Chapter 8
Eight
The room was all white.
And it was cold.
It reminded him of the dark tunnel from before, yet it was the complete opposite too.
He couldn’t recall how he’d gotten there. It was all blank.
Looking around the room, he tried to figure out where he’d been taken. This wasn’t like any room in the home he’d ever been in. He would have remembered a place like this.
It reminded him of one of those tv shows she’d sometimes watch, the ones with doctors and nurses who helped people when they were sick. He never understood how the people on the tv were so nice, yet everyone around him was mean.
Footsteps echoed around him. His eyes sought out their origin as panic rose within him.
Was he going to get another beating? Was she here and ready to take him to where she’d planned? Was he going to be forced to watch more people get hurt?
His stomach lurched at the last one. Somehow, it was worse than the physical attacks. Even the roughest marks could heal with time. He could never erase the memory of the things he’d been forced to witness.
“Ah, you’re awake. That’s good,” a deep voice said.
Turning toward the noise, he found an older man in jeans, a white button down, and a large apron. There was blood on the apron, and he held some type of device in his hand.
He didn’t wait to see what would happen next.
Not wanting to be an experiment ever again, he did the one thing he’d always said he would if they ever tried to use him like that again.