltdowns, like, every other day, and Pomni…
Pomni.
I groan and bury my face in my hands again. I’ve already been sitting up on my bed looking down at the floor for like, fifteen minutes already.
When I try to search through my brain for the usual morning run-down, the schedule and all the facts I need to remember, all I’m able to find is, in big, bright red lettering:
*Pomni*.
Shit. Fuck. Shit shit fuck damn it shit—(hey, at least I’m still able to swear in my internal monologue.) I had gone to bed last night in hopes it would clear my head, and help me figure out what to say to her. But now I’m just at even more of a loss.
I can’t just sit here and think forever, though. There are people who need me. Ragatha, Gangle. I guess not Pomni, but…but I’ll have to face her one way or another. I finally manage to drag myself up out of bed, trudging across the floor to the chest of my parts. I don’t have time to care about this. Or, I guess, I don’t have the capacity. Maybe everything would suck a little less if my body felt more like *my body* and less like some random *thing* I was just operating, like the way you *drive* a *car*, but I don’t have the type of energy to be able to mix and match and test my parts until I find something that feels right today. All that shit’ll just have to wait. I kind of just keep the arms and legs I already had in and throw on the usual wooden bead maze and plastic cog antennae. I avoid looking at the mirror, knowing it’ll just send a slimy feeling of disgust down my spine. Or, well, half-worried that’ll I’ll look and, rather than my reflection, see another fucked up thing I did.
Instead I sit at my desk.
I’m not really sure why. I never do anything at my desk in the mornings, but, I guess with the entire schedule thrown out of wack and my brain suddenly unable to provide the morning rundown, I guess I’m…confused? Or trying to gather myself, or something. Everything feels…buzzy. Like I’m not real. Like I’m not me, but more like…to the *side* of me. Like this day will never actually end.
I guess the feeling itself isn’t necessarily *inherently* bad, but it just…ugh. I find myself randomly scribbling on a sticky note, but I just get frustrated as that doesn’t fix the feeling, and end up swiping the pen across my desk, letting it fall and roll somewhere underneath my bed with a clatter. Of course it doesn’t fix the feeling, but GOD I wish it would just…release the tension, if only a bit, like it has before. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know why I can’t just face Pomni. It wasn’t really my fault. She deserves to know. I have to tell her. It’s her *own* *body* that’s being used, without her knowledge or consent. Yeah she can’t really fight it, but she still needs to *know*. It wasn’t really my fault. She *needs* to know. I’m smarter than this, I’m more mature than this, I can’t just avoid her like the plague until she like, finds out on her own. And it wasn’t really even my fault.
Eventually I grab my ring of keys and use it to open the bottom drawer of my desk, the one with the lock. It’s where I keep the medicines that are dangerous for patients to get their hands on, that Caine lets me have. It’s mostly emergency stuff, like sedation drugs to use if anybody ever gets in my room and is acting violently or anything. There’s also some syringes and a small sharps box. I also keep my seizure meds in there, just cuz it’s easier that way. I grab the seizure meds and a small glass vial. Caine gave me a couple of doses of the abstraction cure to use in case anybody else gets close to abstracting. He said it can also be used like a preventative measure. It actually works best as one, according to him. I mean, I’m not a monster, I argued with him like hell because I didn’t *want* his crazy unethical non consensual -human-blood-derived meds, but eventually he just shoved them in my hands and stormed off before I could shove them back in his. I would throw them away I guess, but…that feels like just making sure that all the pain Pomni’s gone through was for nothing.
I roll the small vial of the cure in between my thumb and my pointer finger, looking over the label. Caine hasn’t given it any special name or anything yet, so it’s just haphazardly labeled with sharpie handwriting reading “*Jax’s*”.
You wouldn’t really suspect that the cure literally comes from somebody’s *blood*, if you were just looking at it. It looks more like TV static than anything, honestly, which I had just chalked up to the general weirdness of the simulation at first, but now strikes me as…odd. I lift the vial to look at it a bit more closely, the light from the morning sunrise highlighting the glass bottle in a way that’s almost…pretty. Or, it *would* be, if it wasn’t for what the glass bottle actually contained.
I’ve gotten injections the cure myself twice already, actually. In my defense, the first time, I didn’t know what it *was.* I had helped hold down Jax while we were giving him his very first dose of the cure, and my arms and hands and even torso were glitching like hell, making it impossible to do *anything*, and not to mention the *pain.* Caine immediately gave me one injection and suddenly it was all better.
The second time around, I…I’m still grappling with.
I knew.
Caine had just told me. I knew exactly how he had discovered the cure and how he made it, and it made me *sick*, then, too. I yelled and we fought for hours and hours while I tried to convince him that it’s wrong and that he needs to come clean to Pomni about it, but with no luck. Eventually the pain in my hand from when Jax had grabbed it that morning got so bad I couldn’t focus on our argument anymore. Caine paused and offered to give me another small dose of the cure. It felt awful, taking it for the first time after I knew how it was made, like, some *toxic sludge* being injected into my bloodstream. I had to fight the urge to cry and shake and run like *Jax* does every time we give him the injections of the cure (Glad I at least don’t have to be a part of *that* anymore), and the pain of it got harder to face. I still don’t know why I took it. I was disgusted by the concept, and it was just one hand. I still could’ve worked with the other, and…Oh my god, I just realized, I could’ve just. Changed out my hands. Sure that was one of my favorite parts and I was in pain in everything but god I—God, what the fuck is wrong with me? Seriously.
I pop my seizure meds and take several big gulps from the bottle of stale water that was already sitting at my desk. Eventually I find the strength to stand from the desk chair, but still keep my hands planted flat on the desk, like I’m having to support myself to stand at all. I stare at the bottle of water and the vial labeled *Jax’s* for a solid five minutes.

Eventually I grab a syringe from the same cabinet.
Half of me is yelling and begging me to stop, reminding me that I’ll only feel worse and even more guilty than I already do once the nice floaty side effect of the meds that you get if you’re not as abstracted as Jax is over. The other half is louder, though—*much* louder. The other half of me is running through all the warning signs of abstraction that Caine told me to look out for. Weird dreams, especially nightmares, (check) irritability, (I mean I’m admittedly a little irritable all of the time but, check), intense, negative emotions (check), and feeling…off. (Check). I know I probably *won’t* abstract, but the thought that I *could* starts to get too heavy. Too *possible*. If I abstract, then who *will* tell Pomni she’s being experimented on and used to make medicine without her consent? And god knows Caine can*not* take care of Ragatha, Gangle, and Jax *all* by himself. I can’t have that happen and have Abel take over *more* control. They still need me. Sure, it comes from Pomni, but this dose of the cure has already been taken from her—it’s not like we can put it back *in*. And even if I’m *not* going to abstract at all, it’s not like an extra dose of the cure could *hurt.* It’s just a *guarantee* that I won’t. A safety net. And I need some sort of safety net, some way I can make sure I stick around, if not for myself, then for the sake of everybody else. I inject the “safety net” into my arm and sigh.
I know I’ll regret it later, but…for now, this is what I need to be able to feel…some sort of
*normal*.

The side effects of the cure actually don’t last all that long, at least for me. I feel weirdly floaty and relieved for just enough time to make myself coffee in the break room and microwave something for Gangle & Pomni to eat for breakfast without completely collapsing. I just grab a meal replacement drink from the fridge for Ragatha; they’re really meant for when it’s hard to convince her to eat, but she likes getting them without having to ask, and even with the side effects of the cure I still feel *exhausted*, to the point it’s best to take little shortcuts like that. There are dishes piled up in the sink, but I ignore them and grab some paper plates.
I kind of like waking up before everybody else. It’s quiet, and I can be alone with my thoughts, if only for a little. I sit down at the table in front of the window for a second, and take a big swig of my coffee, looking out at the fake digital sky as fake digital flurries of snow fall. Normally, I would relish this one quiet moment before everything becomes as chaotic as usual. But I just can’t be alone with my thoughts right now.

I balance the two microwave breakfasts in one hand, holding the meal drink with the other, and open the door to the break room by using my elbow to push the handle down and my back to push the door open. The floaty feeling has worn off now, but I was able to get the ball rolling, at least, and now the rest of my chores don’t seem as daunting. I figure I’ll wake up Gangle first—I like seeing her face first thing in the morning, and I microwaved her food first, so it might get cold.
The halls in the hospital are needlessly long and sterile, with only a few (honestly patronizing) murals here and there to break up the monotony. Honestly, I have to kinda shake my head to make sure I don’t get so tired and bored from the walk from the break room to Gangle’s that I doze off and drop the food. Gangle and I have offered to paint some more murals before, but, Dr. Abel thinks that’s “defacement of hospital property”. Bastard.
Eventually I reach the door labeled with Gangle’s smiling face. Luckily I don’t have to pass Pomni’s to get to hers.
“Gangle?” I call out, knocking on the door with the hand that’s holding Ragatha’s drink. Don’t wanna just walk in on her if she’s up to something or anything. There’s no answer, though. That’s not *so* unusual, but I’m already kind of on edge today. She’s probably just asleep, but still, I better check. “Gangle?” I open the door and look around the room. She’s not in her bed. It’s made up all neat, though, with her plushies arranged at the end in a sort of artistic order, and her blanket tucked all the way under the mattress. The usual mess at her art desk is cleaned up, with the loose papers all in a stack and even a few old paint stains that used to be on the desk gone. There’s a stack of like, three or four brand new canvases under the desk though, all with new sketches and bits of paint on them. The only thing in the room that’s not completely done up neat is the door to the bathroom, which is still left open. My heart beat starts to go a little faster just for a moment, but I manage to catch it and force myself to calm down. Gangle isn’t on constant observation or anything, she can be alone and be fine. She’s probably just somewhere else in the hospital, like the community room or the art therapy room or something. She wouldn’t go into the abandoned west wing or go do anything unsafe like that…At least I think she wouldn’t. I…I don’t know, maybe she’s hypomanic again, maybe she could be following bad impulses. No, no, nope, she’s my friend, I trust her. Still, I better look for her.
First, I should check on Ragatha, though. Ragatha isn’t on constant observation or anything either, but that’s mostly cuz I haven’t *told* Abel I think she shouldn’t be alone when she’s awake. I’m kind of just keeping an eye on her myself and not letting Caine or the other staff know. I don’t want them to get too overbearing about it and make her upset. She’s been in a really vulnerable state ever since the “Escape the Hospital” bullshit that Caine & Abel pulled. Crying every day, having full-blown meltdowns and trying to hurt herself every *other* day. She’s recovering, slowly, but she still needs a lot of support to be able to live normally. She’s not like, *suicidal*, I don’t think, but she just…she needs some company. There’s a small chance Gangle is off doing something dangerous if she’s alone, but there’s an even bigger chance that if *Ragatha’s* alone, she’s just hiding in a corner crying and needs to be pulled out of her own head. Or, even worse, she might be trying to…well, there’s just a lot of stuff she could be doing.
I walk across the hall to Ragatha’s room as quickly as I can without actually breaking into a run. I open the door, and…she’s gone. Oh my god. Shit. Her bed’s empty, her chair’s empty. Shit shit shit shit SHIT. I carelessly throw the food on her dresser and run to her bathroom—She could be purging, or trying to hide in there so that we can’t stop her from hurting herself. Caine took out the lock on the door a long time ago, so I knock, but there’s no answer. And no *Ragatha* when I open the door, either. I turn back to her bed, like she’ll have suddenly appeared while my back was turned. Still empty. Her stuffed animals and toys are arranged neatly on her bed, with her blanket tucked under the mattress, too, but that’s more typical for Ragatha than for Gangle. She always keeps her horse and her new baby doll laying at her head so that she can hug them easier, but the stuffed animals at the foot of the bed are arranged a little differently than how she normally keeps them. The bed would look completely neat and nice if it wasn’t for the weird bump underneath the blanket where her belt restraint is….Wait.
We normally don’t use the belt restraint at all, (even though Dr. Abel wants us to) because Ragatha doesn’t really need it (and because fuck Dr. Abel). But I had gotten worried last night, because she kept getting up without help and had fainted a few times already. She seemed pretty out of it and I didn’t have the time or energy to keep a close of an eye on her as I’d like, so I put her in the belt restraint. She can’t get out of it by herself.
Suddenly I hear the fuckass Full House theme song coming from the community room. I throw my head up and let out a giant sigh of relief. I have never been happier to hear that fuckass theme song. My brain immediately puts together all the pieces: Gangle must’ve woken up, let Ragatha out of her belt restraint, and now they’re in the community room, watching TV. Gangle could be hypomanic again, which would explain the weird neatness in her room and her waking up so early. Oh fuck, she could be volunteering again. It’s…better than her hiding somewhere in the west wing on impulse, or hurting herself, at least. I grab the food again and make my way to the community room, my heartbeat seemingly feeling a bit cheated out of the heart attack it thought it was gonna get to give me. I still need to wake up Pomni, but maybe it’d be best to check on Ragatha & Gangle first, just in case.
The first thing I see when I get to the communal room is in fact Ragatha’s bright red yarn hair, her sitting on the couch. I lean against the doorframe for a minute, watching everything, to try and catch my breath. The TV’s playing that one episode about like, the Beach Boys or whatever. I dunno, I didn’t grow up with the show. The weather outside seems to change slowly from snow flurries to rain, which makes the whole “Beach Boy” thing have a pretty different vibe. I swear, Ragatha must have blown through the entire show like, twenty times already, and I only managed to get the DVDs for her two weeks ago. I could probably recite some of her favorite episodes word for word. She isn’t…laughing, as much as she normally does, for this one, though.
“Ragatha?”
Ragatha turns to me with a look like she’s been caught doing something she’s not supposed to. Which, technically, she’s not supposed to leave her room until one of us staff wakes her up, just so that we know where she is, but I’ve never gotten on her case for that before. She seems like she wants to say something, but she’s been caught off guard, so she just kinda stutters for a minute.
“It’s okay, Ragatha. Where’s Gangle?” I thought I might see Gangle sitting at my desk, if she’s volunteering again, but she’s not anywhere in the room. Honestly, if she *is* volunteering I’ll have to have a talk with her about not leaving Ragatha alone, but I can’t really blame her since I haven’t told *anybody* about keeping Ragatha in observation like that. Besides, she’s putting in a lot of extra work in exchange for *nothing*, so, her making mistakes isn’t that big of a deal.

“…Sh-she went to go get a straitjacket…” Ragatha stutters more as she talks, her eyes flickering back to the show several times as she tries and fails to make eye contact with me. She talks like that when you catch her off guard or in the middle of anything really, especially since her breakdown in Abel’s office, but she also seems…ashamed.
A straitjacket. Okay, that…might be a big deal. I mean, I know I put Rags in the belt restraint last night, but that’s at least something we actually use in the *21st century.* Dr. Abel tells us to use straitjackets all the time, but we never actually *do*. Gangle’s great, but when she volunteers, her methods are a bit…bad, honestly. They’re bad. She gets a little…overzealous, I guess. Even then though, Gangle wouldn’t just put Ragatha in a straitjacket for *no reason*. And whatever reason there might be is *also* cause for concern.
“Why is she getting a straitjacket?” I sit down on the couch next to Ragatha, trying to make sure it doesn’t seem like she’s in trouble. She takes it that way anyway and scoots away, hiding her hands from me. I scoot back a bit farther to give her space. It takes me a bit longer to find the right words. “…I’m not mad at you,” I add, eventually.
Ragatha looks at me, for real this time, rather than just glancing and looking away. Her eye sparkles a bit, I swear. She sits back up so that she isn’t in a little curled ball trying to hide herself from me anymore. “Oh…okay. She—I—,” Ragatha holds her left hand out to me, showing a slight red mark on her wrist, and a few bite marks on her the back of it. I take her hand in my own, rubbing the marks with my thumb. I sigh.
“*Ouch.*…Listen, Raggy, you don’t have to wear a straitjacket. How about Gangle and I just keep an eye on you, yeah? We can’t have you hurting yourself but I don’t think we need a *straitjacket* to stop you.”
Ragatha nods, sheepishly. “I-I’d like that.”
“Great. You keep watching your show,” I say as I stand and pat her shoulder. Physical touch helps her a lot, I’ve noticed. “Have you eaten yet?”
Ragatha nods, with a bit more energy this time. Her general health isn’t great, but she’s been eating much better.
“That’s g-,”
“I’M BAAAAAACK~!” Gangle’s voice interrupts me. I turn to see her coming out of the door behind my desk labeled “Authorized Personnel Only”, wearing her blue button-up shirt and a sticker badge that says “volunteer”. There’s a little yellow star on one side of her face and a pink spiral on the other. She is in fact holding a straitjacket, but she’s also holding a pink blanket and a plush cat, I guess as some things to use to try and comfort Ragatha rather than just tying her up and leaving her be, which is *something*, at least.
Suddenly I get a thought that slaps me in the face. *Is Gangle volunteering because of *me*?* I vented to her yesterday about everything. It was pretty heavy stuff, and she seemed kinda shaken by it too. Did *I* trigger this hypomanic episode by telling her all that? Did she feel like she had to volunteer because *I* was so overwhelmed? I don’t want her to feel like she has to like, pick up my slack or anything. She’s here to get better, she shouldn’t have to spend all this extra energy on making sure *everybody else* gets better. I don’t want her to get so focused on everybody else that she stops taking care of *herself*. By the time my thoughts stop fully spiraling Gangle’s already putting Ragatha’s arms in the straitjacket. Ragatha just looks up at me with the saddest, wet-kicked-puppy look, instead of saying anything.
“[%$!#], Gangle, wait! I told Ragatha she doesn’t have to wear that.”
Gangle stops, and looks up at me with an eyebrow raised. “Okay…Why?”
“She doesn’t need that, it’s excessive. We’ll just stay with her and she won’t hurt herself. Just, like, hold her hands or something.”
“Hmmmmm,” Gangle stretches out the ‘m’ part for an uncomfortably long time. “Can we sidebar?” Her voice is *way* too chipper, it feels unnatural.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, actually, I’d like that.”
“Great! C’mere!” Red ribbon wraps around my arm and yanks me over to my desk before I can even take a step there myself. “Listen, I know you’ve been overworked lately.”
I try to butt in and explain how I don’t want her to volunteer just because of *me* not being able to handle my own workload, but Gangle keeps talking.
“And now you have the whole *Pomni* thing to worry about as well, which—are we telling Ragatha about that? No, we better not, let’s not tell Ragatha, she’s got enough on her mind and then *she* would try to tell Pomni and I mean as sweet as she is we both know that won’t go so well. Haha, ANYWAY, you have the whole *Pomni* thing to take care of today—so I figured since I technically still have volunteer status I’d just use that to take care of Ragatha for you today, and you can just focus on that!”
“Gangle, I didn’t mean to make you feel like *you* had to help out, you—you can rest, y’know. You need to be taken care of, too.”
Gangle laughs and rolls her eyes, which is some body language I can’t really get any straightforward meaning out of. “*You* didn’t make me feel like I needed to help out, Zooble. It’s just the way that things *are* right now. Jax is half-abstracted, Ragatha’s in the worst mental state *I’ve* ever seen her in, and Pomni…,” Gangle looks over at Ragatha and then kind of just waves her ribbons. “There just needs to be some extra helping hands around in general. That’s not your fault. YOU need to focus on telling Pomni….,” Gangle waves her ribbons again. “And I feel *fine*! Great, actually! I’m perfectly capable of helping out, you don’t need to worry about me!”
“Ar-are you sure?” Obviously that’s the wrong thing to ask, of course a hypomanic person thinks they’re *fine*. But I’m not sure what else to say.
Gangle nods excitedly. I try to say something again, like maybe telling her I think she’s hypomanic, but I hesitate wondering if that’s the right thing to say too long, and she keeps talking. “And listen, I don’t know what Ragatha told you,” She hushes her voice down to a whisper, which, her hypomanic whispering is basically just her usual speaking voice, but luckily Ragatha still doesn’t seem to hear, more in a trance-like state watching her show. And biting her hand. Shit.
“Ragatha,” I call out. She takes her hand out of her mouth without even looking back at us. Gangle keeps going on.
“But when I woke her up this morning she was *not* having a good time. She had a nightmare or *something* and she just kept biting and hitting herself and crying and pulling her hair!” Gangle mimes pulling imaginary strands of hair. “I distracted her with breakfast for a while but now I really think she needs to be in a straitjacket or *something*. I know it’s not *ideal*, but there are worse things. I’ve been in a straitjacket before and I was fine. And…y’know, Zooble…you can trust me.”
I blink. “I-I didn’t say I *didn’t*. I just—I—“
“It’s weird for Ragatha to actually hurt herself *while* someone else is in the room, normally that stops her, yeah. But she’s doing it anyway today. Something’s….*off*.” Gangle sighs, frowning for the first time this morning. “I can just tell she needs it, okay?”
I sigh, too. “…Gangle, I…I just don’t think that that’s a solid enough reason.”
It’s quiet, besides the music on the TV and the rain outside. Gangle and I have never really *disagreed* before. It feels awful, and neither of us are really sure what to say.

