"We only ask that you don't tell anyone about this... incident," the ass in the suit says.
"I can't promise that, until you tell me what happened," I say with a glare.
The grown ups share glances around the table before one of them sighs.
"As you probably know, we are looking for a cure. And sometimes we take in, with the family's permission, people who didn't make it to the next stage when they were infected. We do experiments in an attempt to find a cure," He pauses and takes a deep breath.
"Recently, a murderer was infected. He had hurt hundreds of people. He didn't have a family but he was an organ donor. Since being infected, by law, is the equivalent to dying. When the police found him, they brought him here to be kept until he was sent over. But when we heard about him, we asked if we could take a look. We are all too young to properly remember what it was like before they put up the Wall; seeing a live infected patient could have helped tremendously. The mayor even gave us permission to use his body for research, when we explained how useful it would be."
"So, we restrained him and sedated him we did everything we could to prevent him from hurting him. Most of the guards were on the same floor as where we were working. We even hired more guards to stand outside the lab. Which is why your father was up here. Unfortunately we did not realise exactly how much the disease changes in the human body. He woke up 15 minutes after we put him to sleep. He tore the bonds like they were paper and ran out the room. When he got outside, he went for a guard. Your dad got in the way and, well, that murderer took his last life," he finishes, his eyes searching for my reaction
I take a shaky breath and blink back my tears.
"So what you're saying is, you fucked up and now my dad has paid the price."
"I'll thank you not to use that language," says a stern women to the left of the man who spoke to me.
"I don't give a shit!" I spit. "You just told me that my dad is dead because you didn't think. Maybe if you had locked the door. If you had done something a little bit clever. I wouldn't have to go home and tell a little boy that his dad is dead. Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to leave the ass-institution and go home!" I yell. I get up and storm towards the door.
Before I leave one of them says, " I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry."
When I turn to look I realise that I recognise him from a few months ago. He lost a sister. A twin.
"So am I," I whisper
