2. | PATIENT 37 [S. STILINSKI]

chapter eight: [admitted]

"You'll never learn to face your enemy, if you spend your life practicing with someone who isn't."

          Indigo's POV

      Humming echoed in my ears. But, it wasn't a voice humming. It was more of the hum from light, like a lamp. I opened my eyes and there was a lamp, leaning over my head. I squinted at the brightness of it and tried to raise my hand to block it, but my hand wouldn't budge. I glanced down and my left hand was strapped down, along with my right. I was strapped down. The metal table under me was cold and wet, but the liquid was pungent.

     Blood.

  The feeling was anything but pleasant, although the smell made my fangs grow, poking my bottom lip as they tried to protrude. I felt my ankles were held down the same as the rest of me, leather chaffing against the skin. I winced when I tried to move, wounds on my wrist and ankles so fresh and vulnerable. It looked like I had been struggling for hours. Days.

    I heard mumbles and then footsteps, their shoes scuffing against the floor. Multiple people. Their talking ceased as they stood next to me, their heads leaning over me, which blocked the light, just enough for my eyes to adjust. I blinked rapidly and tried to look at their faces, but all I saw were shadows, outlines of people.

       "She's still resisting." One observed, a man. "Experiment A, trial 1 has appeared to be confirmed. The boy's blood works."

    "Replace test tube with trial 2." The other nodded, turning away from the table. "We move on to review next results."

   I turned my head and watched as the man reached up to a bag, a bag of red. Like the ones at the hospital that towered next to patient beds. He unscrewed the bag and set it down, gathering a different bag and putting it in place. He attached some tubes to the new bag and I watched the blood run down, trailing to the needle sticking out of the inside of my elbow.

    "What are you doing?" I frantically asked, looking to the both of them. Neither answered. As a matter of fact, they didn't even look to me, as if I hadn't said anything.

    "Hey." I snapped. "What's going on?"

  My arm began to ache and I groaned, looking back to it. It began flexing and veins were rushing. I gasped at the feeling. I could sense it flowing through out my entire body. I felt cold and could feel the blood rushing everywhere. My fangs began to throb and my eyes flickered in color. A low growl seeped from my throat, and finally, the two men turned to me.

     "She's reacting. Note this. Experiment A, trail 2 is a success. Paraphrase: the boys blood is the only one she may consume to remain in control; foreign blood seems to engage hostility and enact defense functions; teeth have grown in considerable size, claws lengthened, iris' now glow a shade of green; conclusion is attainable, trail 2, which includes 50 milliliters of werewolf blood, deems effective results."

    My head snapped to the man who was speaking, body hot with anger.

  "What are you doing to me?!" I snapped, the straps groaning as I struggled. The man, again, didn't react to me, which only made me even more livid.