“Well…I guess she has calmed down now…”
I breathe a giant sigh of relief.
“Yeah. Yeah, she’ll be alright. If she keeps biting herself, there are some sugar-free suckers in the top left drawer on my desk. Having something else in her mouth could help her stop that. And if she keeps pulling her hair and hitting herself, just, sit with her and hold her hands. Maybe give her some fidget toys or something. Get me if you need me. Thanks for helping out, but, don’t overwork yourself, okay? I….,” I take a deep breath. “I guess I’m gonna go wake up Pomni.”
Gangle smiles. “Good luck.”
“Thanks. I’ll need it.” I turn around only to almost bump into Dr. Moon.
She chuckles, gracefully. If chuckling gracefully is something you can do. I don’t know, I don’t have the time or energy to come up with the right *adjectives.* “Excuse me, am I interrupting something?”
“No, ma’am,” I lie. This’ll probably only take a second, so it’s not worth explaining the entire situation to her.
“Good,” Her voice is gorgeous, and it calms me down just a bit to hear it. “Dr. Abel sent me.” Fuck. Moon’s calming voice isn’t much of any help now. Dr. Abel still hasn’t assigned us any sort of punishment for Ragatha for spitting in his face yet. I pray to god this isn’t it. Ragatha doesn’t need to be tipped over the edge like that. “He wants me to bring Ragatha and Jax in for some psychiatric testing. Now, it’s going to take all day for both of them, but I could take Ragatha today and Jax tomorrow or Jax today and Ragatha tomorrow. I wanted to know which you think is best.”
“Psychiatric testing?”
Dr. Moon nods. “They’ve both already been through it when they first entered the simulation, but Dr. Abel wants them retested after their…outbursts, for lack of a better term.”
“…Right. Uh…,” I suddenly realize that we’ve been kinda talking about Ragatha like she’s not in the room. She hasn’t really gotten much of a say in a lot of the decisions that involve *her* lately. This is at least one thing we *can* let her weigh in on, and we’ve gotta take those chances when we can. Besides, I honestly still feel a little guilty for how I handled things back during her breakdown. She seems to have forgiven me, but still, I gotta do better. “Hey, Ragatha?”
Ragatha turns back to us with a look like she’s been “caught” doing something again. She kind of just *looks like that* now.
“Dr. Moon’s here to take you in for some testing. Would you rather do the testing today or tomorrow?”
“Oh! Um—I…I—Hi Doctor—uh—I don’t, I…..

Uh…what?”
Her eye is kind of flicking back to the TV again, so I grab the remote off the arm of the couch and pause it.
“Dr. Moon has to take you in for psychiatric testing, either today or tomorrow. Would you wanna go with her today or tomorrow?”
“Oh. S-sorry-I—I heard you I just—Sorry. Sorry.”
“That’s okay, Ragatha.”
“Sorry.”
I let it fall quiet again to give her some time to process & think. Sometimes it takes her a while to fully process that she’s been asked a question at all, let alone come to a decision on it. Caine and the other NPCs sometimes think she’s *ignoring* them, (when she spares herself from the stuttering and actually lets herself think), but if you’re human you can usually tell she’s really trying.
“Uhhh…I…I-I don’t know, I…maybe…I…” There’s a long pause. “…what do you guys think I should do?” She looks between me and Gangle for an answer. I’m a little bit surprised. I was actually really expecting her to say tomorrow, since she seemed so distracted by the show, and she usually doesn’t like unexpected things like this.
“Uh. I mean…by psychiatric testing, you mean like, diagnosis stuff, right?” I ask Dr. Moon. The only mental thing Ragatha’s officially diagnosed with is anorexia, but god knows that can’t be the ONLY thing she’s got. She’s already on antidepressants for it, but it can’t hurt to figure out what else she’s got going on, earlier.
“Right. As well as an IQ test and a few academic things, you know, reading comprehension and basic math and whatnot. Dr. Abel also has his own test he wants me to run, and it’s a bit tiring, but I assure you, I’ve never encountered any problems with it before.”
I frown. As well as I can with this damn face, at least. A test designed by Dr. Abel doesn’t exactly sound *promising*.
“Could I see that test?”
“Well it’s a good 250 questions, so I can’t exactly just show you a paper or anything. But it’s simple questions, like ‘what color is this’, etcetera. It’s just meant to identify how aware she is of the things happening around her, and evaluate how much she understands them. I’m sure she’ll do fine.”
“Mm-hm.” I have my doubts it’s that innocent. Gangle weighs in before I can say that, though.
“Well, in my opinion, if you’re going to do it either way, it’d probably be best to take in Ragatha first. You’d probably have to get Pomni to translate with Jax, and she has to get a root canal today, so she can’t be there the whole time.”
Oh. Right. Pomni. Fuck. I had almost forgotten about her for a second. “Pomni has to get a root canal today” would probably be one of the little facts on my daily mental checklist, if my brain had actually bothered with even *trying* to give me the usual rundown. But it didn’t, and I forgot, and now nobody’s even double checking to make sure she actually brushes her teeth this morning. And now, I have to make sure I find time to talk to her some time outside of that full 90 minute period where I just straight up won’t be able to. At least there are 90 minutes out of my day today where I won’t be plagued by guilt every millisecond I’m not apologizing to her.
“Oh, right.” What I really want to say is “oh shit” but something in me thinks I have to be “professional” around Dr. Moon. It’s her white lab coat or something, I don’t know. “Yeah, you should probably take Ragatha first.”
“Uh—w-wait,” Ragatha speaks up all of a sudden. “I-I don’t know now…I…I kinda wanna stay and watch my show but I…umm…I don’t know…”
Gangle gives her a sort of sympathetic smile, like a mom looking down at her kid after they stub their toe or something. “Let’s go ahead and go, okay? You’ll be alright. You need to do something besides watching TV, and the show will be here when you get back.” She uses a surprisingly reassuring voice that I haven’t really heard from her before, keeping in line with the whole “mom” thing. I guess it’s because she’s taking on the volunteer role, but I don’t know, it…it just feels so *off*. And before Ragatha or I can get another word in, she’s helped her into her wheelchair and Dr. Moon is taking her away.

