Ultramarine -- REWRITTEN

Five. [h.s.] -- REWRITTEN

          I felt exhausted from how much I thought of what she had told me. My brain hurt from keeping it inside and trying to make sense of it. How and why would a purpose of Panacea include manipulating thoughts? I replayed the memory of Charmaine breaking away from the leather straps: how the veins in her neck popped underneath her skin, and the muscles on her arms flexed as she seemed to pull away in slow motion with some superhuman force. I also noticed the white, faded line just above her collarbone that stuck out against red skin. I had studied it while Aria completed the experiment on her--which had failed. I had watched as areas of her jumpsuit slowly became soaked with sweat, also following the beads that trailed down her chin. Her skin had glistened in the light from the heat that surged through her body. A small part of me felt compassion and pity, but had quickly diminished when I remembered her reason for being trapped. She was dangerous, so she deserved it.

          I hadn't told Doctor Gallagher about my sudden and fleeting feeling of pity, because it was only for a moment. Even after two sessions, I felt slightly better about my situation. She'd probably be dead in a matter of weeks, and I'd be onto greater and better things.

          I walked confidently down the corridor to her chamber, but stopped when I heard faint screams. Deep inside I knew that I should ignore it--for it wasn't any of my business--and would only further push and satisfy my curiosity. It would only spark new questions once I found out what it was; if I left it alone, on the other hand, I'd always wonder what the screaming was. To figure out what it was would be one thing, but to leave it alone altogether was something else entirely.

          I followed the noise, passing no one, but drawing closer to the sound. My steps were quick since I knew that I had to be at her chamber by a certain time. If not, the cameras would turn off, and she'd be all alone to find another way to escape. Finally pinpointing where the sound was being suffocated, I opened up the door.

          A cool breeze hit me once I stepped in. The yelling stopped and a man stood behind a glass wall. His breath fogged the glass as I closed the door behind me.

          "Harry? Is that you?" he breathed, hands pressed eagerly against the glass. I furrowed my eyebrows and took a closer look at the man.

          "Brian?" I questioned, stepping closer to the glass. He nodded rapidly. I observed him further, trying to figure out what was off about him. Nothing seemed different, but something was. "Why are you in here?" I looked around the small space. There was nothing in his glass cage but a small pillow and blanket.

          "I'm being extricated, but I need to tell you something before I forget."

          "I actually have to get going--"

          "Stop taking your capsules," he interrupted. Taken aback, I furrowed my eyebrows.

          "What?"

          "Don't take them! It manipulates your mind and makes it so you'll never truly feel. You never really have your own thoughts or emotions when you take them because it charges the Panacea inside of you. Once you stop taking them, a veil lifts and nothing is how it was before. They gave me a large dose of whatever is in the capsule and it's turning me into a Mahogany. I'm forgetting everything and how it feels to feel," he choked, grasping his chest. "I'm numb. Going without the capsules and feeling something beautiful to not feeling anything at all is the worst thing imaginable, and it's painful."I focused on his eye color, which indeed had the mahogany color seeping through his pupil. "Harry, are you listening?" he yelled, banging his fist against the glass. Not affected by his outburst, I spoke calmly even when my mind was reeling.