Beyond the Horizon

34. Sorry

Shion slept fitfully that night.

          After the shock of waking up in Horizon Labs, and the anxiety of his interaction with Lab Coat, he had passed out for the rest of the day. He had only woken up once in the night to go to the bathroom—too groggy and desperate to be ashamed of the exposure it necessitated—and when that was done, he immediately fell onto his cot and into unconsciousness again.

          Shion woke the next morning coated in a hot sheen of sweat, though the room itself was cool. He must have had a nightmare, though he couldn't remember it. He prayed for a moment that the events of yesterday were just that: a nightmare. But when he opened his eyes, he was not surprised to see the concrete cell around him. A bone-deep resignation settled over him.

          His throat felt dry and sore, the way it did whenever he had strep as a kid, but there was something different today. Shion reached a hand up to his neck and felt bare skin; the bandages were gone.

          Shion shot up into a sitting position and pressed the bruised skin, confused and frightened. He could feel a small, raised bump where the dart must have buried into his flesh. How had the bandages been removed without him noticing? He was by no means a light sleeper, but he definitely would have woken up if someone peeled tape and gauze from his throat. More importantly, the only way into the cell block was down a loud metal staircase, and if anyone had come down it in the middle of the night, it would have woken everyone.

          Had he been drugged?

          The white cylinder sat on the floor where he'd left it, unopened. If he were drugged, it had to have come from another source. Shion looked up. A slatted vent was embedded in the ceiling over his cot. It was likely for air circulation—they did appear to be in the basement of a building—but Shion imagined that other things could be pumped into the air through it.

          What did Lab Coat say yesterday? "I, however, might have to gas you from time to time to get my work done."

          Shion's fingers slipped from around his throat and dropped to his wrist, seeking comfort from the charm bracelet there.

          He gasped and raised his arm, hoping to feel the familiar cool weight of the bracelet slide against his skin, expecting to hear the charms jangle against one another as they settled. But his wrist was light and bare, the air silent.

          His charm bracelet—his most prized possession, his only link to home—was gone.

          Heat climbed up the back of Shion's aching throat. He curled his legs up to his chest and buried his head between his knees.

          Don't cry, he told himself. It won't do anything. It won't bring it back. Stay strong. Don't cry.

          Shion chided himself with logic, reassured himself with hope, consoled himself with platitudes. But none of it mattered. His eyes burned with tears and his chest felt hollowed out. The Lab had taken everything: His possessions, his powers, his partner, his freedom. What did he have left but his tears?

          "Hey. Fluffy. You crying?"

          Shion swiped at his cheeks and peered over his knees. Rin's large dark eyes stared back at him. The child had flipped onto their stomach and propped themselves up onto their elbows.

          Rin's mouth pulled into a thin line. "Guess you are."

          "Leave him alone," sighed Hitomi. She was still curled on her side in bed, and with the mask covering the upper half of her face, it was impossible to tell whether she was fully awake or still half asleep. "You cried a lot when you first arrived."