It’s quiet again.
Hour two: 8AM
Gangle and I just stare at the door together in silence, for a minute.
“…I hope she’ll be alright,” I say, eventually.
Gangle just nods. Dr. Moon is an NPC, so she’s more likely to obey all the fucked up orders that Dr. Abel gives us. She’s nowhere near as bad as him (hell, it’d be kind of impressive if she somehow managed to be) but she’s also nowhere near as safe as like, Kinger or someone else.
“Dr. Moon is pretty nice. She’ll probably be fine. But I’ll check on them every now and again. You go talk to Pomni,” Gangle says. She gathers up the straitjacket, the blanket, and the cat plush from the couch, then disappears back through the “Authorized Personnel Only” door. It’s even quieter, now, just me standing in the middle of the community room and rain beating against the window. It’s cold in here. The TV fades to black after having been paused too long.
“Morning, Zooble.”
I jolt a little.
“Morning, Pomni.”
Pomni yawns and pads over to the chair Ragatha usually sits in. She has to kind of climb up into it, and plops down there like she means to go back to sleep in it. “Where is everybody?” She mumbles. I stuff my hands in my pockets, like I’m holding something I don’t want her to see.
“Dr. Moon came to take Ragatha for some psychiatric testing. Gangle’s volunteering again, she’s off putting some stuff up.”
“Oh.”
The quiet is even worse this time. It’s shorter, but it definitely doesn’t *feel* that way.
“Pom-“ “Wh-“ Her and I both start to talk at the same time, but stop.
“Sorry. What about Jax?”
“Uh…I don’t really know. Caine’s, like, completely taking over his care now. I don’t handle his stuff anymore. He’s probably still asleep, honestly.”
“Oh. It’s just…it’s been a while since he’s been out here with the rest of us…I don’t think it’s healthy for anyone to be isolated like that..”
“Mm. Yeah, I…Caine’s working on making Jax a bit more…calm? I guess? Before he lets him talk to any other patients again. It’s not *ideal*, yeah, but…” I kinda just shrug. I know keeping Jax with nobody but the AI’s and NPC’s to talk to isn’t exactly *kind*, but he’s not exactly kind either. The guy does nothing but torment Gangle & Ragatha all day. *Ideally*, he’d just stop being an asshole and we could let him talk to anybody without having to worry about their mental (or physical) wellbeing, but lord knows that’s not happening. To be honest, in my opinion, if he’s gonna be a bully, then I think it’s completely fair to keep him away from the people he’s bullying. There just aren’t any *other* people for him to be around. Pomni is more understanding of him, though, for some reason. I guess that’s kind of fair, it’s good to be forgiving and all, but I just can’t do the same.
Jax should be a good segue into what I have to tell her, though. (Wait, “segue”? That can’t be right, isn’t it “segway”? Somehow “segway” both sounds more right and less right at the same time...Anyway.)
“Listen, Pomni, I…I gotta tell you something.” Oh god, it sends a massive spike of anxiety up my spine just to *say* that. I don’t know what I’m gonna say next. I don’t know how Pomni will react. I just keep pushing through anyways, hoping that the right words’ll come out. “You know how Jax is like…half-abstracted, right now?”
Pomni looks up at me with one eyebrow raised. “Uh…yeah?”
Ugh, something about that response makes me even more anxious to go on. I hate feeling anxious. I *hate* it so fucking much. I don’t usually get anxious about anything except my body, and Caine trying to get me to do things I especially can’t do like blood draws and inserting IV’s. (Which technically aren’t my job, by the way.) Usually I can tough it through almost anything. I’ve had to figure out how to give a vaccine without *any* training or guidance and have had to wrestle a grown man to get him to take his meds everyday for the last 2 years, you’d think I’d be able to suck it up and power through *this*. But secretly I’m a little relieved when that very same grown man’s glitchy voice absolutely *SCREAMS*. There’s loud crashing and more yelling, which sounds like it’s coming from one of the exam rooms. I know I’m not responsible for Jax anymore, but this feels like an exception.
“[%$!#], remind me to talk to you later!”
I bolt to the exam rooms, partly out of habit, partly because I *know* Caine will need my help, and partly because it buys me a bit more time before talking to Pomni. I didn’t think I’d be dealing with Jax today, so I didn’t bother to check if my leg parts were stable enough for running, and I trip a few times on the way, but I eventually make it, grabbing onto the door frame of the exam room to catch myself.
“Holy [%$!#]!”
The sharps bucket has been knocked off of the counter, and I guess the lid must not’ve been closed properly or something, because there are also *needles* all over the floor. Some of the drawers and cupboard doors are open, and there are things like latex gloves, face masks, and band-aids all over the place, too. The paper on the exam table is ripped, and Jax is hiding (or, well, trying to hide) behind it, tugging on his ears and breathing like he’s having an asthma attack.
“Zooble! Oh thank goodness, I was just about to come get you!” Caine says as he looks around the room, seemingly not really sure what to do himself.
“Yeah, yeah, I would hope so! Where’s Jax’s inhaler?”
“Here,” Caine pulls the inhaler from behind his back, from that weird “hammer space” he has, I guess. “But-“ I take it before he can finish the sentence, step EXTREMELY carefully over the needles, (and by some stroke of luck don’t accidentally step on one anyway) and bend down to where Jax is curled up in a ball and hand him the inhaler. He looks up at me for a second, coughing, with his eyes wide. His fur is damp with sweat and tears. I get a bit worried because the other day, he seemed to not even process what his inhaler *was*, but luckily he seems to have remembered now, and takes it. Slowly his breathing returns normal again. I breathe a sigh of relief.
“What the hell *happened*?” I stay kneeling next to Jax as I talk, so that I can grab him if he tries to run. He’s barefoot so him stepping on a needle definitely wouldn’t be fun for any of us. He seems to have calmed down now, too, still curled up in his little ball but at least not crying and coughing and screaming anymore, so it’s not that miserable to be kneeling next to him. Well, maybe he’s still crying. I don’t know, he’s hiding his face.
“I don’t know! I was getting ready to give him his morning injection and he just threw an absolute *tantrum* out of nowhere. Which, *Zooble*, I was *going* to tell you before you just *rudely* snatched the inhaler out of my hands—when Jax’s asthma attacks are brought on by his *own tantrums*, we’re going to delay giving him the inhaler for a moment. Not long enough to hurt him, just long enough for him to actually face the consequences of his actions.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine.” I am obviously never going to actually do that, but I have enough to argue about with Caine already.
“*Thank you* for being *cooperative*. I wasn’t able to give him the full injection or finish the exam I was doing, so, help me get him back up on the table, will you?”
“You’re on your own for that, dude. We made a deal that I don’t have to help with him anymore, remember? Besides, I want as little to do with the whole non-consensual blood medicine thing *as possible*.” I stand, ready to leave this mess already.
Caine rolls *his* eyes. “At least clean this up.”
I want to argue against that too, but honestly that’s the one task he’s assigned to me in weeks that’s ACTUALLY something I’m supposed to do as part of my job. I groan and roll my eyes again anyway though. “Are there tweezers or forceps or something I can use to pick up the needles?”
“Tweezers *are* a type of forceps, Zooble,” Caine corrects, finally carefully stepping past the needles himself to get to Jax.
“Tweezers *are* a type of forceps, Zooble~,” I mutter to myself in mocking voice while I look through the drawers. Jax laughs, which, normally I wouldn’t like to make any sort of joke that *Jax* laughs at, but I kind of feel like Caine deserves it today. Caine huffs. “Jax, it was *not* appropriate to scream and make a mess like that. We *will* talk about that *later*. Get back up on the table, now.”
I finally manage to find some tweezers, or forceps or whatever, put on some gloves, and start to pick up the needles and place them back in the sharps container. Jax whines some nonsensical glitchy noise that I think is a “no”.
“*Jax*…”
He just whines again, louder this time.
“Alright then.” Caine sighs and grabs this weird, gray necklace he’s been wearing and pushes the button on it. Jax absolutely *WAILS*, curling into himself even tighter and sobbing, pulling at his ears, then at something on his wrist, I think some sort of bracelet.
“Whoa, what the [%$!#]?! Caine, what the [%$!#] is going on?!” I shout, pretty loud to make sure he can actually hear me over Jax’s screaming.
“One moment—Jax, table. Now.” Caine finally stops pressing the button, and Jax stops screaming. He coughs and sniffs a bit, but then crawls back up on the exam table and lays down there, covering his face. I’ve never seen Jax *fold* like that so quickly, especially not immediately after throwing a tantrum of *this* scale.
“How—How did you…What?”
Caine pats Jax’s head (he flinches), then turns to me. “Well, you see…Jax…had a bit of a behavioral problem yesterday, when we went to speak with Dr. Abel.”
“…You went to speak with Dr. Abel yesterday? After everything we fought about?”
“I was trying to talk to him *about* making things better! We had a prescheduled meeting about renewing the funding for the abstraction project anyway—,”
“‘The abstraction project’?! You mean the take-Pomni’s-bl-“
“Oh my GOODNESS, ZOOBLE, would you HUSH?! Jax doesn’t know and I do not want him to know!” He whisper-hisses the last part to try and make sure Jax doesn’t hear it. Jax’s hearing is kind of muffled anyway, from what we can see, but I guess he wants to be careful. “I’m just trying to answer *your* question! Jax was being very disrespectful in Dr. Abel’s office so Abel recommended we start using a shock collar on him.”
“A sh-“
“NOW, I know, putting human beings in *collars* isn’t exactly something you would see as very…*humane*, for whatever reason, *even if the avatar *is* an animal…*, so I got him to switch it to a shock bracelet. That’s what I just used on Jax. I know he looks like he’s in a lot of pain, but, here—“ Caine pulls out another bracelet from one of his pockets and hands it to me. “I keep this other bracelet on hand in case he somehow damages his. You can feel it, it’s really not that bad.” He grabs another similar necklace from another pocket and presses the button. It actually feels a lot like when you touch another person after they rub their socks on the carpet or something, or like grabbing onto the metal bars of a trampoline on a hot day. It hurts a bit worse than that, but it’s not scream-your-head-off bad. Jax’s bracelet is on his abstracted arm, though. I…wonder if that makes it feel any different.
“See? It hardly even hurts! AND, it’s working *wonders*. I mean, this tantrum was a bit of a hiccup, but hiccups happen sometimes! Otherwise he’s been very obedient.”
I don’t respond, instead just staring at the bracelet as I hand it back to Caine. The word “obedient” just never sits right with me.
“Like! Watch this.” Caine stuffs the other necklace and bracelet back in his pocket and turns back to Jax, holding onto the necklace around his neck. (Well, the closet thing he has to a neck.) “Jax, take your hands away from your face, please.”
Jax doesn’t seem to hear it at first, so Caine just repeats it a bit louder. “Jax? Hands away from your face please, bumblebee, or I’ll have to give you another shock.”
Slowly, Jax removes his shaking hands from his face. He looks miserable. His eyes are laser focused on *me*, I guess cuz he’s more embarrassed to be like this around another human being than he is around an AI. Can’t say I really blame him. Caine lets out a giddy laugh. “Good job! Now give us a smile, please.” He draws an imaginary smile against his lower jaw, using one hand to make the sign for “smile”. He’s been teaching Jax ASL, but he isn’t exactly making good progress. Jax seems to know that sign though, and forces a smile. It looks almost normal, like his usual shit-eating grin whenever one of us trips or falls for one of his pranks or something. But the dark circles under his eyes and the abstraction that marks half his face make it obvious he’s *not* having fun.
“Attaboy! See? He’s been doing *great*. By my estimates, he’ll be ready to interact with the others *no problem* just two days from now!” Caine’s chipper voice only *amplifies* the horror I feel right now. Yeah, I want Jax to change and do what we say, but seeing him just fold and follow Caine’s every order like he’s some sort of *puppet* is…ugh. I guess I can’t put it into words, but something here feels so…*wrong*. And Caine seems completely unaware of any problem with it. I don’t know what to say, but I have to say *something*.
“Caine, I…I just don’t know if this is right.”
Caine sighs. He puts his stethoscope on Jax’s chest, avoiding eye contact with me. “Zooble, you have to stop getting so hung up on the details of every little thing. Sometimes we just have to do what *works*, even if it’s got its problems. You’re the one who’s been begging me to get a handle on Jax’s bullying, and now that I finally *have*, you’re not happy because it isn’t *perfect.* Seriously, is anything *ever* morally pure enough for you?”
“Dude, I don’t think me being upset that you’re experimenting on a person without their consent is *perfectionism*! And yeah, I don’t want Jax to be a [%$!#] anymore, but not like this! He just seems terrified of *disobeying* you, it’s not like he’s actually developed a moral compass. There’s gotta be a better way.”
“A better way like *what*?” Caine practically spits that last word. “Jax has been through *so* much therapy, so many punishments, so much sedation, and none of *that* ever worked. This does. So unless *you* have a better suggestion, I’d appreciate some *quiet* while we work, thank you.”
I clench my fist open and closed again, and take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down as I think of an answer. “…Maybe he needs a different type of therapy? Kinger only really does basic talk therapy, he might need something different. Like, DBT or something? Or new meds—antidepressants, or adhd meds or mood stabilizers or *something*.”
Caine closes his eyes for a moment. “Zooble. If you’re not going to help with Jax, then don’t just sit there and critique the way *I’m* helping him. Please and *thank you*.” It sounds like he’s speaking through gritted teeth, but I can still see his bloodshot eyes. I kinda want to keep arguing, but I’m at a loss for what else to say. And I guess it’s sort of true that if I don’t want anything to do with Jax, then I shouldn’t have anything to do with Jax. Besides, I don’t think I have any chance of winning this one right now, (not because I’m wrong, but cuz Caine won’t back down), and we can at least save our screaming matches for when we’re not literally in front of the patients. I sigh and get back to cleaning up again. Caine goes back to whatever he’s doing with Jax. There are a few quiet whines from Jax as Caine finishes giving him the injection, but otherwise, every time I look over, Jax is a stiff as a board, and the entire room is completely quiet. It’s awkward, and if it weren’t for the tension, I’d be bored out of my mind. Eventually, Caine seems to forget he’s mad at me and starts humming. I *finally* manage to get the last of the needles, and move onto everything else that’s been thrown on the floor. And Jax just still lies there, I think on the verge of another tantrum, but too scared to actually start screaming and kicking again. Luckily Caine finishes up before Jax loses all his self-control.
“There we go, all done!” He does the sign for “all done”, which is the one sign Jax consistently remembers, because he sees it every time Caine finishes doing something he hates. He actually gets a bit excited when he sees it, I think. He sits up and hops off the table, only for his legs to immediately give out on him, because it’s 8:40-something a.m. and we have apparently not suffered enough yet.
“[%$!#]!” Caine and I both manage to grab him at the same time, right before he can fall and knock his teeth out on the tile. I would say “luckily”, but Caine’s and my hands accidentally touch, and Caine chuckles about it like it’s some sort of step in healing our friendship, which makes me uncomfortable and confused enough that it overrides the feeling of relief. I help lift Jax back up onto the exam table as fast as possible so that I can pull away from *Caine* as fast as possible, then step away. Honestly, I’m starting to want less to do with him than I want to do with *Jax.* At least Jax doesn’t pretend to have the moral high ground. Or, well, really, at least Jax isn’t running *experiments* on a person without their knowledge or consent.
“Go get me a wheelchair, please, Zooble,” Caine asks.
I nod, and turn to go, but stop in my tracks when I hear a genuine, honest-to-god *sob*. I’ve seen Jax tear up before, and I’ve definitely seen him *scream*, but this is different. He’s hunched over as far as he can be without pulling his knees up to his chest, and is just actually just letting his tears flow, like he *can’t* control it at all anymore. He keeps sobbing, and with every sob his entire upper body shakes. He’s crying in that kind of way where you can tell it’ll only give him a stomach ache and put him to sleep for a couple hours. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing I guess, god knows he needs the emotional release, but it’s wild to see *that* coming from *Jax*. Caine doesn’t even seem fazed, though, for some reason.
“Ohhh, shhh, shh, I know, I know, honey-bunny, that was scary, wasn’t it, buddy? But you’re okay now, you’re okay.” He rubs Jax’s shoulder, trying to calm him down. Jax just sobs a little louder, shaking a bit harder. “Shh, shh. Let’s get you some breakfast, and you can go back to your room and eat it while you cuddle with your bunny plushie. How does that sound, bumblebee?”
Jax sniffs and coughs and wipes his eyes and nose. To my surprise, he *nods*. Which…honestly might just be a tic, the more I think about it, but Caine takes it as a yes. “Excellent! Zooble—Wheelchair, please.”
“Right, right. On it.”
There are some wheelchairs that are kept in the hall nearby, so I’m able to grab one and come back pretty quickly. By the time I come back, Jax’s stopped full-on sobbing and is just sniffling and whining now, Caine still rubbing his shoulder and shushing him. “Oh good! See, look, they came back. Could you help me get him into the wheelchair too?”
“Yeah, of course.” I guess this isn’t exactly in line with the whole deal that me and Caine worked out about me not taking care of Jax at all anymore, and we both seem to realize that, but, hey, he needs the help, and I think it’d be an *actual* asshole move to just leave him here to figure it out for himself. Jax doesn’t *like* it, but we manage to get him into the wheelchair without another complete meltdown, so that’s at least one win for today. Caine and I both breathe a massive sigh of relief. He looks at me and chuckles in that same way again.
“Well, I should probably get back to cleaning this up,” I say and stuff my hands in my pockets before Caine can say “jinx” or “we’re not so different after all”, or something stupid like that.
“Oh, right, right, of course. Uhhh…oh! say bye-bye to Zooble, Jax! They aren’t gonna be around for a while,” Caine says, still patting Jax’s shoulder. The “bye-bye” part makes me wanna cringe all the way into myself until I just fully disappear, so I can’t imagine how *Jax* feels about it. He seems to hear and understand what Caine said, though. His ears perk up and his boxy pupils go small. He looks back at him, then at me, frowning. Then he says *something*. Neither me or Caine can actually understand anything he says, but he raises his tone at the end, like it’s a question.
“Uh…yeah,” I try to answer, as well as I can without even knowing what I’ve been asked. “Caine’s gonna take care of all your stuff, and I’m gonna focus on taking care of the others. Like what we’ve been doing, but like…more. That’s why I didn’t come to wake you up this morning. Caine’ll handle that type of stuff for you now.”
Jax just stares at me, for a long while. Then he says something again. I can tell it’s about two sentences, but I have even less of an idea of what he said than the last time. The whole situation of us not being able to understand Jax and him, presumably, having limited understanding of us, is just SO *goddamn* **frustrating**. I mean, it’s frustrating for *us*. I always thought I wanted him to shut the fuck up, but now there’s just this massive wall in between all of us. For Jax, it must be actual hell. At least *we* can independently do whatever we need done without having to communicate it to anybody. For him, getting what he wants relies entirely on being able to get over that wall and explain it to one of us, which, he’s never really able to do anymore. As much of an asshole as he is, I always feel bad when he clearly wants to tell us something, but his words just aren’t working. He always forgets that we can’t really decipher anything he’s saying, or he thinks that if he just *tries again*, it’ll work eventually. I never really know how to remind him that we can’t, and that it…*won’t,* at least, not for a while. This time, I just shake my head and shrug my shoulders.
Jax starts to tear up again.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are those silly little tears for? We’ll have lots of fun together, buddy, I *promise*! You won’t even notice that Zooble’s gone!” Caine practically shouts, definitely trying to overcompensate or something. He wipes Jax’s tears with his handkerchief and pats his head, as if that would help. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s taking Jax’s crying as a personal insult against *him*. He seriously can’t fathom the idea that a patient might not want to only have HIM and no one else to interact with. “Let’s go get you your bunny.”
Caine turns to start to push Jax out the door and back to his room, but immediately stops in his tracks when Jax lets out *another* blood-curdling scream. “Jax! Let’s *not* with the tantrums, please….” Caine hisses in the same gritted teeth voice as before, letting out a slight losing-it-from-the-stress chuckle, which I’ve only heard from him a few times in the past. Jax whines, saying something again, several sentences, but it gets completely lost in between his new glitchy voice and him having just finished sobbing his heart out. Caine reaches for the remote on the necklace that controls the shock bracelet.
“[%$!#], WAIT, Caine!” I find myself at Caine’s side before I even know what I’m gonna do. Luckily that distracts him from actually pressing the button, at least long enough for me to randomly blurt out whatever comes to mind first. “What are you doing?! Jax didn’t even *do* anything wrong, he’s just crying!”
“He-!” Caine pauses and sputters for a second. “He isn’t crying, Zooble, he is throwing a *fit*.”
Jax lets out another loud sob, not exactly *helping* his case.
“Well he hasn’t hurt anyone, or thrown or broken anything! You *know* he wouldn’t just *cry* in front of us for the [$%!#] of it, it’s not like he’s just trying to get something he wants. He’s UPSET. And he doesn’t have the words to say it, so he’s screaming and crying. Why the [$%!#] would you want to *hurt* him for trying to express that he’s upset? That’s exactly what we’ve been trying to get him to do for *years*.”
Surprisingly articulate given the fact I haven’t thought through this at all, but not articulate enough to convince Caine.
“I-I! I am *not* hurting him, Zooble, I am trying to *help* him. Trust me, this hurts me more than it hurts him. It’s—It’s just like medicine! It tastes bad, and sometimes giving it through syringes and needles can hurt, but it’s *good for you.* It might hurt him, but in the end, that’s for the best.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense! How the [%$!#] are those two things the same at all?! And you just said-,”
“They just ARE, Zooble, okay?! Listen, I know that you feel all ~smart and knowledgeable~ with your *two years of hands-on experience*, but I think that you’re forgetting *who *answers to *who* in this relationship. Dr. Abel and I are the *experts* here. We have WAY more experience and WAY more training than *you*. If we say something goes, it *goes*. Am I making myself clear?”
I genuinely have to take a moment to process what Caine is even saying to me. He’s gotten onto me for dumb shit before, but I genuinely can’t believe that *these words* are coming out of *his mouth.*
“What the [%$!#] has gotten into you, man?! You sound like Dr. Abel!”
“I—! He—! No I—! Ugh! Zooble, *you* have a mess to clean up. Take care of it, now, before I write you up.” Caine points at the various things all over the floor, then turns and starts pushing Jax’s wheelchair again. Jax manages to twist himself around and grabs my arm, tight, looking up at me. Like I’ll save him.
Shit. The way I’ve treated Jax lately was honestly one of the only things I’ve never felt guilt over. But as he looks up at me, holding onto my arm for dear life, I can feel another new wave of guilt already creeping up on me. As if I wasn’t already drenched.
“…please…,” Is the one word I manage to pick out of whatever Jax says. He signs it too, rubbing his hand in a circle against his chest. Oh god, I might as well be standing under a *waterfall* of guilt. Part of me tries to argue that this is some sort of trick, but I…really don’t think it is. Jax can still throw water in my face, dump his food out on the floor just to give me a mess to clean up, throw actual tantrums and try his hardest to insult me, but I just don’t think he can put up an act that hard anymore. And who can blame him? I guess maybe in the end it’ll be better this way, but…once things get good, I can’t let myself stop to think too long about how we got there.
Caine seems moved by Jax’s plea, too. He takes his hand off the wheelchair and sighs, rubbing his upper jaw where his temple would be. “You know what…Zooble…come help me with Jax’s breakfast, please.”
I nod. “Of course.
…But only if you *stop it* with the shock bracelet.”
Caine drags his hand from his upper jaw to his lower jaw and sighs again. “I won’t use it as long as you’re helping.”
I groan and roll my eyes. That isn’t *good enough*. But lord knows it’s the best I’m getting. “Fine.”
“Thank you, Zooble.”
I take Jax’s wheelchair, since it’s a bit easier for me to push it than it is for Caine. He follows the two of us out the door, dragging his feet a bit.
“You know, why the [%$!#] wouldn’t you feed Jax breakfast *before* his injection and checkup or whatever you were doing? Don’t you think that would help make him a bit less… dysregulated?” (Sometimes I throw in more medical sounding terms to try and get Caine to actually listen to me. I would normally say something more along the lines of “dickhead-like”.)
“Pushing it, Zooble.”
“…Right.”
We walk the rest of the way back to Jax’s room in silence.
*Hour three: 9AM *
Jax’s room has always been…interesting, to me. It’s aggressively girly, all pink and with little star decorations on the walls and glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. Specifically it’s a lot like a *little* girl’s room, which is even more…interesting. Ragatha’s room is pink too, but even hers doesn’t look as aggressively little girlish as his. He even has a pink and purple quilt that he hides under the generic blue hospital blanket so that the others can’t see it, and there used to be a little tea table set in his room, before we had to take it away and put it in a playroom because it was plastic and too easy to throw. I mean, he didn’t *choose* this room of course, as far as I know, none of get to *choose* our rooms. When I was a patient, my bedroom was basically my own personal hell. The walls were basically ALL mirrors, and whatever wasn’t a mirror was painted in these bright, garish colors. All the cabinets and doors had these weird child locks, which, no idea why mine had those and Jax’s doesn’t. But yeah, glad that I got the fuck out of there and can sleep in a generic on-call room, now. My point is, my room felt like it was personally designed to *torture* me, and sometimes I wonder if that’s what’s up with Jax’s, too. Is he really *that* insecure in his masculinity? Or, well…just…he’s got *something* going on with that.
Honestly all that speculation is interesting and all, but it’s kind of on the back burner right now. First we have to figure out how to even actually *communicate* with him again. I hold a cup of yogurt and a cup of applesauce out to Jax, who’s already in his bed again, to ask which he wants. He tilts his head, presumably so that he can see the options better, with his good eye. Then he looks up at me, like he wants to ask for something else. But he doesn’t even *try* to sign whatever he does want, so we kind of just stare at each other for a minute until Caine interrupts. “Here we are, buddy.” He hands Jax a rabbit stuffed animal, then pushes the over-bed table to be actually over the bed, takes the both the cups out of my hands and places them on the table, along with a small carton of chocolate milk. I can tell he’s trying to be his usual over-the-top toxically positive self, but he still seems a little ticked and he isn’t joyfully shouting everything he says like he normally would. Jax, meanwhile, would normally chuck the plush rabbit back in Caine’s face, offended at even the SUGGESTION that he might want it. Instead he stuffs it under his blanket beside himself, I guess not wanting to let go of it, but also not wanting to just hold it out in the open. Breaking down sobbing in front of me is alright, but holding a toy in front of me just crosses the line, apparently. Jax grabs the yogurt and tries to open it for a good two seconds before Caine takes it out of his hands and opens it for him. I’m kind of just standing awkwardly by the window the whole time. It’s still raining, and *apparently*, as I learned like two days ago, Jax is afraid of thunderstorms now. So that can’t help. I guess it’s not *entirely* useless that I’m here, since Jax obviously *wants* me here, but I have no idea what to do. I feel like a broom that’s been placed against the wall or, something else reductive like that. Caine seems to feel similarly.
“Alright, Zooble, you can probably go back to fixing up that exam room again. Honestly, not entirely sure we even needed your help in the first place,” He says, with a tone like he’s still on edge with me, but is trying to sound cheerful. “Besides…Jax and I have to have a *talk.*”
Jax absolutely does *not* feel the same way, of course. His ears stiffen up and his pupils go insanely small again, and he looks at me, distressed. He tries to sign what I think is supposed to be “stay”, but he’s not doing it right at all, just pushing down on the air in front of him. It’s gotta be “stay”, though, and I’m not a big fan of the way Caine said “talk”. I’d feel godawful if I left Jax alone with him and he ended up getting beaten or something. I mean, Caine wouldn’t do that, he would never, but…I don’t know. Knocking over the sharps box and making a mess was a dangerous, jerk move but, I worry that Caine’s “talk” with him about it won’t *actually* be a calm and controlled talk about emotional coping mechanisms. I…I better say *something*.
“Um…actually, I could really use a break from the cleaning…Oh, and! Pomni’s root canal is soon? You might wanna go make sure she actually like, gets ready and crap. I could watch Jax for you and you could talk with him later.”
“Pomni’s root canal is at three, Zooble.”
“[%$#!], is it not like twelve already?”
“It’s still nine am, Zooble.”
“Oh [%$#!] me. But, uh….Oh! Just think about how long it takes you to even get Pomni to brush her teeth. Don’t you think it would be better to get a head start, early?”
Caine sighs and shakes his head. “I know what you’re trying to do.”
“Y-yeah!” I randomly butt in before I know what I’m gonna say, just trying to make sure that I don’t leave Jax alone with this asshole. (God what am I even saying??? Defending *Jax* from an asshole was not something I thought I’d ever say or do.) “I’m trying to keep Jax from getting *hurt.*”
Caine whips around to face me, furious, clearly getting ready to give me an absolute earful. But he interrupts himself with a cartoonishly deep inhale. “You know what, I need the break anyways. You have an *hour.*” He walks out, slamming the door behind him. Jax flinches.
“[%$!#] man, what happened to you?” I ask, rhetorically, and plop down on the chair next to Jax’s bed.
Jax rolls his eyes. Huh, he must’ve actually *gotten* that. That’s…good.
We sit in awkward silence for a while, while Jax finishes eating his yogurt, and I just kind of stare at my hands and out the window, spiraling a bit. I hope I didn’t screw Pomni over too bad by sending Caine to deal with her. I’ve screwed her over enough. I mean hell, I kind of WAS screwing her over by running off to take care of Jax’s thing instead of just letting Caine handle it right then…But she *does* need a root canal, it’s not like all the bullshit medications and blood draws and x-rays and MRI’s she gets. And she can at least still roundhouse kick Caine in the stomach if she needs to. And she’d do it, too! I chuckle a bit at that thought, but then I’m immediately pulled back to reality by the thought that no matter how long I stay with Jax, eventually I’m gonna *have* to leave him alone with Caine, and I’ll just have *delayed* whatever fucked up thing Caine is gonna do to him. It’s gonna happen. And I can’t stop it. Unless I somehow decide to and convince Caine to let me entirely take over Jax’s care and teach myself to stay up all night so that he’s never left alone. Oh god. That’s really just all I can do here, isn’t it? Just delay the inevitable.
“Z—zzz—Zz—“ Jax snaps me back out of my own head by trying to say something. Consonants are a bit easier for him to say, and if he speaks really quietly it’s like he can sort of go “under” the usual glitchy filter his voice is typically put through, so sometimes he’s able to say the “zzzz” part of my name. “Sss” and “mmm” are also easier for him.
“Yeah?”
Jax holds the applesauce out towards me, looking away. He says something, one word, but the glitchy filter completely takes it over, so I don’t know what. But I think he wants help opening it, based on the bite marks on the lid. (Ohh, him wanting both things would explain why he didn’t choose one earlier.) I take it and open it for him, then hand it back. He puts his hand on his chin and then moves it away, signing “thank you”. Still looking away from me, but…Damn.
That’s…that’s different, to say the least. Good, I guess, but…different. I appreciate Jax being polite for once and all, but I…don’t like how I think we got to that point. I wonder if there was ever any way to make him get better without just totally screwing him over and traumatizing him like this. I think there is. God, I hope there is. But it’s not like we can turn back time and find out.
“Zzz…*Ooble?*”
“Oh! Right, right, uh…you’re welcome.” I don’t know the sign for “you’re welcome” or “of course” or anything, so I just give him a thumbs up.
He doesn’t look back at me.

