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Cassidy’s eyes open, and today begins the same as each day has for as long as he’s been alive. He is fitted with a strange collar, and the song in his mind falls utterly silent, leaving him lonely and bereft, like a boy who has lost his puppy. The power he can always feel just at the edges of his consciousness slips further away from him. He knows that if he could touch it, just for a moment, he could leave this place behind. His captor, a man named George, tosses him brown scrubs, like doctors wear, and leaves the room a moment to let him change. His fingers drift upward to the collar on his neck, and he thinks momentarily about trying to tug it off. The collar will explode if you tamper with it, and you will die. Cassidy sighs to himself and wonders if death wouldn’t be a better fate than this. Still, he’s not brave enough to find out, and his hand drops, reaching out to take up his garments. He dresses in silence, trying to keep the tears from falling. Crying is a weakness he can’t afford, not here and now, and not ever if he wants to live. Once he’s dressed, George returns and ushers him of the dressing room and down the hall to breakfast. The food is excellent, bacon, scrambled eggs and waffles with fruit, with apple juice to wash it down. These would be his favorite things if he were anywhere else. As it stands, he might as well be eating flavored dirt. Doctor Millbury’s “assistants” (Cassidy knows that none of them have any medical training to speak of) sit at a table across the room, strangely silent for once. Normally, they’re all laughing loudly (especially “Rita”; she doesn’t have an indoor voice) or joking, but today they’re all somber and irritable. Cassidy further notices that there are only four them sitting at the table. The big biker-looking guy isn’t with them. “He’s dying because of you.” Vanessa says.
Cassidy stops eating abruptly, and looks over to the woman. He knows that she can read people’s minds, like Doctor Millbury. He called her a telepath during their lessons. “I didn’t do anything to him.” Cassidy says hotly. “Yeah, but he got hurt trying to get stuff to make you better. So it’s your fault.” Slab says. “Maybe he shouldn’t have pissed off whoever he pissed off.” Cassidy says, going back to his food, wish he hadn’t said it the moment the words left his mouth.
The world lurched and Cassidy finds himself falling out of the chair, unable to determine which way is up, down, right or left. He's vaguely aware that someone is yelling at him. It's Vanessa, he's sure. He'd get up and defend himself, but he's now focused on trying to keep his food down. She yells obscenities and epithets at him that no one should ever utter at another person. He feels a sharp kick to his ribs, then another, and another and he curls up on the floor, trying to keep himself under control. The pain and disorientation continues for what seems like an eternity, and all Cassidy wants is for it all to stop, for it to end, even if it means dying.
And then it does.
The world stops spinning, and the sound of screaming is the only thing he can hear now, as Vanessa lies just a few feet away on the floor, clutching her her head. Blood comes from her nose, her eyes, and from between her fingers as her ears bleed in synch. Cassidy is still trying to keep his food down, but he manages to look up and finds his savior eyeing him.
"Cassidy, are you well?" Dr. Millbury asks. A small part of the young man is happy to have the pain stop, but Dr. Millbury's tests are usually more taxing and painful than what just happened with Vanessa.
The larger part of him wishes she'd killed him outright.
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