The boy opened his eyes halfway to see a translucent emerald sheen over him. Lavender, organic lines moved as waves across the green as they performed their sole duty. He smiled and chuckled groggily at them. Looking outside of the sheen, the comforting darkness of night time transformed the room into silhouettes. Turning his head to the left, the boy saw a shadow in the shape of his sword and shield, stacked carefully on top of a white box made gray with darkness. His mind was cloudy with sleep, so no words formed in the boy’s mind, but he did feel relief. The boy moved his head to the right to see a door. Confused, the boy wondered why he wanted to leave the comfort of his bed. He wasn’t hungry. It was so relaxing. Couldn’t he just sleep a little more? Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his right hand. Looking down, the boy tried to figure out what was wrong with his hand, only to discover why he couldn’t move.
Large iron shackles pinned his body to the bed. Any time the boy tried to move, the grip tightened around his torso, crushing him to the spot. Around the area where his arm should be, was nothing except for a bloody bone-saw, a needle, thread stained with metallic-scented blood, and his sword.
Red’s eyes jolted open in surprise, and he tried to shout for help, only to find his voice being crushed away from himself. The door to his right opened and harsh, bright light hit Red’s eyes. The light blinded Red, yet he could somehow still see the man who entered. A tall, skinny man in robin’s egg blue, blood-stained scrubs, smiled at his patient, wire-rimmed, ocular aided eyes bright with amusement. He held his hands behind his back and stood with the confident posture of an individual who know what he was doing, but the dark undertone his bright blue eyes held, would make anyone worry what, exactly, that entailed.
“It’s alright, everything will be perfectly fine. I’ll fix you right up.” The doctor told Red in a maliciously soothing tone. Walking up to the bed, the doctor clapped his hands in front of himself; rubbing them with eagerness to begin whatever procedure he had planned. Red began to cry from the sheer terror he felt. He had finally awakened enough to form thoughts. Where’s Green? Where’s Vio? Where is Blue? Why isn’t anyone here to help me?
Blue jolted up in bed, the nightmare fresh in his mind. Slowly, without feeling or sound, the child hugged his knees to his chest and rested his forehead on them.
This was the position Blue stayed in, without sobbing, without shrieking, frozen, when Vio opened the door the next morning to tell him that breakfast was ready.