“…Hey, why did you make a mess and scream like that in the exam room, anyways?”
I sit back down in the chair, crossing my arms. I’m a bit more comfortable now that Caine has left the room. Before I might’ve taken Jax’s sudden shift in attitude as a sign that he was trying to trick me, and been on guard about that too, but like I said before, his abstraction seems to make it a bit harder for him to do stuff like that now. And if he isn’t really able to do stuff like that anymore, then I’m kind of genuinely curious why he would throw a tantrum like that. I’m not sure that he was trying to get anything he *wanted.*
Jax shrugs. That’s another one of his tics, but I think he’s trying to actually shrug like, as body language here.
“Did you…not want Caine to give you the injection?”
He nods, still avoiding eye contact with me. Also one of his tics, but he definitely means it as a “yes” here. I wish he’d just *sign* “yes” or “no”, like, with his hands, but I could definitely see him wanting some sort of plausible deniability when it comes to talking about how he actually feels, and that plausible deniability is probably one of the only things letting him open up to me even this much right now. (The other things being that he seems to want to get a break from Caine at all costs, and that he’s already completely and totally broken down in front of me, so.)
“…Yeah. It hurts a lot, huh?”
Jax doesn’t respond to that in any way. He just keeps eating his applesauce, still avoiding eye contact.
“…Has Caine tried numbing spray or anything like that?…I know it hurts, but it’s keeping you *alive*, dude. We can’t just *not* give it to you. Best we can do is find a way to make the pain a little bit better.”
It’s quiet for a bit, then Jax says *something.* About one sentence, 16 words? He might just be stuttering a bit, though.
“…I’m sorry, Jax, I…can’t understand you.”
He finally looks at me, tears welling up in his eyes again, I think at least in part out of pure frustration.
“Oh, bud—I mean…Jax.” Jax *hates* being called “buddy”. No idea why Caine does it so much. “Here, uh. Let’s try this.” There are some papers and crayons in one of the drawers, so I get up and mess with my keys for a moment, looking for the right one (There might not be *child locks*, but Caine did lock all the cabinets and drawers after the whole incident in the exam room), and grab some of the papers and a box of crayons once I get it open. “I know you hate the injections. And I can guess that you…don’t think they’re worth the pain. But stopping them just isn’t an option right now. You *will* abstract. And we can*not* let that happen. But we can…make you feel better. Here.”
I draw a quick sketch of Jax sitting on an exam table and Caine with a syringe, in black crayon on the paper. I’m not very happy with how it turned out, but it’ll do for communicating with him. “Draw what we can do to help you feel better when you get your medicine.” I hand him the paper and a red crayon, so that it’ll be easier to see which parts are his own drawings. Jax looks at it for a second, closing his abstracted eye. Then he immediately sets it down on his bed table and starts drawing. Whenever I actually get time to draw, I can’t stand it when others look over my shoulder, so I just sit back down on the armchair and let him go at it, even though I’m kind of curious what he could be scribbling down so hard.
Eventually he makes another glitchy noise to get my attention and hands the paper back to me. He hasn’t changed anything besides aggressively scribbling Caine out, to the point there are some holes ripped in the paper. I think it’s supposed to be a joke. It admittedly gets a small laugh out of me, which in turn gets a giant stupid smile out of Jax. It’s nice to see him not completely miserable, I guess.
“Seriously, though, dude. Has Caine given you numbing spray or anything? He’s not an—,” I was about to say “an idiot” but I actually think he very much is one. “…He is a trained nurse. I’ve seen him use it on all the others. He’s even given me some and I’m not even afraid of needles.”
Jax frowns. He puts the paper back on the table and keeps drawing, just shrugging his shoulder as a response. Or maybe a tic. Actually, that one would make a lot more sense as a tic, I don’t really *get* how it answers my question. And eventually Jax seems to decide to actually try to answer, making a noise that I’m pretty sure is a “yeah”.
“Does that help with the pain a bit at least?”
“Yeah.” (At least I think it’s a “yeah.”)
“…But it still hurts a lot?”
He doesn’t respond, just still drawing.
“…Has Caine tried anything else, besides the numbing spray?”
Jax pulls the plush rabbit out from under the blanket and places it on his left side so that it’s facing me. It takes me a minute to fully process what he’s saying, to be completely honest. Then I remember Caine mentioning something about getting Jax a plushie to hold onto during his injections, which I’m pretty sure I said was “stupid”. I kinda thought Jax would just be offended by it.
“Oh, that thing? Has it…helped?” I get up from my chair real quick and grab the plush, just to get a look at it. It’s really soft, with brown spots and pink hearts on its cheeks. Jax immediately grabs its arm, looking at me with serious distress in his eyes, again.
“Oh! Oh [%$!#], guess it has. Sorry, dude.”
He grunts something in response, looks away, and stuffs it under his blanket again, then goes back to drawing, using his arm to hide whatever he’s drawing from me. I can’t help but steal a few glances at it whenever he moves his arm to wipe his eyes, but I never look long enough to see what it actually is. I just sit back down in the chair again.
“You know, dude, you don’t have to be embarrassed about your stuffed animal. Ragatha sleeps with a stuffed horse and she even carries a *baby doll* around sometimes, now. Gangle’s always slept with and carried around a plush anime doll. Even *I* have that little salamander over my computer monitor. Nobody would judge you for it.”
Jax pauses his scribbling for a moment. He looks up, but not at me. Then he keeps scribbling, making more careful effort to hide the paper with his arm. Finally the scribbling noises stop. He sniffs and pulls away from the table, twisting his hands to sign “all done”.
“You finished drawing? Can I see?”
He nods, but looks away.
“Jax, I need you to use your signs. I can’t tell if you’re ticcing or not when you nod and I wanna be sure that I understand what you mean,” I sigh. “You just ball your hand up in a fist and move it up and down for yes and side to side for no, remember? Like it’s nodding and shaking it like it’s a head.” I model it with my own hand but of course Jax refuses to look towards me. He just pushes the paper across the table in my direction. That’s probably the closet I’m getting to a yes, so I go ahead and take the paper.

…Oh.
It’s me. Jax scribbled out Caine and drew me on the other side. Admittedly in a pretty insulting way. He made my eyes crossed and drew what I think are stink lines. But that’s me.
Triangle head, collared shirt, slacks and an employee badge (which he’s made comically large). The only things about my appearance that ever stay the same. He also added in his stuffed rabbit, sitting next to him on the exam table, and drew lightly with the crayon to make everything look dark.
“…You want *me* to come back to helping with your injections?”
He nods, still looking away. The fact that he fucking *bit* me last time I tried to help says otherwise, but I’m not sure how else to interpret this drawing. He says something, about one sentence. But I can’t make any of what he says out.
“And you want it to be dark. Like it is right now?” (We had turned off the lights to let in some natural sunlight. It’s raining outside, but still kind of sunny, and Jax chills out a bit in the dark now.)
“Yeah…” (Again, at least I think it’s a yeah. He nods, too. Wish he’d sign.)
“We can dim the lights a bit. I’ll need to be able to clearly see what I’m doing, but I bet they’ll let us at least dim them.
And you want your bunny stuffed animal to be with you, too. Right?”
Jax doesn’t respond to that one at all, instead pulling his blanket up farther over himself.
“…Okay. Yeah, I can talk to Caine about doing all that.”
Finally Jax looks back at me. His pupils are small again, but he seems less distressed and more…surprised. He signs “thank you” again. I just sign “thank you” back.
*Hour four: 10AM*
I don’t really know why, but I folded up the drawing and stuffed it in my pocket. When Caine came back to the room, he kind of “politely” shoved me out before I could even get a single word in. Now I’m stuck just cleaning up the exam room and alone with my own thoughts again. I hear Jax cry a couple times (he still hasn’t realized how thin the hospital walls are, I don’t think), and I mean, I feel bad for him I guess, but I can’t exactly run to his rescue. It takes me an honest-to-god fucking HOUR to clean everything up, so it becomes a little hard to let my heart bleed for him again. I just…ugh. His…*our* whole situation is…complicated. To say the least.
*Hour five: 11AM*
Ok, 11. I always make everybody lunch at 11, and now that I’ve already got some chores done, I feel like I’ve got the ball rolling and it’ll be easier. I head back to the kitchen/employee break room, only to suddenly be reminded by the giant pile of dishes in the sink that I need to do dishes. I groan and cuss the whole time I’m doing it, but I manage to clean up enough dishes to make lunch for everyone, and do. A peanut butter & jelly sandwich & an apple for Ragatha since it’s kind of one of the only meals she’ll eat, instant ramen for Gangle & Pomni, and oatmeal for Jax. I guess I should probably give Pomni hers first, so that I can talk to her. At least I’ll have the walk over to her room to gather my thoughts. I put everything on one of those carts with the messed up wheels we have and start walking.
Man, what *am* I gonna say? Hey, Pomni, you know how you’re not sick??? Yeah, turns out you’re basically a lab rat and Caine is using you to make Jax’s abstraction meds. Yeah, there’s nothing you or I can do about it! Sorry! I’m lucky that technically we can’t die here and I’ve never delivered the bad news that someone’s gonna *die*, but Caine’s had me give bad news before and usually I’m kind of okay at it. This whole situation specifically is just driving me insane, I—I don’t know what to do about any of it.
“NO NO NO NO NOOOO!”
Shit. Jax. I stop in my tracks, the plates on the cart all clattering against each other. At least I think he’s saying “no”. It’s definitely his voice and he’s definitely screaming and crying, much louder and a lot more upset than the earlier crying. God, what’s happening to him now? Caine is using that fuckass shock bracelet on him again, I guess, but, he sounds even more distressed than before. Something could be seriously wrong. I turn to run back to them but freeze again. I need to talk to Pomni as soon as possible. If I run off and go to take care of Jax now, it’ll just delay talking to her even longer, and her root canal is coming up quick. I have to stop being a coward and using every little distraction as an excuse to avoid finally telling her. If I fuck up and I don’t tell her for an entire *day*, she’ll be even more furious with me than she probably already will be. But I feel like this is different, maybe, I—Jax *needs* my help. Hell, he *asked* for it! What kind of message does it send to him to finally muster up the balls to ask for help and then *not get it?* Besides, Pomni is nice, empathetic. She would understand me being too busy today to get a chance to tell her. She knows I tried, I did this morning. Even told her to remind me to talk to her. That shows I wasn’t trying to hide it or anything, I think.
That scream was concerning. I know Jax lets himself scream and cry when he’s in his room or an exam room sometimes, especially since he abstracted, cuz he doesn’t seem to realize that the walls are *not* soundproof, but that scream sounded even more upset than when he got shocked, more upset than when he was trying to stop Caine from pushing him out the door. The poor guy must seriously be in pain or—Wait, fuck, no, what am I thinking? This is *Jax* we’re talking about. He could be screeching bloody murder because Caine told him he couldn’t have fucking…I don’t know, ice cream or some shit. He could be screaming because he thinks it’s funny to break Caine’s ear drums, or whatever he has in place of them. Pomni’s first night, Jax snuck out of his room and screamed in front of her door to convince her that we basically surgically torture everybody on a nightly basis. Imagine if I run to his rescue, shirking Pomni off a *second* time, only to find out that he’s just playing a trick on me, and end up stuck there anyway because Caine’s still mad at me and he decides to give me a full written pop quiz on FND because fuck me, I guess. I’m mad at Caine, and right now, to be perfectly honest, I hate him a lot more than I hate Jax. He’s acting so fucked up. But even he wouldn’t stoop so low as to give Jax an *actual* reason to scream like that. The shock bracelet is horrible, but Caine seems to justify that by some degree of separation or something. He would never actually lay a *hand* on him. I’ve known Caine for two years now, and I’ve been his *coworker* for like 23 months of that. His *friend* for a lot of it. He wouldn’t do that. Well, I mean, I guess even with that, I never thought he would do anything that he’s doing to Pomni, either, but…here we are. Okay, theoretically, let’s say Jax really *is* in a lot of pain right now and needs my help, for any reason. Jax is never *not* in pain. He will always need my help. Or somebody’s help. Maybe not Caine’s, but *somebody’s*. He needs that help and I still think he should get it, but, physically, I can*not* be there for him every second that he needs me. Otherwise no one else would ever get any care, either. Pomni is in a more unique situation. She needs to be talked to, like, now. And, I mean, I don’t think Jax deserves to be in pain or anything, but when it comes down to the two of them, who do you expect me to choose? The guy who tries to steal my parts and break Gangle’s mask for a laugh, or the new patient who literally hasn’t done anything to anybody yet? I-I should talk to Pomni, I guess. Ugh, but *shit*, what if Jax really is being hurt right now and I run off and do something that could arguably *wait* a day or two? Maybe I should go check on him. Oh, but if Caine *is* hurting him, how am I even supposed to convince him to stop? We’ve already argued so much today, and yesterday. I’m so tempted to fucking sock him in the jaw again but if I do that Dr. Abel’ll definitely have me locked up in a padded room and straight-jacket, just another beaten-down patient in this fucked up hospital again. I should focus on what I can control. Which is talking to Pomni. Ugh, but if I at least *try* to talk to Caine, maybe it could signal to Jax that he *does* have someone on his side, even if I fail. I—I don’t know what to do.
Hour six: 12AM
Fuck, it’s 12 already. I’ve been standing here trying to decide for an hour! The food’s all cold and the ramen’s turned to mush. Enough, I just gotta pick one and go. Pomni.
The PA system beeps.
“Code yellow, patient #003.”
**“[$%!#]!”**
I abandon the food and run towards the psych section of the hospital, where Dr. Moon’s office is. Code yellow means a missing patient. #003 is *Ragatha*. My walkie beeps as I’m running and I have to awkwardly get it out of my pocket, still running, so that I can hear it properly. “Zooble, I can’t find Ragatha,” Dr. Moon’s voice says through the static-y radio waves.
“Yeah, I heard!” Admittedly my tone isn’t exactly *respectful*, but Moon doesn’t call me out on it before I can keep talking. “I’m on my way to your office right now. She might’ve come back.”
“I’ve already checked my office about five minutes ago, and her room. I’m checking the other patients’ rooms right now, and I sent Gangle to look in the pool. You go check the west wing.”
“Ragatha wouldn’t go in the west wing unless somebody made her, I don’t—“
“Better safe than sorry. We should still check there.”
I suppress the urge to groan and completely reroute where I’m running to so that I can go to the west wing.
“Any chance you’re checking Pomni’s room? I’ve caught Ragatha hiding in supply closets before, you should send Pomni to go check those.”
“I am, but we shouldn’t ask Pomni to do that. She’s a patient, too. She needs to rest.”
I feel like a fucking kettle that’s about to explode. Might as well have been steaming out of my ears all day, and now here I am, fucking exploding.
“*AUGH!*” I throw the walkie-talkie on the ground and stomp on it, crushing it. The hard plastic on the outside cracks and reveals all the weird tech-y junk inside, like crushing the exoskeleton of a bug to reveal the weird goop it has inside instead of blood & organs. Fuck Dr. Moon. I’m checking the supply closets, I know Ragatha better than her, and that’s where she hides. I don’t know why or how the fuck she’s hiding, since Dr. Moon really should’ve been keeping an eye on her this entire time, but somehow she’s just missing and *I* need to find her. I wipe tears from my eyes.
Hour seven: 1PM
I’ve checked all the supply closets and the and the stairwells and the elevators. No luck. She wasn’t in any of the bathrooms or the sensory or playrooms either, and those are the places I usually find her when she’s crying and wants to hide away. She’s fucking terrified of the west wing, the only times we’ve caught her going in there are when Jax forces her to come with him, and he’s definitely stuck with Caine. I’ll…I’ll keep looking.
Hour eight: 2PM
No luck in the west wing. Or anywhere else, for that matter.
Hour nine: 3PM
Somehow me and Gangle and Dr. Moon all find ourselves back in the communal room, after not being able to find her anywhere else. It would be a terrible spot to hide, but she’s not in any of the *good* hiding spots, so here we are.
“Zooble! There you are,” Dr. Moon says as she locks eyes with me. Luckily she doesn’t seem that pissed about our walkie-talkie exchange, or even aware that it was kind of my fault I cut out. “Have you found anything? Gangle and I have been trying to radio you for *hours!*”
“Yeah, my walkie kinda…broke.” Technically not a lie. “I haven’t found any sign of her anywhere. Have you guys?”
Dr. Moon and Gangle both shake their heads no. “I’ve searched every patient room on this floor, and checked the security footage. I didn’t see her anywhere on there.”
“So I checked all the security cameras’ blind spots, but I didn’t find her anywhere either,” Gangle adds.
“Maybe she got outside somehow? Did you check the outdoor cameras too?” All the doors that lead outside are supposed to be locked basically 24/7, but they’ve been broken out of before. Mostly…mostly when *I* lose my keys or forget to lock the door, but I kind of have other things to feel shitty about right now.
“Of course I did.“
I groan in frustration, probably for the like, seventeenth time today.
“How did she even get out of your sight? I thought you were giving her a bunch of tests!”
Dr. Moon sighs and adjusts her glasses. “I let her go take a break in her own room so that she could eat lunch without feeling watched. I came to get her 30 minutes later and she was gone. Usually you can trust Ragatha with something like that.“
“Not right now! She’s all—“ I wave my hands above my head. “Agh!”
“I’m not around 24/7 like you are, Zooble, I didn’t know that. You need to communicate things like that with me. But how she got lost isn’t as important as finding her right now.” Dr. Moon glares at me a little bit and I glare back.
“No, actually, it’s pretty important! I never got her lunch to her before she went missing. She must’ve been hungry. Has anyone checked the cafeteria and the kitchen?”
“I did,” Gangle pipes up. Shit. I would’ve looked like House or something if she was actually in there. But I am admittedly pretty damn far from House, so that’s to be expected, I guess.
Dr. Moon’s radio beeps. “Dr. Moon?” It’s…Pomni’s voice?
“Yes, this is Dr. Moon. Is this Pomni? Where are you? How did you get a walkie-talkie?”
“Yeah. Gummigoo and I went looking for Ragatha and we found her.”
The three of us all breathe a simultaneous giant sigh of relief.
“This is his walkie-talkie. She’s not coming inside willingly but she’s outside in the back, on that blue bench with the weird slant. We don’t really wanna or know how to drag her inside but she can’t stay out *here*.”
Pomni’s right. It’s still pouring rain outside and it’s probably fucking freezing, given that it was flurrying this morning. Hopefully Ragatha thought to grab a coat or a change of clothes from her room but if she didn’t she’s just in her flimsy hospital gown. She’ll catch a cold on top of all the shit she’s already got.
“We’re on our way,” I say, a bit loudly so that Pomni can actually hear me over the glitchy radio.
“Yes, we’ll be right there,” Dr. Moon adds and ends the transmission, clipping the walkie back onto her white coat. “Zooble, get a wheelchair, one with a seatbelt. I don’t want us to have to carry her all the way up to the second floor. Gangle, you go ahead and head down there and meet up with them and see if you can help.”
Gangle and I both nod. “Right.”
It takes me a bit longer to find a wheelchair with a seatbelt, but eventually I do find one and Dr. Moon and I get our coats and head outside to the bench Pomni described. The ground is muddy and slippery and gross, and the rain is beating down like a drum now. Normally I like the sound and smell of the rain but God knows not in *this* situation.
“*LET ME GOOOO!!!*” We hear Ragatha’s shrill voice screaming and sobbing before she’s even in our eye line.
“Jesus Christ, what kind of tests were you doing on her to make her act like this?!” I shout towards Dr. Moon, half cuz I’m angry and half cuz I have to shout to even be heard over the rain.
“I assure you, this wasn’t because of my tests! We had just finished a questionnaire and an interview, and I was starting the IQ test when she asked for a lunch break. There was nothing that could’ve upset her *this* much. We hadn’t even started Dr. Abel’s test yet, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Well, *you’re* the [%$!#]ing psychiatrist! Shouldn’t you know what the [%$!#]’s wrong with her? Why is she acting like this? Her last freak-out was obviously cuz of the [%$!#][%$!#] ‘escape the hospital’ game, but *nothing* seems to have triggered this one! The only thing that possibly could’ve was *you*!”
Moon pauses. “Zooble, you are being *rude*.”
Fuck. “S-sorry, ma’am. Doctor. Sorry, Doctor.” I’m pissed as fuck but I guess I really didn’t mean to be *rude*. At least not to Dr. Moon, I bet she doesn’t even know about what’s *really* stressing me out. Something about the way she said that just…diffused me. Made me feel like when I was a little kid and my mom would shoot me That Look all over again.
“I need to do more tests with Ragatha, but I have an idea from the tests we have done of what could be causing this. I’ll have to have a talk with you tomorrow, after all the testing is completed.”
We finally reach Ragatha, Pomni, Gangle, and Gummigoo before I’m able to respond to that. Ragatha is screaming and kicking and writhing in *Gummigoo’s* arms, which, Gummigoo restraining someone is something I never thought I’d see. I don’t think he’s doing it right, either—he’s got one arm wrapped around her torso and arms, his free hand holding both of her hands, and one of his legs wrapped over hers so that her kicking isn’t as bad as it could be—but he is a *dentist*, so you can’t really blame him for not knowing how to properly hold somebody down. Usually Caine just ties people up for him, although he’s said that doesn’t actually help. He’s also wrapped her in his giant puffy coat since she apparently did come out in this weather in nothing but her thin hospital gown, so at least he’s trying to be considerate.
“Little help here?” He strains over Ragatha’s continued attempts to wriggle out of his makeshift restraint. She goes limp once she sees me and Moon though, and stops yelling coherent things, instead just flopping like—well, like a ragdoll— and sobbing. There’s enough cement in this little area to easily get her back into the building with just the wheelchair, so I unfold it, and Dr. Moon and Gangle take her out of Gummigoo’s arms and buckle her in. She could fight it a little more than she is fighting it, but it seems like she’s kind of losing steam. “Feisty little mozzie *bit* me *twice*…,” Gummigoo mutters as he stands, examining a small bite mark on his arm. Jesus fucking Christ. Dr. Moon gives a disapproving hum. Ragatha barely manages to sob out what I think is an “I’m sorry” but I’m honestly not sure whether she means it as a sorry for biting him or a sorry for…all of this, in general. She keeps trying to say “I’m sorry” for a while, shaking her hands a bit, before Pomni interrupts.
“It’s okay, Ragatha. We understand. We’re just glad that you’re safe now.”
Dr. Gummigoo nods. “It doesn’t really even hurt, ya just surprised me. Let’s just get ya inside where it’s warm, love.”
Ragatha whines something. It’s about as easy to understand her through her tears as it is to understand Jax through his new voice. Nobody really addresses it, so I just start pushing the chair towards one of the doors inside. Poor Ragatha is getting *soaked.* Wish one of us had thought to bring an umbrella.
“Oh, uh, Dr. Moon?” Gummigoo says as we approach the door. “We might’ve kinda told Ragatha she could have some hot chocolate when she came inside, would ya mind…?”
Moon just frowns.
“I-I could make her some,” Gangle says. I give her a small smile. I was gonna say the same thing.
“Let’s just get out of the rain.” Moon holds open the door, letting all four of us shuffle in. “Then we’ll see.”
——
“I think Ragatha needs a break,” I mutter. It’s a bit harder to hear the rain in the elevator, but it’s still loud. And we’re all dripping wet, making a puddle on the elevator floor. And the A/C in here is fucking freezing when you’re wet, so we’re all shivering like tiny dogs, even Dr. Moon. Ragatha has decided to hide her face in the coat Gummigoo gave her and Moon has just been watching her, occasionally adjusting her glasses. She nods, which causes them to fall down the crescent shape of her face. She pushes them up again as the elevator dings and opens to let us off on the second floor, where most everything is.
“We should give her a hot bath and a 20-minute nap,” She says, matter-of-factly, like it’s a prescription.
“Maybe an hour or so in the sensory room?” I tack on. Trying to be helpful. I think Ragatha peeks at me through the coat, but I can’t tell. “And she can have that hot chocolate Gangle is making for her. Then she might be ready to talk about what’s upsetting her.”
Dr. Moon gives another one of those disapproving hums. “I’m worried that might feel like a bit of a *reward.*”
“I mean, I guess I think the hot chocolate was supposed be a bribe to get her to come inside, but I don’t see why she can’t have it now that’s she’s *inside* and Gangle is already making it. And I don’t really see how the sensory room is a *reward*.”
“Well, Ragatha had to be *forced* inside, so again, I don’t really know about the hot chocolate. I just figured it might help Gangle to have a task to complete right now. And the sensory room is good for regulating and all, but it has so many toys and everything—it can start to feel more like a play room, you know. Ragatha has run away and hid from us, presumably tried to run away *again* given how Dr. Gummigoo was holding her, and *bit* *him* **twice**. I think a bath and a nap will be kind enough.”

