Evil Is Pink (bxb)

Chapter 12

"You're smart and you're strong"

Sticks's face flushed every time he imagined Tendril saying those words to him.

Wow.

Seriously though.

Just wow.

He never realized how great it could feel to hear someone say something like that. Was there anything else in the whole world that could feel as good as praise from an older person?

Sticks didn't realize it until now but he had been waiting for something like this. He imagined what it would be like to hear those exact words from his father. He wished he could hear him say something similar...

A guilty sadness overtook him again.

His father would never say anything like that. That's just not how he does things.

His father loved a little differently than other fathers. Sticks realized this pretty quickly once he learned how to read. In all the picture books and stories and videos he watched, the father always seemed so much...happier to be with their sons. Sticks didn't understand why he was so different...

Then came a thought Sticks never thought about before. What if...Dr. King is the one who was different?

Sticks had the rest of the day to reflect. After the lecture, Tendril did his usual thing and left abruptly before Sticks had the time to truly absorb what he was saying. And when Sticks tried to run after him, he somehow disappeared into the incoming masses.

And so Sticks dwelled on it. He was glad he had something to distract and keep his mind occupied for the next few hours. He walked aimlessly to his pick up location, disassociating from the torture that was to come.

Because of his strange immunity to the collars, as soon as he was released from the mines, he had been forced to stay in a special unit in the laboratories, a good league away from the usual prison barracks. The lab was near the very top of one of the towers and could only be found after passing through several uniquely armored guards and passageways.

The first time he entered through those laboratory doors, he was musty, sweaty, bloody and full of soot. But alive and in one piece. Immediately, Sticks could tell that this section of the prison was unlike the rest of the complex. It was well kept, sparkling clean, and guards were astoundingly more intimidating. They were leagues different from the regular guards who kept watch. These ones had their faces hidden behind a bulky helmet that looked like it was crafted for space-soldiers. Their bodies were armored as though they were about to fight in an intergalactic war, and their weapons were the size of Sticks himself. Sticks had a pretty good feeling that if he were to get blasted by one of these, even he would have trouble recovering from it...if at all.

The moment he laid eyes on the guards after passing through the laboratory entrance, his collar sizzled and a thrust of pain shot through his body, knocking him out completely until he woke up in a black room strapped to a metal bed of some sort, with wires stuck all around his pink body, and a tube and mask over his face.

"Ah, you're awake," a familiar voice said.

Sticks wanted to move, but none of his limbs responded. He could not even turn his neck to face the voice. Instead his eyes rolled to the side to see the figure come into view from the shadows, looming over him. He couldn't even speak.

"Oh my poor summer dove," Mr. Quinn said with a heartfelt, sorrowful expression. "You've been through so much, haven't you?"

He raised his hand, and with it held a knife. He was smiling. A sweet smile with frosted teeth. He poked the tip of the knife gently onto Sticks's arm. The gleam of the knife matched the shininess of Mr. Quinn's soapy skin. He felt the sharpness of the knife's tip, but did not yet feel his skin break. Sticks swallowed, watching with helpless horror.