Ascension│Bluelock x male reader

36. Terror

"No, please!"

The shout of pure terror echoed through the cold concrete room. Hearing it, Y/N clenched his teeth shut, closing his eyes as he shouted right back inside his head. Couldn't they just keep quiet like everyone else?

"Nooo!" The scream continued. "It hurts... Stop! Stop stop stop stop!"

Y/N's small fingers clenched at the side of the plastic chair he was sitting in, knuckles turning white. He didn't want to look at the other boy, even though his cries filled the entire room. He didn't want to see what was going to happen.

Around him, other boys shifted nervously on their own chairs. All of them were in various states of terror, some quivering in place, others biting lips hard enough to draw blood as they stared at the floor. Quite a lot of them were on the verge of crying, emotions easily readable on their youthful faces.

A coach walked up and down the line of boys. They were arranged in neat rows, with around fifty of them in the room.

Though, calling him a coach would be slightly incorrect. He acted more like a guard, with a face hidden behind a mask, a black jumpsuit and baseball cap.

When he got in front of Y/N, he paused. Y/N wasn't watching him. He only saw the guard's booted feet stop in front of his chair, gulping anxiously.

"You're a good boy, aren't you?" The guard spoke quietly, without a hint of emotion. "No tears. No screaming."

Y/N nodded slowly, hands gripping the sides of his plastic chair even harder. His fingers were turning purple, but he didn't pay any attention. "Yes, sir."

"Hey!" The guard spun around, the loud yell startling Y/N. The little boy's heart pounded as he stared at the floor, not daring to look up. Next to him, another boy gasped with surprise at the sharp noise.

"Is that kid done?" The screaming had subsided slightly, reduced to a pitiful whimpering. Y/N risked a glance up, spotting a group of people huddled around a medical bed.

They didn't look human. They looked like aliens, all in their blue and white scrubs, fingertips stained with crimson. One of them carried an enormous syringe, the needle at the end dripping blood. He swiftly returned his gaze to the floor.

Someone who Y/N assumed was a doctor spoke, his voice muffled. "We're just gonna give him the final injection now. Why, is there a rush?"

"After, you should do that kid. See him right there?" Y/N's fingers were turning numb. He concentrated on the feeling of pins and needles, never once taking his eyes off the concrete floor. "He's braver than the others."

"Gotcha." Y/N's heart was going to rip out of his chest. It was so painful, banging on the inside of his ribcage. And his head hurt. And he wanted to go home. His hands were rapidly losing strength, holding onto the chair so hard he might cut himself.

"W-wait! No! I don't wanna!" The pathetic kid's noises resumed, a mindless, fearful babble that only served as white noise to Y/N. "I wanna go home! Plea-"

The voice was abruptly cut off. Y/N's next breath caught in his mouth.

Then a deafening scream echoed through the concrete walls, bouncing off the hard material and rebounding on Y/N's ears. It was long, high-pitched, full of agony. Y/N grimaced, bile rising in his throat. He clenched his teeth shut. He couldn't show weakness.

It only stopped for a second. In the gap between, what should've been silence was broken by a ragged, desperate breath, before the screaming began again.