That bothers me. I can’t string together enough words to explain it, but it bothers me. I guess it’s better than nothing, but…I sigh. We make it to Ragatha’s room and Moon opens the door for me so that I can push her in.
“Try to keep the bath about 15 minutes or so, then put her straight to bed. I’ll be back once you’re done to continue the testing.”
“Aw man, I…can’t we just let her chill out today? Finish your tests tomorrow? She seems really [%$!#]ing upset…”
“I already told you, Zooble. This small break should be enough to get her ready to finish the tests. She doesn’t need to be rewarded for her behavior today.”
“I don’t think it counts as a *reward*, I just…” I still can’t find the right words to explain myself. “I mean isn’t it kind of wasteful to have Gangle make the hot chocolate and then have nobody actually drink it???”
Moon sighs and turns back to me, ready to give me a lecture, I bet.
“I don’t want hot chocolate…” Ragatha mutters before Moon can say anything, her voice slightly muffled by Gummigoo’s coat.
“Oh, my dear. Are you ready to speak with us now?” Dr. Moon only seems a little surprised by Ragatha talking again, and responds pretty quickly. Ragatha takes a minute but nods, pulling the coat off her face but keeping her eyes fixed on the floor.
“I-I-I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to—to run away or—or *hide* or-or-or *bite* I just,”—She gasps—“I just—I just wanted to *go* and-and he was holding me really really tightly and—and I just wanted him to let me go and-and I’m sorryyyy…” She breaks down into sobbing again, rubbing her legs with her hands I think to try and calm herself down. Moon takes her hands in hers, gently.
“I accept your apology, sweetie. We’ll get Gummigoo tomorrow so that you can apologize to him, too. Can you tell us why you went outside at all?”
Ragatha looks up at her. Moon is like a good *7* feet tall, and Ragatha’s barely over 5, and is sitting, so that’s a pretty far way up to look. Then she looks up at me. Her eyes have this desperate, *sad* sparkle to them, not really “like” she’s about to cry cuz, she…*is* about to cry. But there’s something more there. She looks back towards Dr. Moon.
“I-I don’t know….”
“You…don’t…know,” Moon repeats, in a tone like she doesn’t believe it.
“I-I-I don’t! I-I-I don’t know…I-I—,” Ragatha sobs and hiccups. She pulls her hands away from her, then starts shaking them again.
“Did—Did you maybe feel like you needed a break from all the testing?” I butt in, hoping to give Ragatha something to latch onto and pull her out of this hole she’s dug for herself. She stammers for a solid minute, I think trying to form a coherent sentence, before she just squeaks out another “I don’t know.”
“Hm. We should wait to talk about this until you’ve calmed down. Zooble? Help Ragatha in the bath, please.”
“R-Right.” I go to help Ragatha stand and unbuckle the belt, but she gets up on her own before I can hold her hands.
“I-I can do it…” She mutters. She then mutters something even more so that I can’t tell what she’s saying at all, but I think it’s “myself”. I would normally listen to her, but her face looks so fucking pale, like it does every time before she faints, and I can’t help myself but grab onto her arm, which, understandably given what just happened, makes her freak out a bit and try to pull away, making incoherent whines instead of solid words.
“**Ragatha.**” Dr. Moon says in a firm voice. Ragatha freezes. The whole room freezes for a second, actually. I look back and forth between Moon and Ragatha. It genuinely feels like we’re encased in a giant block of ice. I become suddenly and painfully aware that the room has a bit of a mildew-y smell. There must be a leak on her ceiling somewhere from all the rain or something. I make a mental note to look for that leak tomorrow, but I know I can’t trust my brain to show me that list of mental notes again in the morning. I’m sure it’ll come up again, somehow.
Suddenly there’s a crack in the ice as Moon slightly leans back. It feels okay to help Ragatha lower herself back down to the wheelchair again, so I do. I hope she doesn’t feel too scared or upset or anything, but, I don’t really want to ask with Dr. Moon still here. She actually mostly seems really out of it. Her face is the palest I’ve ever seen it and her eyes have this far-off look, like she’s not really looking at anything at all, and her breathing’s a bit heavy. She looks a lot like she does before she faints even while sitting down, when her blood pressure is so low that she needs my help brushing her hair.
“Dr. Moon, I…I think there could be something physical going on here, too. Would you mind giving us time to check her vitals and stuff?”
“Oh. Well, I’m mostly here to test her mental health and I can’t say I’m much of an expert on general physical health, but, she honestly seems to be having mostly mental symptoms, to me. But you may, of course, I just think that you’d want to get Nurse Caine if you think it’s something physical?”
“No!” I shout before I can even process what I’m saying. “No, no. I-I know how to check vitals. It’s easy. I’ll do it.”
“Hm. Alright then. Let me know if you find anything.” She finally leaves us alone. I breathe a giant sigh of relief.
“Are you ok?” I ask Ragatha.
There’s a long pause.
“I—I don’t know…”
She breaks down sobbing again.
I manage to get her in the bath, and she tries to talk with me a few times while I’m helping her, but she doesn’t really manage to make it past the blubbering. I try to take it a bit slower than I normally would to calm her down, but it doesn’t do much. Then I help her get dressed, into her nightgown so that she’ll be warmer, and have her lay down in bed. I think I can see at least some degree of relief wash over her as her head hits the pillow. She shuts her eyes and practically immediately passes out. I guess getting her vitals will be a little harder while she’s asleep, and she might not like that very much, so I’ll just wait until she wakes up. Well, really I think she wouldn’t mind, but I don’t want to do shit like that. I sit down in the white armchair across from her bed and watch her, for a little while. Her blanket rising and falling with each of her breaths. I think her breathing is good, now, at least. That’s a good sign. To be perfectly honest, I kind of agree with Dr. Moon. I think Ragatha’s freakout right now is mostly mental, and very little physical contributors if there are any. I just…I guess I was trying to find some way to validate it, to make Moon *believe* her, to show it wasn’t Ragatha’s fault, somehow? Don’t get me wrong, even if this is entirely due to mental issues I still don’t think it’s her *fault*, I just…not everyone always thinks that. Y’know?
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. Ragatha’s asleep, Jax is with Caine and has stopped screaming. Pomni’s with Gummigoo in the middle of a root canal. I have so much to do, but I genuinely actually can’t do any of it right now. Maybe I could check on Jax & Caine. But god, when do I ever get peace like this? I-I don’t wanna ruin it. Maybe I should just sit here and try to think of what I’ll say to Pomni. Honestly I don’t really want to, but when the thought that I *could* be doing that pops into my head, I know that I’ll just feel insanely guilty doing anything else. So. Uhh… *Hey, Pomni…I have to talk to you about something really important. I don’t want you to be like, upset with me, or anything, but like…Like I swear I didn’t know til*…No, no, I can’t *start* with that. What am I, an idiot? An asshole? Both? That just makes it sound like I really did play a role and am trying to pretend like I didn’t. I shake my head so that I can start over. Like erasing an etch-a-sketch. *Hey, Pomni, I have to talk to you about something really important.* That part’s good. Wait, no, I kind of already said that. Maybe she’ll say something like “what did you wanna talk to me about?” And I can just answer that. Right, right. That’s easier. Uhhh. Oh, God, I don’t know.
There’s a soft knock at the door. It’s only been a couple of minutes, so it can’t be Dr. Moon. Instead Gangle opens it, holding a tray of hot chocolates.
“Oh, Gangle, Dr. Moon said—,” I don’t know why I’m saying anything at all. I guess I just don’t want her to somehow get in trouble, too.
“I know, I know, she told me,” Gangle says, copying my whispering tone. She comes in and sets the tray on the dresser. “But if you ask me, I think she’s being a bit…silly.”
I breathe out, the closest I can really get to a laugh right now.
“Here. I thought you might need a pick-me-up. This one’s caffeinated.”
“Oh my god, are you the Virgin Mary or what? I owe you my life!” I respond, grabbing the hot chocolate and immediately taking a big swig. Which somehow immediately burns my non-existent tongue.
Gangle giggles a bit, then takes her own mug in her hands and looks towards Ragatha. “Did she fall asleep already?”
“I think so.”
“I wonder what’s upset her…”
I shrug. “Oh, she…also said she didn’t want any hot chocolate. She like…thinks she doesn’t deserve it or something, I think. I think Moon got to her.”
“Really?…Was Dr. Moon like, scolding her or being mean or something? That doesn’t sound like her.”
“No, no, she…she wasn’t scolding her. I mean, I guess she might’ve been being a little mean…? But like…normal…mean.”
“‘Normal mean’?”
“…For this hospital. Yeah.”
Gangle frowns, but she doesn’t argue. We both sit together in silence for a while. It isn’t as bad as all the other silences I’ve had today, though. It feels much…warmer.
Maybe that’s just the placebo effect of the warm drink in my hands. Which is still fucking burning me every time I take a sip, oh my fucking god. But honestly I think it’s because for once it’s with someone who I can comfortably consider my friend, even if she isn’t exactly her usual self right now.
“Have you gotten a chance to talk to Pomni yet?”
I swear I wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between the sound of that sentence and the sound of someone breaking a glass bottle over my head.
“N—no.”
“Thought about how you’re gonna tell her, at least?”
“A…A little bit. I just…” I groan, again. It’s quiet again, but this quiet feels a lot less warm. Luckily Gangle eventually breaks it.
“…You know, Zooble, if Ragatha was feeling better right now, I’m sure she’d be telling you thank you. I’m sure she appreciates it, even now when she’s not *saying* that.”
“Uh…Appreciates what?”
“Everything.” Gangle shrugs. “I know I do.”
I’m not sure I understand what Gangle is getting at, but for some reason it compels me to pull Jax’s folded up drawing out of my pocket and look at it. “What does that have to do with any of this?”
“Well…not much, honestly. I just thought…maybe you could use a reminder that you really do help us. Would you maybe want me to help you try to figure out how you’re gonna tell Pomni?”
“I….Yeah. Yeah, I would.” I nod, pocketing the drawing.
“Great! Then we’ve got work to do!”
Gangle and I sit together on Ragatha’s armchair, talking everything out until eventually Moon comes to take Ragatha back in. She wakes her up so we take her vitals, and most everything seems fine, but we check her blood sugar too and it’s a bit low, so Moon actually caves and lets her have the hot chocolate. (Well honestly it’s more like regular room temp chocolate milk now, but still.) Ragatha really does seem a bit more regulated now and goes back to testing with Dr. Moon willingly, but a part of me still wishes we could just give her the day off from all that. I make Gangle go with them again so that she can listen in on that test designed by Dr. Abel, make sure it’s not torture or anything and come get me if it is. A couple of minutes pass and she hasn’t run back or anything, so I guess maybe it’s fine. So here I am, alone with my thoughts again.
**Hour ten: 4PM**
I’ve got about 30 minutes till Pomni’s root canal is finished. 27 minutes, actually, if everything’s going according to schedule. Which, oh god, I kinda hope not. I wanna…I don’t wanna hold off on telling her, I guess, but I…wanna have time to gather my thoughts. Yeah, that’s it. Gathering my thoughts.
Oh god.
I leave Ragatha’s room and find myself walking up and down the halls, just kinda trying to find something to do. Normally at this time of day we would all be in the community room and I would just be on standby if anybody needs my help, but now everybody’s scattered all over the place and has somebody else there with them. Honestly, I feel a bit useless. I should do *something.* I’m always beating myself up for not fighting Abel enough, maybe this is my chance. I could go over Caine’s head and email him and try and convince him that the “abstraction project” isn’t worth all the money it’s costing.

