Sally's Secret

Chapter 18

Telling The Alchemist that Kayo's favourite food was strawberries when Maria knew full well that Kayo avoided them due to a sensitivity earned her a third branding on her forearm. She was mentally prepared to get punished for hiding Sally's favourite and faking something for Brains, whose favourite she didn't know, but The Alchemist unexpectedly left. Of course, he could just be behind a bulkhead, but any reprieve was better than none.

Everything hurt. Maria let her head fall back against the chair and tried to breathe deeply, but her body wasn't allowing anything resembling rest. Her cheeks and jaws throbbed, feeling like every heartbeat expanded their swelling, causing the pressure to build to explosive levels. That alone would have been enough, but her face had to vie for attention with the now thrice-seared left forearm. Maybe his next punishment would be something merciful, like chopping off that stupid arm. She had to be losing her sanity if dismemberment was starting to sound good.

Time was passing strangely. She couldn't have said if it was seconds or hours before The Alchemist returned. No matter how long he'd been away, his return was much too soon. Maria's insides clenched up. She wanted to launch into a truly vulgar diatribe, perhaps in Spanish to reduce the risk he would understand, but she probably couldn't disguise her tone enough to fool him and she was too afraid of the consequences. It was one thing to pay a high price to keep secrets that could get other people killed, but the price was too high to pay for stupid things like insulting a psychopath just to feel a fleeting moment of satisfaction.

He pressed her right hand against the chair arm and growled, "Hold still."

Like the ropes around her wrists weren't enough? In another second, a sharp stab clarified what he was doing. He'd hit the vein on the back of her hand with a peripheral intravenous needle. Horrified, her first reaction was to jerk her hand away, but he held it very tight and what little movement she was able to effect only caused her more pain at the entry wound. The needle was in and there was nothing she could do about it. Breaking the needle off inside her vein was not a good idea. She gave up fighting it while he taped down the tubing. He attached a bag and hung it up, but she couldn't see the bag clearly, much less make out any label. "What's that for?" she asked, even though the answer couldn't possibly be good.

His voice was amused when he told her, "A little concoction of my own device. Some sodium thiopental, flunitrazepam, quinalbarbitone, and various assorted benzodiapines." He most likely thought his laundry list of chemical names would sound frightening, and he was right, but not the way he probably assumed. She wasn't the type that would be terrified for being forced to drink pure dihydrogen monoxide. Years of chemistry classes and medical school weren't completely useless. One of those drugs was widely used for assisted suicide and another one used to be the drug of choice for lethal injections back when judicial systems imposed a death penalty. Beyond that, they were sedative, hypnotic, psychoactive, and all had a history of being used to loosen lips and get the truth from unwilling interrogation subjects. It's a freaking truth serum.

However, Maria's panic over the possibility of impending death or the likelihood she'd be completely unable to keep any more secrets didn't last because this chemical cocktail wouldn't allow it. Even though she understood her loss of fear was drug induced and unreliable in the absolute sense, she had no control over the way she started to feel. It was like a super groovy influx of relaxation, apathy, and delirium. The pain still existed, but she was floating along so happily that the pain was like a buzzing fly, an irritation she could just wave aside for now.

A part of her brain knew this was very bad. She'd very soon lose all will to fight suggestions and spill the contents of her head without regard to its consequences. Some corner of her mind had an idea that seemed important, although where it came from or whether it would accomplish anything, she didn't know, but something told her she needed to sing. Like, a lot. She also couldn't explain why this song was the one that had to spring forth from her off-key lips, but it was most likely his fault for throwing medical school into the forefront of her brain with his list of drug names.