Asylum (Mcr Fic)

Tyler

The man leads me into a room with Mikey.

Mikey isnt as Mikey as before though.

The awkward and slightly defeated statute he sometimes took seems to have been completely obliterated and his hair is knotted on top of his head. Only now do I realise he has muscles like someone who works out. I curse myself for being so trusting and blind.

He is standing in the middle of a mat like he is expecting me.

"You think that Im going to cooperate with this guy?" I say, turning to the man who brought me here.

"We have almost complete control of your body, all the experiments, they have taught us everything," The man states, crossing his arms.

"Im not going to say a word to him. Its not going to happen." I wonder how they could control me.

The man walks to the corner of the room and stands there. I turn around and Mikeys arms flex.

"Seven, Im going to train you to fight."

Thats all he says. I nod and he steps forward. I could honestly use some fighting training. 

"I feel youre going to pick this up quickly."

I decide that knowing how to fight could help me escape. He shows me how to grab peoples arms and twist them behind their backs and how taking it an inch further would break their arm. He shows me how to trip someone up and how to then pin them to the floor. He shows me good places to aim to temporarily disable someone and how to hit them. Eventually, he teaches me how to block and throw hits.

I dont fight against Mikey yet, just in case he fucks me up, I practice on a hanging bag.

Later, I take a sip from water that the man gave me and sit on the bench. Im still to say a single word to Mikey as he sits down next to me.

"So, Seven, how do you think your first day went?" He asks.

I dont reply.

"You have to talk to me eventually."

I cross my arms, leaning back.

"I only did it for the good of the experiment."

I stand up and walk over to the doctor who had been watching and ask for him to take me back to the box.

The box being my room. Tiny and made from a flimsy brown material.

The man escorts me back and I follow silently.

I dont watch the door shrink into the wall, or the drip attach itself to me. I sit on the bed, pulling my legs up to my chest, and wait for the silence that normally follows most daytime occurrences.

Im getting used to a routine of waking up, freaking out, being tested, trained, improved... I cant tell the difference between dream and reality anymore.

It may all just be a nightmare.

I really dont know.

Its just like the asylum again.

Today they put a standing punching bag in my room. They had to move the bed into the corner of the room.

Ive sharpened my nails to the point that I cut a line in the brown material-on-concrete walls. Eventually, I use my left hand nails to finish the line, making it into an 'H' shape.

I start drawing another line when I hear the door behind me. There is no door closing sound so I turn around. Ray is writing on a clipboard.

Ray who I thought cared for my life for moral, friendship reasons.