Wait, no, shit.
Then Jax would die.
Without the medicine made from Pomni’s blood, Jax would fucking die. Or, well, he’d do the closest thing we can get to death in this place. He’d abstract. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t see it as ethical, far from it. If I told Pomni and she wanted it to stop, then, well…who could blame her, really? It’d be sad, I guess, but, at the end of the day…Still, I don’t wanna accidentally convince Dr. Abel to stop funding it and then find out that Pomni’s actually ok with it. (Crossing my fingers that she will be, by some insane miracle. Jax is an asshole but I don’t want him to fucking die if he doesn’t have to, because I’m *not* an asshole.) Better tell her first. Maybe I should email him about Jax’s shock bracelet, then. God, what could I say to convince him to stop *that*, though? I’ve emailed Abel a gazillion times, I know how *that* would go.
“Hey, that shock bracelet you prescribed Jax is really fucked up! It might be making his behavior improve on the outside but inside it’s eating him alive and is definitely making his emotional state a wreck, which will only cause his behavior to actually get worse in the long run, you know. If not it’ll at least increase all his suicidal ideation, which we want to *stop* if I remember correctly? I know you don’t have much of a human perspective on this type of thing, but from *my* human perspective, it’s cruel and unusual! Besides, I imagine the bracelet cost some amount of money? Don’t we wanna cut back on costs or something? Let’s try to get the shock bracelet him off him and get him reevaluated for new meds or a new type of therapy or something instead. If we really, GENUINELY, can’t find any other solution, we can just put it back on.
-Zooble.”
(Or something along those lines. I could word it better than that.) To which Abel would reply,
“Good evening, Employee.
The tone of your email is unprofessional. Many of your emails have been extremely unprofessional and this tone has been pointed out and corrected in the past. Please maintain the corrected tone.
I expect an apology letter for your continued lack of professionalism within 24 hours of the original send time of this email which details your error, a sincere apology, and what you intend to do to rectify it going forward. If it is not sent, you will be written up and have to complete a mandatory training module on professionalism in order to continue your work. The tone of this apology letter should also be professional.
To address your request, however—The shock bracelet is effective and was a one-time purchase, making it cheaper than alternatives. We will maintain its use.
Cordially,
Doctor Abel.
Chief of Medicine.
St. Lanier’s Digital Children’s Hospital.”
To which I would shout curses and kick my desk and Caine would tell me to take a chill pill while handing me tic-tacs, and Kinger would remind me to take deep breaths while wrapping gauze around his head to look like a mummy. Or well, normally they would, anyways. This time if I get that email I’ll just curse and kick my desk and punch the box part of my computer alone, since Caine is off with Jax and Kinger’s…where is Kinger? Usually he just hangs out in the community room all day, staring into space, saying random things or trying to “help” me and just getting in my way. Pomni says he gives good advice, though….Maybe I should talk to him. It’s not like I have any better options.
I stuff my hands in my pockets, turning the corner to change the direction of my pacing a little. I catch a glimpse of a clock and see Pomni’s still got like 20 minutes on the root canal, if things are going according to schedule. That feels both way too long and way too short. God, the rest of the day has passed so fast, why won’t these 20 minutes pass already? O-or maybe not. I might not actually want that, I…I don’t know. I shake my head at nothing in particular.
Maybe there’s a stain or a spill or something somewhere I need to clean up. Or paperwork I’m supposed to do, or pages in my medical textbooks I’m supposed to be brushing up on. I’m not a med student or anything, but god knows Caine thinks of me as one, and it’s at least good to try to learn something about the stuff I see every day. Plus, for some reason my scores on those petty pop quizzes Caine gives me bother me sometimes. I know they don’t actually mean anything and won’t have any real consequences, but I *work* in a hospital! I should be able to ace those things, no problem. But nope, I always forget what POTS stands for…post—oby-something—obstetrics…tachycardia….something. Oh god, I really do need to study. Besides, maybe, if I look through the ethics sections of the textbooks…I’ll figure out what to do about this. Abel’s blacked out half of those sections, but still…
I head back to my room.
——
My room exists in this weird in-between state where it’s both the safest place for me in the world and the absolute worst. On one hand, it’s not my old patient room. I can lock the door and nobody can come in unless I let them, so in that way it’s the place I can really be myself and let my walls down, vulnerabilities and all. There’s not even any security cameras, which is really saying something in this hospital. (And trust me, I’ve looked for hidden ones a thousand times.) Plus, the others are my friends and all, but god sometimes I just need some time by myself.
I sigh and plop down at my desk.
On the other hand, though, being alone isn’t always the best. My thoughts start to creep up on me, a bit. And god knows that’s the last thing I want right now. And, I would never take a dose of the cure with the others around. But my room takes away that barrier. Lately, every time I sit at my desk in my room, I get very, very, uncomfortably aware of the fact that I have abstraction meds in my desk drawer, right there right now. Like it’s just…There, and I can’t forget about it, like it’s throbbing or giant or *something*, when really it’s just still and small and hidden away. Like when you become suddenly really aware of your tongue. Which, if you never have been, then I guess that metaphor or simile or whatever doesn’t make much sense. And if my saying that just made you suddenly very aware of your tongue, then, well…Sorry, I guess. Bigger problems over here. I don’t want to abstract, but as my thoughts spiral and spiral I…Ugh, I’m overreacting. It’ll be fine. I shouldn’t take another dose today, that’d be overkill, and pushing it too close to a dose that’ll cause me to throw up and shit. I think that actually taking *another* dose would *really* be cause for concern. I’m fine right now, even though, god, I wish all this stress would just…I shake my head again. I don’t need another dose. I feel the pull of muscle memory trying to get me to unlock that drawer, as if I do that every time I sit down at my desk, but I manage to stop myself.
I go to glance a look at my alarm clock to see how much longer Pomni’s got on her root canal, only to remember that I threw the alarm clock out the window this morning. Which I’m sure Abel will have a few choice words about… Whatever, I’m sure I’ll get bored of this before she’s even done. I grab one of my general textbooks and open it to the first chapter.
**Hour eleven: 5PM**
“They said to remind them to talk to me.”
Shit, what was that? Was that Pomni’s voice? Yeah, that was her, slurred speech from the dentist and everything. Fuck, I wasn’t even really reading, I just fell asleep at my desk. I know, I know, “how can you fall asleep at a time like this?” Listen, some people, when they get stressed out, can never fall asleep. And some people knock out in the middle of stuff when they’re stressed. Both…both happen to me, at the most inconvenient times possible.
“I’m sure they’ll turn up around dinner time, won’t they? If it was something really important they’d be waiting for ya outside the office right when your appointment ended. Maybe they’re caught up in something or other, better just wait ‘til next time you see ‘em.”
And Gummigoo’s unmistakeable Australian accent.
“Yeah, but…I don’t know, I’m worried. They seem even more stressed than usual.” No shit, Sherlock. I…wouldn’t say that to Pomni’s face though, just a thought. “Could you try radioing them again?”
I brace myself, expecting my walkie-talkie to buzz, but then hear Gummigoo answer, “It’s still not working.”
Pomni sighs.
Obviously this would be the perfect time to come out of my room and pull Pomni aside. But for some reason, I just…Don’t. I just sit there, staring at the doodle-covered pages of my textbook. I should get up. I should go out there. Just take it one step at a time, just…get up. *Get up*. *Get*. *Up*. *GET*. *UP*!

I don’t.
“Well, I gotta get the lads and head back. Dr. Abel wouldn’t be too happy to find out we’re overstaying our welcome,” Gummigoo laughs. “You take care of yourself now.”
“I will. You too.”
I hear Gummigoo & Pomni exchange a few more pleasantries, then the sound of footsteps, walking away. Finally I get up and open the door, but no one is there, and for some reason I don’t chase after where I think they went. I just…stand there, staring.
You know what, I…I should really check on Jax. The memory of that scream still is sending a shiver down my spine. *Forgive me* for being too soft maybe, but I don’t really wanna be kinda responsible for him laying in a pool of his own blood or being dissected alive or something. I’ll tell Pomni at dinner, like Gummigoo said.
It’s eerily quiet as I walk down the hall, just the sound of my shoes against the tile and the rain against the roof. Luckily it hasn’t really been thundering, so Jax hasn’t been *as* distressed as he could be. Otherwise I probably would have had a genuine reason to be stuck with him all day. Or—or unluckily, I guess, I…I don’t even know what I want anymore, man. Finally I reach Jax’s door. His placard still isn’t updated; he looks the same as he did day one.
I knock, softly, to make sure that only Caine could possibly hear. Technically I’m completely allowed to just bust into any patient’s room unannounced, and I do with Jax sometimes if I think he’s up to no good, but I can tell he’s insecure about his privacy, and when he can’t communicate at all, I figure we can least *guess* what his wishes are and try to follow them.
There’s no answer.
For a *long* time.
I knock a little harder, but no answer again. God, Caine better not be giving me the fucking silent treatment right now, because it’s making my heart beat just that little bit faster. They better both be alright.
“Caine?”
No answer. Fine, I’ll bust in unannounced, then. I flip through my keys until I find the right one and open the door. The lights are off and the curtains are pulled so that it’s pitch-black and impossible to see anything, so I feel against the wall for the switch and flip it on.

And breathe a giant sigh of relief. Jax is in a posey bed, which is like a kinda safe restraint that like has a sort of canopy-tent thing going on. It’s a bit hard for me to describe, but Jax and Pomni have both said they think it looks like a cage, while Ragatha & Gangle have said they think it looks like a giant crib. I think it looks more like a boxy tent, honestly, I wouldn’t mind being in one if it had some pillows and fairy lights or something. There’s no bars or anything, just mesh walls. It’s supposed to be more calming than the other restraints and Caine prefers it cuz he worries about the others bruising Jax if he has a seizure and thrashes against them.
It’s not very calming for *Jax*, though. Jax freaks the fuck out every time he sees it. I would say he’s claustrophobic or something but he doesn’t seem to mind small spaces when he’s *hiding* from us. He seems sound asleep though, hugging his bunny plushie tight, with a weighted blanket pulled over him, his twitching here and there being the only real sign of life he shows. Him screaming because Caine tried to put him in the posey bed and injected some sort of sedative would make a lot of sense. I sigh. God why am I even in here? I need to talk to Pomni. But wait, where the fuck is Caine? Jax is just…alone, in here? Oh my fucking god, he *is*. When I catch that fucking bastard…
“Zooble? Did you need something?”
I jolt and turn towards the direction of the voice, near the door. “C-Caine! Why the [%$!#] is Jax alone?”
He sighs and shakes his head. “Not this again, Zooble. I sedated and restrained him and I was only gone for a little while. Nothing could’ve happened.”
I want to punch Caine again, but honestly I can’t even find the energy to be angry about it this time. It just feels like the status quo.
“What were you doing?” I mean, I don’t exactly ask that with a complacent *tone*, though.
“Work stuff.”
I squint my eyes. “*What* work stuff?”
Caine groans. “Since Jax disrupted our meeting so much yesterday, Abel and I had another meeting today.”
Still, can’t even find the energy to be angry. “…Okay.”
“Okay.” Caine and I just look at each other for a second. “Did you need something?” He repeats.
“No…no, I…just wanted to check if Jax was okay.”
“Oh. H-He is, I promise.”
I doubt that.
“Did you…talk about Pomni at all? With Dr. Abel? Everything with her?”
He shakes his head. “Well, I…I was just proving that the abstraction cure works and that Jax is getting better so that Abel would renew the funding for the project. He…He did, renew it, by the way.” Caine gives me a look as he says that like I’ll be happy about it too.
“So…you just…aren’t considering Pomni in this at all?”
“We’ve had this argument already, Zooble.”
“I-I-I *know*, but—You seriously think it’s *this* worth it? Couldn’t you at least have the decency to *tell* her?”
Yeah, honestly, it’s way more on Caine to tell Pomni than *me*. He should be the one to do it.
“Yes, yes it *is*. We’re saving *lives* here, my dear, it’s most definitely worth it. Y-*you* can tell her all you want, but don’t blame me if her reaction isn’t what you wanted.”
“Wh—Uh! It would be entirely your fault!”
“**Zooble**.”
“No! No ‘Zooble’, you don’t get to say that like you’re the rational one here! I’m not some kid you can just boss around you know, I am your *coworker*. And we used to be *friends*!”
“… ‘Used to be?’”
“Yes, yes, ‘used to be’! How the [%$!#] could I stay friends with you after this?! Quit pretending like you’re the one in the right here! You [%$!#]ing are treating a living human being like a lab rat and not even telling her! Do you know how [%$!#]ed up that is?!” Tears well up in my eyes. “At least do her the decency of *telling* her.”
This is basically just a watered down version of the same argument we had yesterday, but I don’t care. If he didn’t listen to me last time, maybe I’ll just have to say it again and again until he hears it. Caine stares at me for a moment, then inhales like he’s going to speak. But then he’s interrupted by Jax’s glitchy, tired voice saying something. I think our names. Caine sighs.
“Out. I don’t want to have this argument in front of Jax. Go get dinner for everyone ready or something, please.”
I glare at Caine as I’m leaving, but I do, slamming the door behind me. I hear Jax start sobbing again, but I finally can’t really find it in me to care about that in particular anymore. Dinner isn’t actually for another hour or so, so I have time. I really do need to talk to Pomni. But…maybe if I let what I said sit with Caine he’ll decide to tell her himself, eventually. It really should be *his* responsibility to tell her, anyway. I pick up enough of his slack.
I’m starting to get worried about Ragatha, though. What kind of psychiatric testing takes this many *hours?* Maybe Dr. Abel’s test isn’t *torture* but it sure as hell can’t be *pleasant*. I feel kinda bad for letting her go to test today, we should’ve waited until she was ready. At least this guilt is something I feel like I can soothe without having to get over a million *other* emotional hurdles. I’ll go check on her.
By the time I reach the psych office, Moon is already shutting the door behind herself, looking through notes on a clipboard.
“Oh, Zooble, good, you’re just in time. Are you feeling a bit better now?”
No. “Wait, what? I never said I was upset or anything, I—“
“My bad.” Moon shrugs and pushes her glasses up the crest of her face. “You seemed stressed earlier.” Her voice is taking on that calming tone again, and I do feel a little less stressed, since Ragatha isn’t fucking *missing* anymore, but to say I feel “better” feels like an overstatement. “We just finished Ragatha’s testing, I wanted to talk to you about the results.”
“Where is Ragatha, anyway? I really would rather we don’t leave her alone after everything today…”
“I agree. She’s with Gangle in my office still, they’re coloring.”
I let go of a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “So what were the results?”
“Well, she performed a bit worse on her IQ test and Dr. Abel’s test than she did when she first entered the hospital. I’m not sure why.”
“Hm. She’s been really stressed lately, seems like she’s got a bit of brain fog or whatever today. I would trust her old results more than the ones today.”
Moon nods. “We did some more comprehensive diagnostic tests as well. I’m not entirely sure quite yet, still, but we’re definitely looking at some more mental conditions than initially diagnosed.”
I hold back the urge to say “no shit” again and just nod. Moon bites the tip of her pen, flipping through the papers on her clipboard.
“I’ll need you, Kinger, and Caine to fill out some surveys about your own observations of her behavior to make a final diagnosis, but my initial impression is that she might have autism and maybe some form of OCD, maybe moral OCD, and GAD—although symptoms of autism itself can develop some moral OCD and GAD-like behaviors, so I’m still not quite sure.”
“Wait, really?” I blink a couple times in surprise. The GAD makes sense—She’s like a nervous little chihuahua of a person. The OCD I don’t know enough about to have a thought on it. But Ragatha being autistic sounds crazy to me, I’d never considered that before. I guess it’s not impossible, though, I’m really not the psychiatrist here, and the more I think about it the more it starts to make some of her behaviors make sense. The biting, pulling at her hair, the meltdowns. My little bio brother was also autistic, but like, the kind of autistic where you never talk no matter what and need to have a caregiver 24/7, well into your adulthood. I never saw much of him cuz my mom and my shitty bio dad couldn’t take care of him so he mostly lived with our grandma, but honestly sometimes Jax & Ragatha kinda remind me of him. He was sorta like a mix of both of them, personality-wise. He really liked cats, and when he was really little, he’d get too excited and pull at their whiskers, and get himself scratched. I…I kinda miss him, actually. I hope he’s alright. Our grandma’s gotta be dead by now and it was always implied that *I* would be the one to take care of him when my mom & stepdad passed. Oh, god, I…
“Zooble? Did you hear me?”
“S-sorrry, I—I got a bit lost in my thoughts there. N-no, what did you say?”
“I just said ‘yes’. She’s very high-functioning if she does have autism, but the meltdowns we’ve been seeing from her lately definitely align with it. A lot of what she was telling me during her interview I feel is best explained by it and she scored higher than the average person on an evaluation for it. I didn’t do as extensive testing for the OCD or GAD, though, I’m just suspecting those. I’d want to see you and the other employees’ surveys first and then test her a bit more next week to make a final diagnosis.”
I nod. I don’t really wanna put Ragatha through all this testing again if she really hates it, but if she needs more medicine or something and can only get it through the diagnoses, then it might be worth it. Besides, maybe she was just thrown off and upset today because she wasn’t expecting the change in routine. Oh, god, that’s definitely it, actually. She’ll probably be more ready for more tests if she knows that they’re coming a week in advance or so. Moon hands me a stack of papers, I think 3 copies of the survey she mentioned. I flip through the pages looking through the questions just a bit, not really absorbing them that much.
“I guess I see what you mean about the autism and gad, actually. But, wait, what’s ‘moral ocd?’”
“Well, it isn’t a diagnosis in and of itself. Moral OCD, or, scrupulosity, is a subtype of—“ Oh god, she’s lecturing. Sometimes when I ask the more trained staff like Caine and Moon questions they answer with long winding lectures, that go on for like 30 minutes *minimum.* I appreciate them trying to help me learn and all I guess, but I can never absorb info that’s just being *said* at me. Or info from a textbook, really, for that matter. Basically any form of traditional learning doesn’t really work for me. I only really process things when I learn them hands-on. So I’m much better at stuff like giving shots and medicine and helping people get dressed and stuff. Couldn’t actually explain how the shots and medicine work for the life of me though. I *want* to, but I just can’t force my brain to latch on to a single word that Moon is saying, so I’m just kinda staring at her while her lecture turns into that “wawawa” sound all the adults make in Charlie Brown.
“Zooble? Zooble.”
“Huh?”
“Are you paying attention? It’s important that you understand this. Since Caine and I will be busy with Jax, *you’re* Ragatha’s primary carer now. You need to understand how to respond.”
“Wait, respond to what?”
“The reassurance-seeking.”
“The what?”
Moon sighs and pinches the part of her face where there would be the bridge of her nose if she had one.
“Ragatha asks you if you’re mad at her a lot, doesn’t she? If she’s in trouble or if you think she’s done anything wrong.”
“Yeah, actually. She’s constantly asking if I’m mad at her.” I suddenly realize that might kinda reflect badly on *my* attitude, cuz I do act kinda grumpy a lot, and tack on, “But I never am. I’m usually just [%$!#]ed at like Caine or Dr. Abel or cuz my coffee is cold.”
“Right. It’s irrational for her to assume that you are. But this is a common behavior we see in people who have wawawawawawawawawawawa. Wawawawawa, wawawawa, wawawawawawa. Wawa…”
I nod like I’m able to pay any attention and look through the papers so that I have some level of plausible deniability if she asks me a question and I didn’t catch it. I know this is important, but figuring it out this way is basically a lost cause. I’ll just read up on it if Moon actually diagnoses her next week. I’m trying my best to still catch onto what I can though, even though I basically feel like it’s all water slipping through my hands.
“Even if she doesn’t actually meet the diagnostic criteria, excessive reassurance-seeking can—,”
I get that feeling you get when you can tell somebody’s entered the room, even if they aren’t making any noise. Or in our case, turned the corner and came closer to us in the hall. Pomni. Fuck. She gives me a small wave and a smile, puts her hands in her pockets and leans against the wall. I guess to wait ‘til Moon’s done talking to me so that she can ask me what I wanted to say earlier. Oh god. My breath stops of its own accord and I stiffen up just a little bit. My heart beat spikes and I’m stuck staring at Pomni for longer than socially acceptable. She looks confused, then, so I’m able to tear myself away and force my limbs to loosen up again. I try to pay more attention to Dr. Moon, but the fact that Pomni is there makes it literally impossible. It feels a lot like how sitting at my desk knowing the abstraction cure was in my drawer felt. She’s a good 6 feet away from us, but it feels like we’re *touching*.
“So it’s important that you *don’t* tell her yes or no,” Moon’s voice suddenly cuts in to my brain again.
“Uhh…Yes or no to what?”
“To her asking if you’re mad at her, if she’s in trouble, things like that. The reassurance-seeking.”
“Wait, seriously? I’m not supposed to tell her I’m not mad at her? What the hell else am I supposed to do? Make her feel like [%$!#]?”
“Well, yes, It’ll be uncomfortable for her, but that temporary discomfort is necessary for ensuring her long-term recovery. You can start small by delaying the reassurance and telling her you’ll give her an answer in five minutes or so. And eventually you won’t answer at all. You won’t be saying *yes*, you are mad, or she is in trouble, we’re just trying to teach her brain to be comfortable in uncertainty and confident in its own feelings, rather than needing verbal reassurance to soothe every little doubt.”
Huh. That’s…starting to kind of make sense, actually. But I’m kind of lost in other thoughts, at the moment. I look down at the floor.
“I know, it’s difficult, but you’ll get the hang of it. I’ll talk to Ragatha about it as well, I’m sure she’ll understand.” Moon reaches out and pats my shoulder, giving me what I think is supposed to be a reassuring smile. It would actually be kind of reassuring if it wasn’t for the fact that she seems to be completely missing the mark about what I’m actually worried about, and I am most definitely not gonna tell her.
“…Right.”
“Good. Could you get started on making dinner? Ragatha didn’t get lunch so she’s pretty hungry. I’ll keep an eye on her for you until you’re done.”
“Uh, yeah, yeah. Of course.”
“Oh! Uh! Would you want some help with that?” Pomni says. Oh god, what do I say?? It’d be the perfect opportunity to talk to her and all, but, I don’t know if I…want…Anyways, Dr. Moon interrupts before I can say anything, sucking air in through her teeth.
“You aren’t allowed in the kitchen, dear.”
“W-well, I—I *know*, but maybe I could like, help with dishes, or something? It doesn’t have to be cooking, I know I’m not great at that. I just figured, y’know, I could lend a helping hand.”
“You did enough helping us find Ragatha, Pomni. We appreciated that. But you should really be resting now.”
“I don’t feel tired or anything…”
Moon raises one eyebrow. “Why is it that you want to help make dinner so badly?”
I look towards Pomni, expecting her to make up some bullshit in an attempt to keep our talk a secret, that just lands us both in more, different hot water than we would if anybody finds out I’m gonna tell her about the lab rat thing. But she doesn’t *know* that’s what I wanna talk about, of course, so she just says:
“Zooble said they wanted to talk to me? I figured we could talk while they get all our dinners ready.”
Oh god, please don’t ask what I wanted to tell her…don’t make me explain to *Dr. Moon* what I’m gonna say. We all know she’ll just take *Caine’s* side and we’ll end up and a whole other mess.
“Oh, I see.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m sure it can wait. How about you come in and color with the other girls?” Moon opens the door to her office. Pomni looks towards me. I think she wants to see some movement or facial expression to tell her what to do, but I’m stuck frozen where I am, just looking back at her in a lot more horror than she probably needs to see on another person’s face right now.
“Um…sure. As long as we get a chance to talk after dinner,” Pomni says. Moon nods.
“I’m sure you will.”
Pomni gives me a wave and a smile as she goes into Moon’s office, and Moon follows closely behind her, shutting the door gently behind herself. Finally, there’s a loud crack of thunder and lighting. I hear Jax cry. But I have to make dinner.
Hour twelve: 6PM
I still left a shitload of dishes in the sink when I made lunch. God, sometimes I start to hate my past self a bit. I don’t usually *hate myself.* Most of the time all my personal insecurities are wrapped up in the way my body feels like some kinda sweater that itches and doesn’t fit, and I can at least be assured that I *am* a good person. But…
I really shouldn’t be so hard on my past self, though, I guess. They were…using what effort they had, at the time. But now I barely have the effort to do the rest myself. I groan again but wash what’s left. I guess I could just wash the few things I need to make what I’m gonna, but I…I don’t wanna put it off any longer and have it get even grosser. Eventually I get it all done and start on dinner, though I probably spend a good like, 15 minutes even deciding what to make. Ragatha’s been eating better and she needs something pretty hearty since she skipped lunch, so I get started making her some ravioli which I figure Pomni can have to. Ugh. Pomni. I don’t know how I’m gonna…whatever, gotta focus right now. I gotta at least try to make some things that are a bit more healthy and not just microwaved food, since, y’know, everyone here is like, sick. Except Pomni—Damn it, I can’t do anything in peace today, can I?! A-anyway, I get started chopping up some greens to add to the pasta so that it’s got some more nutrients. The pot of water boils beside me, the hot stove kind of warming me up even in the cold a/c of the hospital, as rain pours down on the roof, practically making it look like night outside. Normally in these conditions I would kinda be enjoying myself, feeling like some worker at a medieval tavern or something, but now I’m just stuck as fucking *Zooble*, and I happen to be cooking and it happens to be raining as my stress is eating me the fuck alive. Caine’ll make Jax’s dinner (at least he fucking *better*), and I don’t think Gangle ever got her ramen for lunch so she wouldn’t mind having it for dinner. I also manage to find some premade cookies in the cabinets and grab one of those for everyone. Dr. Abel absolutely loathes it when we give everybody desserts, but he never actually gets his ass up and does anything about it, so who cares.
I put everything on a different cart, since I…left the other cart in the middle of the hall somewhere, apparently. I make a mental note to go back and get it but I’m pretty sure my mind’ll let go of that mental note pretty quickly, and the cart will find its way back eventually. This one’s wheels are worse, but whatever. It would take more effort to go back and get the better cart. I put my hands on the cart and…freeze. I just fucking freeze. Because of course I do. Because I’m not fucking good enough to even fucking force myself to move to give people fucking food, because I apparently can’t handle telling someone something horrible is happening to them even when it’s not even my fucking fault, because I’m—I’m just!
I take a giant breath, more of a gasp. Screw that. “I don’t need to tell Pomni today. It’s more important that I get this food to everybody at all. I just need to get it to them and then I’ll see if I feel up for talking to her,” I think to myself. I know it’s a lie, I fully intend on forcing myself to talk to her no matter what, but it’s what I need to hear to gain any kinda momentum whatsoever. It helps me get unfrozen, at least, and I push the cart down the hall and back to Dr. Moon’s office.
Her office has this fancy door that looks a bit different from the others, a darker wood with a frosted window that says “psychiatrist” on it in a nice professional-looking font. I stare at it for a minute. It’s a little intimidating. Eventually I shake my head and manage to get over myself, though, and open the door. The floors shift from tiled to carpeted and the walls are now covered in motivational and informational posters, although they’re all in that elegant sort of style that Dr. Moon would choose rather than the “hang in there” kitten posters that Caine sticks up everywhere.
“Hi Zooble!” Gangle’s sitting at a small wooden table next to Ragatha, with one of her ribbons placed on her shoulder, trying to comfort her I think. Ragatha just waves, obviously still trying her very best to be nice, but still avoiding eye contact. She’s got a coloring page in front of her—I can tell Gangle made it, it’s in her art style—and is much more invested in filling it in with the cheap crayola crayons. I’m glad to see her actually doing something and enjoying it, though. Pomni meanwhile is sitting across from Ragatha, messing with a rubix cube. My breath stops for a brief moment, again, until Pomni turns and smiles at me.
“I-I got dinner ready for everybody,” I manage to force myself to say, having to practically push the words out of my non-existent mouth. I pick up Pomni’s plate first and hand it to her.
“Thanks, Zooble,” She says, like nothing is wrong. She puts the rubix cube down and starts eating. I stay where I’m standing, looking at her, for a little longer than what could be seen as normal, just…trying to think of what I’ll say.
“H-h-hey, Pomni?” I find myself speaking before I even know what I’m gonna say again. Oh god no, please, fuck, I—
“Hm?”
“I-I-I….n-nothing. Nevermind, forget it.”
“Uh….Okay.”
GOD, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?! I—God! Why did I start talking?! I didn’t want to! I wasn’t going to! I was gonna wait until she finished eating and when we were in *private.* I didn’t even know what I was gonna say, why on God’s green *fucking* earth would I do that?! I turn back around to the cart so that I can let myself blink away the tears of frustration in my eyes without anybody noticing, then grab Ragatha’s plate and put it down next to her. She keeps coloring, not looking up at me or acknowledging it in any way.
“Uhhh…Ragatha? Time to eat.”
Ragatha doesn’t answer me until she completely finishes filling in the mane on the horse she’s coloring.
“I-I’ll eat after I’m done with this,” She mutters. Most of the page is still blank. I look up at Gangle, and we both give each other the same concerned look.
“Are you sure? Your food might get cold.” I push the food a bit more towards her, in hopes that seeing it better will make her wanna eat it, but her vision seems *locked* on the coloring sheet in front of her.
“That’s okay.” She starts coloring a bit faster, which I guess is kind of helpful, but not really.
Gangle and I look at each other again. I shrug, but Gangle still looks concerned. Luckily she doesn’t do or say anything else, though.
But unluckily, Dr. Moon walks back in the room right then.
“Oh, hello again, Zooble. Good to see everyone’s fed.” She scans the room, mostly smiling, until her eyes land on Ragatha’s plate.
“Y-yeah,” I butt in, trying to distract a bit but failing miserably, as I apparently do at most things now.
“Ragatha, darling, why aren’t you eating?”
Ragatha purses her lips and doesn’t respond, continuing to color.
“She said she would eat after she finishes coloring, and that she’s okay with it getting cold,” Gangle answers for her. “I know when I get wrapped up in a drawing or a project like that it feels almost *impossible* and really jarring to just stop in the middle of it.”
Moon gives another one of those disapproving hums that I’m getting sick of.
“Well…I just got off the phone with Dr. Abel…”

It feels like another literal ice block just encased the whole room. All three of us freeze, even our breaths stopping. Even Ragatha pauses coloring for a moment, still holding her crayon and looking down at the paper, but not moving her hand anymore.
“And I was talking to him about Ragatha’s new diagnosis…and he was giving a few treatment recommendations. I can’t specify due to privacy laws, however, so, you’re all just going to have to trust me on this, alright? Even if she gets upset.”
“Wait, why would she—,” Gangle stands, but isn’t able to finish her sentence before Dr. Moon wordlessly takes the crayon and the paper out of Ragatha’s hands. Ragatha lets out a weird upset whine/scream that I’m very sure she didn’t mean to, then immediately covers her mouth, blushing red as her hair and muttering “sorry”, tears already forming in her eyes.
“It’s not time to color, it’s time to eat.” Moon pushes the plate to the spot where the paper was, where Ragatha’s eyes are still stuck. “You’ll get the crayons and paper back when you finish your plate, okay?”
Ragatha just stares at it, hands still stuck over her mouth. We’re all kind of stuck staring, actually. Except for Dr. Moon, who folds up the paper and sticks it and the crayons in her lab coat pockets, then turns to walk back to her private office.
“Hey, wait, what the [%$!#]?! How the [%$!#] is that fair?! Ragatha is an adult, she has the right to let her food get cold if she wants to!” Pomni stands up out of her chair, shouting and gesturing at Ragatha, who’s still frozen. It unfreezes me to see Pomni try to stand up for her, too. I mean, god, I thought *I* was brave and always stood up for people who couldn’t stand up for themselves, but Pomni’s crazy good at it. A small part of me is jealous but an even bigger part of me is kind of inspired by her. She’s such a good friend. God, she doesn’t deserve any of this.
“Yeah, is it seriously the end of the world for her to let her finish coloring? She might not’ve been perfect today but she’s usually an angel, you don’t have to keep repeatedly *punishing* her for something that’s already happened and holding things over her head to get her to ‘behave’ like this! It’s ridiculous!” I add, shouting, too.
Moon sighs, more of a groan, really. “I know, I know, this isn’t my *favorite* way to treat patients either, but it’s what Dr. Abel said to do, alright? He’s got the final say in *all* of these matters. Ragatha will show improvement, eventually, regardless.”
“Seriously? You don’t even agree with the [%$!#]ed up [%$!#] he does, but you still bend to his will?! Why? There’s **no** security cameras in here. Even if there were, you seriously think Abel would see Ragatha taking a while to eat her food and take that as her not getting treatment?!” Pomni responds, still shouting. “And I highly doubt that she *will*.”
Moon obviously doesn’t take that very well. Her face looks like she’s *seething*, but she still manages to keep her calm tone. “I’m not going to argue with you, my dear.” She disappears back into her private office, shutting and locking the door behind her. She still has the crayons and the coloring sheet.

It’s quiet again, but not frozen-quiet. Really we’re all huffing and steaming after that exchange, Gangle and Pomni and I all still standing and honestly ready to jump anyone who comes back in. Finally Pomni lets out a big huff, plops back down in her chair, and keeps eating. Gangle sits down, then, too, and I lean against the wall, crossing my arms. Ragatha takes her hands off her mouth, slowly.
“th—thank you for sticking up for me,” she says, although she doesn’t really speak clearly and it’s a bit hard to make out each word.
Pomni gives her a big smile. “Yeah, of course.”
“y-you didn’t have to do that. but it—you guys—it—it was a little bit loud…sorry, sorry, it—th-thank you—s-sorry,” Ragatha mutters even more, to the point I’m a little bit surprised I even managed to pick up what she was saying at all. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay, Ragatha,” Gangle says. She places one of her ribbons on her shoulder again and puts the fork in her hand, where the crayon was. “We’re having a bit of a weird day today, huh?”
Ragatha rubs her eye with her free hand and nods, sniffling a bit. “Yeah…”
“I get it. Some days are just a lot harder than others. It’ll be okay, though. We’ve made it through days like this before, haven’t we?”
Ragatha kind of smiles, her eyes still all sparkly from crying. She nods again. “Th-thank you, Gangle. You…you don’t have to comfort me, y-y’know. I-I mean, *thank you*, but I…I know I…I know I was acting really—really weird all day, and I—I know it wasn’t really…really *acceptable* and—and you don’t have to pretend like it *is*. I-I’m really sorry about it, really. I just…,” She shakes her head. “I mean, I just…I know you really struggle with—with your mental health too, and I don’t wanna…I don’t wanna make you feel like you have to take care of *mine*, on top of that…I just…I-I want you to feel okay, too…”
“I do! Don’t worry about me. You…*try* to comfort me when I need it, I don’t see why I can’t do the same for you.”
“Yeah, Ragatha,” Pomni adds. “We’re friends, you don’t always have to be the one to take care of *us*. We want *you* to feel okay, too.”
Ragatha looks up at Pomni, the first time she’s looked up this whole time. Tears start to spill down her face. “Th-thank you Pomni…”
“Ah! Hey, hey, I didn’t mean to make you cry!”
“N-no, it’s a good cry,” Ragatha says, half crying-half giggling, wiping her eye with the back of her hand. Pomni just smiles back.
“How about you try to eat a little bit and I’ll make you a new coloring page to fill in after?“ Gangle says. “You don’t have to eat it all. Just what you can.”
“I-I’d like that. Thank you.”
“Of course.”
Ragatha, Pomni, and Gangle all start eating again, although Ragatha only eats in slow, little nibbles, and she gives Pomni her cookie before Pomni even asks. The three of them keep talking, but I’m not really able to follow anymore. I feel like I’ve been suddenly shoved back in my body after the end of that first conversation, like I was just a camera filming them at first, but now I’m back to being *me*, and I have to deal with all the baggage that comes with that. I’m jealous of the camera, honestly.
I’m not sure what to do with myself, but I feel like I still need to stay in the room. Wait to talk to Pomni, I guess. I figure if I stay here the whole time then maybe it’ll be harder for me to just run away from her when it’s finally time to talk. My eyes keep drifting over to her, though, and I don’t want her to catch me staring, so I go over to the cabinet things and start messing with the toys in the basket of fidgets that sits on top of them. It helps calm me a bit, but not really.
I just keep thinking, god, these three are like angels to me. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know that they’re adults and that they can and have done things wrong before, but they’re still really fucking *sweethearts.* They don’t deserve any of what’s happening to them here, not in the *slightest.* Pomni especially—I mean, for fuck’s sake, they teach you that experimenting on people without their knowledge or consent is wrong in fucking on-level high school *statistics class*. Even if it was *JAX* being experimented on or something it’d still be fucked up.
I…I *know* logistically, that it isn’t my fault. I didn’t know that those experiments were what was happening to Pomni. But still! I-I helped hold her down for blood draws and MRI’s, helped get her into the surgical theater, helped convince her to take her meds, everything, unquestioningly. I mean, I questioned it a little, I called and emailed Abel, I talked to Caine, I never believed she was actually sick. But they just kept telling me she *was*, and eventually, I…I just gave up. A lot sooner than I should have. I was just…Just so goddamn *sick* of everything in this hell-hospital, I mean, I had to handle that while at the same time making sure that Gangle was safe from Jax and that Jax faced consequences without those consequences being literal *abuse*, and that Jax and Pomni weren’t going into the fuck-ass west wing and triggering Jax’s asthma attacks, and that Ragatha had someone to help her get around when she so much as wanted up out of her chair. I…The truth is that that involved a lot more sitting around at my desk than I’m making it sound like. I—If I had just gotten up and *done* something! Anything! Emailed Abel, talked to the other staff, talked with Caine *one more time*, maybe I could’ve stopped this before Jax’s *life* **depended** on it.
“Uh…Z-Zooble? Are you okay?”
“Huh?”
“Y-you’re breathing kinda fast…,” Ragatha, says, nervously rubbing one of her hands over the other.
“O-oh—I—,” I am in fact breathing very very fast, but I can’t get myself to stop. “I’m fine, I just…Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
The three of them all just kinda stare at me. Eventually Gangle gets up and walks over to me, taking my hand in hers. She leads me out to the hall, right outside the door.
“I-I-I-I’m sorry, Gangle, I—“
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Try to take a deep breath.”
“I-I-I *can’t*, I—“
“Zooble, Zooble, it’s *okay*. L-listen, if you need me to, *I* can tell Pomni…”
“No! N-no, it has to be me. It…I…yeah.” I turn as if I’m going to go back in the room, but luckily Gangle reaches out and stops me, holding my shoulder. “J-Just…Just give me a day.” I rip away from her and start walking off before she can say anything else.
Hour thirteen: 7PM
I end up walking up and down the halls, with no real direction, breathing like a panting *dog*. I don’t know what I’m doing, or where to go or anything, I’m just, walking, like I *have* to be somewhere, like I’m headed to do a chore or something. But there’s nowhere to go. I-I can’t go back to my room, as bad as I want to. I know what’ll happen then—I’ll be alone with that goddamn medicine and take it *again* which will just make all of this even *worse* than it already is. But god, all I could want right now is to lock myself away from everybody else and get some goddamned relief, even if I have to force that relief through some meds. But I can’t, I—I can’t *do that*, I—just! *AUGH*! I grab my head, tight, enough to make it hurt more than it already does, and suddenly stop in my tracks, standing right in the middle of the hall, smack dab beneath the row of fluorescent lights that practically blind me when I throw my head back. I stay looking up at them.
Finally I manage to bring my breathing at least to a speed that doesn’t feel like gasping every single breath. Still fast, but not so fast that I feel like I’m gonna barf anymore. I sigh and bring my head back down. I’m in the hall with all the patient rooms; Ragatha’s, Jax’s, Pomni’s, Gangle’s. My old one.
There are no windows in this hall, but you can still tell it’s raining cuz of how loud the raindrops are. And the fact it’s colder in here, even more than the a/c normally makes it. There’s another loud crack of thunder. I can hear Jax’s sobbing from his room pretty loudly, now, but I just glance at his door. I feel almost too heavy to even do *that*. God, I need to sit down. Can’t here, though. Can’t go back to my room. Can’t go to the community room and definitely not back to Dr. Moon’s office. I look around the hall one more time. There’s my old room. It may be my own personal hell, but it’s still set up for *me*. Nothing was really changed yet, besides taking my stuff out. It still feels like…home, in a weird, really fucked-up way.
I unlock the door and make extra sure I lock it behind me, keeping the lights off and my eyes down on the ground so I can at least try to avoid those fuckass giant mirrors, then come and collapse on the bed, which still has a blanket with crazy neon colors and abstract shapes instead of the standard blue hospital blanket. I grab my old pillow and bury my face in it, finally letting myself just fucking *cry*, sobbing openly, a bit too. Not half as loud as Jax, so no one can hear me, but still, crying like a fucking baby, making like half the pillow wet within like a minute. I guess it’s kind of a blessing that I don’t have a nose or a mouth anymore, cuz that would just make the pillow more wet in a grosser way, but a part of me is genuinely frustrated that I can’t be…be *gross* and *human* like that. I *want* to cry so hard that I drool and get all snotty and end up with a sore throat and a hurt stomach—It feels like the only thing that could release these feelings, to at least get me ready *to* talk to Pomni and not just completely break down in front of her when I try…but I can’t. I can barely even get actual tears out of these goddamn plastic eyeballs. I shove my face harder into the pillow and sob a bit more.
God, I—I hate myself.
I’m a horrible person. I fucked up bad, and all I have to do is *tell Pomni*, and I can’t even get over myself and do that?! I sob harder, grabbing onto my antenna parts tight and ripping them off my head, my face still planted in the pillow. My whole body shakes with each sob, just like Jax this morning. It’s kind of a relief, but it still feels like this horrible feeling will never fucking end. I keep sobbing, *hard*, for a while, until eventually it slows down and I’m able to pick myself up, still on the bed but sitting, sniffling and whimpering like a little kid. I grab one of my eye parts, the stupid, big, spiral one, and start to twist it out. It kinda hurts to pull out parts I’ve kept in for a long time, but god, I mean, I’m starting to understand why Ragatha hurts herself so much. It’s…it feels like…like…I mean I can’t really think of anything other than “a relief”, and I’m desperate for a relief right now, no matter how bad the way I have to get it is. I chuck the eye against the wall, *hard*, which, doesn’t hurt that bad physically, but it definitely brings me back to all my attempts to get Dr. Abel to fucking *listen* to me when I was a patient, the punching the walls and the desperate sifting through parts to find something that even remotely looked like someone I could call “me”. And emotionally that hurts a *lot*, as if I don’t already have a shitload going on emotionally speaking. I stare at it with the one eye left, it sitting on the tile floor, still, next to a bunch of dust bunnies.
“Uh…Zooble?”
“AH!”
“AH!”
“K-Kinger?! What the hell are you doing in *my* room?!” I stand up from the bed, trying to make myself look bigger cuz that’s my immediate instinct, but I actually look kind of pathetic stumbling over the bed bars.
“W-wait, this *is* your *old* room, isn’t it? I-I haven’t actually been invading your privacy, have I?” Kinger is sitting in the pink armchair that sits across from the bed. I don’t know how I didn’t notice him, but he must’ve already been in here for a while. “I-I’m sorry if I have, I—I get a bit confused.”
“Y…yeah. Yeah, you do. But n-no, no this isn’t my room anymore. I meant my old room. I got hired, remember?”
“Oh! Congratulations!”
I scoff. “Yeah, right. As if getting *this job* is something to *congratulate* somebody on…” I sigh and sit back down on the bed, burying my face in my hands. “What *are* you doing in here, though?”
“Oh, I come in here when I need a break, sometimes. The darkness helps me think—and it’s easy to remember which door to go to, since it still has your face on it.”
“Oh.”
“Why did you come in here, if you don’t mind me asking? If it’s your old room.” Kinger tilts his head a bit. “…Did you need a break too?”
I nod, still rubbing my face with my hands.
“Bad day?”
I nod a bit harder. Kinger stands from the chair, and goes and grabs my eye, dusting it off. He hands it back to me, trying to give me what I think is a smile. It’s a bit hard for both of us what with our total lack of mouths. “Do you…wanna talk about it?”
I stare at the eye in my hand, squeezing it a little bit. Kinger sits down next to me on the bed. Not too close, though, which I appreciate. “I…I mean…*yeah*, honestly, but…I don’t even know where I’d begin.”
There’s a long pause before either of us speak again, but it’s not too uncomfortable. It feels more like Kinger’s just thinking. Eventually he says, “Well, why don’t we start with this morning? What happened then?”
I pause for a long time before answering, too. “I…I had a nightmare, I-I guess…”
“Oh?”
I just nod and pop the eye back into its place, not really wanting to explain more.
“That does sound like a pretty rough start to the day. Would you wanna talk about what happened in your nightmare?”
I shake my head no. “I…it was pretty normal. I mean…nothing that really needs to be like, *dissected*, I…I just…yeah.”
“What about the rest of your morning, then? Did you get anything for breakfast?”
“…I had a coffee.” I don’t really *want* to talk about the main thing I remember from this morning. Injecting Jax’s meds into my *own* arm. Then there was that whole situation with Jax, I guess, which, I’m not really afraid of telling Kinger about *that* as much, so… “Then there was this whole situation with *Jax*.”
“Oh, what happened then?”
“Jax had a total meltdown in one of the exam rooms and knocked over a bucket of sharps.”
“Oh! Gosh, that’s dangerous.”
“Yeah! And I had to come clean it up, but turns out Caine got this [%$!#]ing—this weird [%$!#] *shock bracelet* for him.”
“Oh, god. That’s…Hm.”
“I know, right?! I just—“ I stand and inhale for a *long while* throwing my head back in frustration again. “I am just SO [%$!#]ing sick of *Caine*. He—I—! He and I are supposed to be in this *together.* *We’re* supposed to be the good guys on the staff—I-I mean and you I guess-“
“Thank you.”
“We’re supposed to be the ones fighting against the corruption! Against Abel! Together! Yeah, Caine [%$!#]s up a lot and he can be condescending and doesn’t always know what’s right or wrong ‘cuz he’s an AI, and he listens to [%$!#]ing *Abel*, but—but usually he listens to *me.* And—and it’s *never* been this bad before.” I sigh and plop down into the bright pink arm chair, curling myself into a little ball there. “I just…it’s just *not fair*.” I put my head down on my arms.
“That’s *definitely* not fair. I’m sorry you saw that, Zooble. I’ve been hearing Jax cry and scream a bit, I was…hoping it wasn’t anything like that…I’ll be talking with him tomorrow for therapy, hopefully I can remember to try and talk to him about it then. Comfort him a bit.”
“N-no, It’s not…I mean it *is* that, but it’s also…I…,” I just sigh. “*Everything* Caine’s been doing lately. The—the Escape the Hospital game, which he apologized for, but like, *still*—the shock bracelet—the—the…everything!”
Kinger leans forward a bit. “Are you…saying there’s something else going on that Caine is doing?”
“Well, I—“ I don’t want to say no. I’ve lied enough today. And *God* I need to talk about this with *somebody*. I mean I’ve talked about it with Gangle, and that really really helped, but it’s shaping up to be a lot harder than both of us thought it would be then. “I…y-*yeah*, but…But I…I don’t know if I should talk about it…I…I don’t wanna like…” I would feel even more shitty if I somehow managed to tell two other people before I told Pomni. But, god, somehow fucking *Kinger* has become the only staff member I trust. And I need some guidance, and I…I don’t know who else to turn to.
“Zooble. If one of *our* patients is being hurt by Caine, then I *need* to know. Please, I know it’s hard to explain terrible things you might’ve witnessed, but, it’s very important that the rest of us *human* staff know, so that we can help as much as possible. We can take breaks while we’re talking if you need, but if Pomni or Gangle or Jax or Ragatha are being *hurt*, I need to know. We might not be able to do anything, but if we *can*—,”
“Caine figured out the cure for abstraction through running experiments on Pomni without her knowledge or consent and now the medication literally made to cure Jax’s abstraction literally *comes* from Pomni’s blood and I—and it—and-and I’ve been trying to tell her *all* *[%$!#]ing* day but I—but I just! I just *can’t* and-and I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” I blurt out, and break down sobbing again.
“Oh! Oh my goodness I…Oh—oh, Zooble, I…I’m very glad you told me that. That’s…God.“
“I-I just—I just feel like such a horrible person for—for not catching it sooner, for not fighting it harder! Now Jax is *reliant* on the stuff to live and—and there’s nothing we can do to reverse it. An-and I can’t so much as force myself to *tell* Pomni what’s happening! G-gangle offered to tell her for me and-and I guess I could take her up on that, but—But *I’m* the one who actually helped with the tests, who found out *first*! It-it should really be *me* or *Caine*, and god knows Caine’s not gonna tell her because he’s a [%$!#]ing [%$!#]. An-And it’s just!” I shoot up out of my seat again, which causes Kinger to jolt in surprise a bit. “It’s just not [%$!#]ing *fair*!” I shout, trying to sound angry, but my voice breaks and I just sound like a crying, whimpering little kid. “It’s…it’s not fair,” I whine, wiping tears from my eyes and crossing my arms over myself. “It’s not fair…”
“…It’s not. It really isn’t.” Kinger shakes his head. “I—It’s a bit hard to know what to say in situations like this, isn’t it? I…” He just sighs. I nod. We both sit in silence for a *long* while. “And Pomni doesn’t know?”
“Y-yeah. I…I know I should tell her but I—I—Everytime I get the chance to I chicken out and run away to take care of something else like a *coward*. I-I don’t know why I just—,” I sob. “There’s just…s-something *wrong* with me I guess.”
“…I don’t think there’s anything *wrong* with you, Zooble. You’re just going through a *lot* right now, processing all of this. I don’t think that the meds coming *from Pomni* is your fault at all. You didn’t know, so there was nothing you could’ve done.
But I…I understand feeling guilty about it, too.
Everyone’s done something they’re not proud of, even if they did it unintentionally. I know I’m no exception.”
“…W-wait, really?” I never really thought about *Kinger* doing stuff he could feel guilty about before. Or at least that he *remembers* well enough to feel guilty about. But he nods, sadly, like he’s thinking about whatever it was.
“I’ve done things that got my friends hurt…innocent *strangers* hurt, even. When all I wanted to do was help people. I won’t go into specifics, we can do that another time, but I…I understand how you feel. And trust me, beating yourself up, hurting yourself over it…isn’t going to undo anything that you did. All you can do now is…move ahead and make a different choice next time.”
I sigh heavily and plop back down on the chair. “You say that like it’s easy…”
Kinger chuckles, a bit. “I don’t mean to. It’s hard. Very, very hard. But it gets easier with time.”
“It—it’s not that *simple,* though! I-I—y-yeah, I didn’t *know* what I was doing when I helped Caine with the blood draws and the experiments, but I *did* when I avoided Pomni all day. And when I—I…” Part of me is *screaming* not to tell him *anything*, but, the other part of me is saying that I *have* to. I need to talk to someone so bad, I… “L-listen, Caine gave me this vial of the cure stuff and I…and-and it gives me this nice floaty effect that…that just kinda relieves my stress for a while. I-I didn’t take it out of curiosity, or anything, I first got the cure when I actually *needed* it, but now, I…now I’ve used it like at least once just to calm myself down…,” I mutter as much as possible. I’m sure that if my face wasn’t already neon pink I’d be blushing so hard I’d glow. I’m embarrassed as fuck to say anything, and honestly like half the reason I’m doing it is cuz I’m too tired for impulse control, but also, I’ve been addicted to alcohol and nicotine and shit before and…and I figure maybe, if I tell someone before it gets bad, it won’t get as bad this time. I brace myself for whatever Kinger’ll say, not exactly expecting anything good, ‘cuz he seems almost too “normal” to get it. But he just says,
“Oh, Zooble.”
Like he’s really, *genuinely*, upset and concerned.
“Wh-what is that supposed to mean?” I ask. I know it’s mostly like, a good, sympathy kinda thing, but I still can’t help but put on the defensive.
“Zooble, I…You *have* to be more forgiving of yourself. Y-yes, *tell Pomni*, as soon as you’re able to make yourself, and don’t give yourself another *drop* of that cure. But you’re not a horrible person for making those mistakes in the first place. You’re genuinely just going through *hell* right now, and you’re slipping up because of it. That’s normal. You just need to forgive yourself, and do the right thing *now*. *Please*.”
“You keep saying that like it’s *easy*!” I shout, louder than I mean to. “H-how am I supposed to forgive myself for this? S-seriously, sure, *I’m* having a hard time, but you know who else is having a hard time? Pomni! Being seen as *crazy* when in reality she’s just being treated like an *object* to *use.* R-Ragatha and Gangle and Jax have all been *genuinely suicidal*, but sure, *I’m* the one having a ~hard time~ cuz I can’t suck it up and own up to when I’ve done something *wrong*!”
Kinger looks at me, confused, for a second. I don’t know what he’s so confused about, but he does. “Zooble, there will always be people who have things ‘worse’ than you. It’s good that you don’t feel the same way as them, but, that doesn’t mean that what you’re going through *isn’t* a lot. You have to live with yourself every day of your life—so *your* problems can’t be shoved to the side, at least not for *you*. No matter how small they might seem in comparison.”
“Yeah, yeah, what book did that one come from…,” I grumble, looking away and squeezing myself tight in a sort of makeshift hug. There’s a long, *long*, uncomfortable pause. Dread starts to set in as I realize I basically just insulted the very person trying to help me. But I have no idea what to say to break the silence, besides immediately blurting out a bunch of unprompted “sorry”’s and sounding like Ragatha. Luckily Kinger breaks it first, though.

“Well…*I* forgive you.”

I stew in that for a long time, before finally my dam breaks, and I just become a whining and sobbing mess again.
“Oh! Oh, Zooble, I…,” Kinger offers his hands out in a hug, but pulls them away at first, I think worried that I wouldn’t like that much. But god, I couldn’t want anything more right now. I immediately jump out of my chair and hug him back, sobbing *hard* into his shoulder, or, well, where his shoulder would be. He squeezes me back, grounding me back into reality a bit. I just keep crying in his arms (hands?) for a long time.
“S-sorry—I-I’m sorry I—,” I start hiccuping a bit too, which I honestly find especially embarrassing, but god I just…I just can’t be fucked to care about that right now. I keep crying, sobbing, sniffling, whining, hiccuping, *everything*. I need to let my walls down and be *embarrassing*, for once. Because…because Kinger’s *right.* This is so goddamn *much*. Definitely not the worst thing any human being has ever been through, but it is the worst thing I’ve been through in *my* life. And—and I *know* I’ll get through it in the end, but, man, I just need to cry my eyes out and bawl and be hugged first.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay, you’re okay,” Kinger says, and honestly I don’t even mind that that could be seen as a little patronizing. That’s what I *need* right now, honestly. He pats my back and squeezes me every so often, something I haven’t felt in *years*. It feels…nice. I start to cry a bit harder every time he does it, but mostly *because* it feels so nice, and safe, and warm, and god I just…I don’t know if I deserve that but…but I’ve been wanting it for a *long* time.
Eventually, my tears finally let up, and Kinger finally lets go. “I think your shift just ended,” He says, with surprising gentleness in his voice. “Go clock out. Make sure you eat something for dinner, try to relax and take care of yourself a bit. Shower and go to bed at a reasonable time, all of that. If you want, you can bring the cure to me and I’ll hold onto it for you so it doesn’t bother you all night.”
“I…I’d like that, actually. B-but wait, what about—,”
“I’ll try my best to put everyone to bed. I can get Dr. Moon to help me if I need it, don’t worry. And Pomni…Pomni’s gonna be okay. You can talk to her if you see her tonight, but don’t beat yourself up too much if you don’t. I’d rather you tell her sooner rather than later, but you need to take a break. Otherwise you’ll try to talk to her and it’ll all just come out as gibberish,” He chuckles. “If you can’t get yourself to tell her by this time tomorrow, I’ll tell her myself—that’s not a threat or anything, I just believe Pomni needs to know and I understand why this is hard for you to say yourself. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
I sniff and nod, wiping my eyes with my arm. “Th-thanks, Kinger.”
“Always.”
There’s sudden, loud crack of thunder that causes both of us to jump a little. Jax screams again, even louder this time. I groan and start to go, almost habitually, but Kinger puts his hand on my shoulder and stops me. “Jax is starting to warm up to me a bit. Let me try to handle it, please.”
“Are-are you sure? You’re…kinda taking on a lot for me…”
Kinger shrugs. “It doesn’t feel like a lot to me. Go clock out.” He pats my shoulder again and leaves.

…Huh.
I stand there for a while, thinking about everything Kinger said. I’m honestly pretty confused, but eventually his advice gets through to me and I go and clock out. I make myself a Pb&J sandwich for dinner, then head back to my room. The medicine really does start bothering me, so I take it out and just put it in his on-call room, since he seemed busy with Jax, and that actually helps a fuckton, just to have it away from me. I come back to my room and sit at my desk with my sandwich and my sketchbook out, drawing edgy angsty vent art underneath the warm lamplight while the rain still beats down. It’s still thundering, but I don’t hear Jax crying as much. I take a so-hot-it’s-boiling shower and close my eyes as I stand underneath the water, imagining that it’s the same as the rain outside. It’s really refreshing, and is honestly a sort of small relief, that, at least doesn’t come with all the other baggage of the stuff I was trying to do to calm myself down before. I get dressed in the cleanest pajamas I can find, (although they aren’t very clean as I haven’t had time to do my own laundry in a week), take some melatonin, and tuck myself into bed, even though it’s crazy early, not even being *Jax’s* crazy early bedtime yet.
And for the first time in a long time I feel…Kind of okay.
Then I remember that I can’t talk to Pomni tomorrow because she’ll be translating for Jax at his psychiatric testing all day.
Fuck. Me.