1. Chapter One #2
Nolan fills me in on what’s happened so far.
There’s something about him and Maison and the kitchen.
I try to concentrate, but his words start to spiral to mirror his own emotions and I can’t get a good hold on them.
I can’t slow them down. They get tangled up in my head, wrap around my throat, pierce into my chest. The food I was trying to eat for him has turned to cement in my stomach.
I can’t keep what he’s saying straight inside my head.
I try to make him feel better, but I don’t think it’s working.
Nolan is falling apart and I’m useless.
I am so fucking useless.
“I don’t know how to be this person,” he admits.
Neither do I, I want to tell him. You’re not alone.
It feels important that I give him those words, at the very least. They’re right there in the front of my mind.
I should grab them, share them, before they fade into the buzzing chaos.
I know enough signs to get the point across.
I know I do. I just need to find them where they’re lost among the rest of the mess, hiding, shadowed and afraid in the darker corners of my mind.
I manage to grab two and cling to them, forcing my fingers into the right shapes to sign, learn, then, together.
It doesn’t feel like enough, even as he smiles at me. Even as he agrees.
I wonder if it ever will.
Our welcome bags didn’t just have cute stuffed animals and snacks, but information about the safehouse, extra clothes, and appointment notices.
Some of the overwhelming words last night were about appointments.
About how they’d be scheduled in order of necessity.
I don’t know when they evaluated us - before we arrived, obviously, since the cards were in the bags already.
Maybe the agent who traveled with us sent in a report? I guess it doesn’t matter.
All I know is that I’m scheduled before Nolan. When I ask him to come with me, he agrees easily. It’s a relief. Talking to a doctor is going to be awful enough considering the kind of things he’ll likely want to discuss. At least with Nolan, I have help communicating and moral support.
I tuck my bunny into the front pocket of my sweatshirt, then tuck myself right behind Nolan as he leads us out of the room.
It feels like something bad should happen when we walk out, but it’s quiet in the hall.
Empty. I try not to let it feel eerie, reminding myself that my appointment is one of the first of the day.
Most of the survivors are probably still sleeping. Or hiding. Or have already left.
Or this is all a lie and they were killed or sold or-
“Hey,” Nolan says, quiet and soft. He grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze before continuing to hold on.
He smiles when I squeeze back. “You okay to do this? I know we can’t really trust them yet, but maybe I could talk to Maison?
Or we could find Bryce and see what he says?
” His smile twists toward mischievousness.
“You and I both know that Bryce probably already has his finger on the pulse of this place, after all.”
He’s not wrong. If there’s a knight in shining armor in this whole situation, it’d be Bryce. Even if he isn’t the one who saved us in the end, he’s the one that kept us all alive long enough for… well, whatever this is. Hopefully rescue and safety. Or something close to it, at least.
What matters is that there’s the slightest chance that Bryce is actually resting right now instead of working behind the scenes like usual. If any of us deserves that, it’s Bryce.
“Matt?” Nolan asks with another squeeze of my hand. “Do you want to see if you can do this another time?”
I shake my head. Even if I don’t want to do this now, I won’t want to do it later either. I might as well get it over with. Then maybe I’ll just go and hide under the bed with this new bunny for the rest of my life or something.
I don’t know how Nolan knows where the doctor’s office is. Maybe we were told when we first arrived, but if we did, the words slipped through the cracks of my mind. It doesn’t really matter. He gets us there, which is what matters.
The doctor is a man. I really wish the doctor wasn’t a man. Why didn’t I prepare myself for the possibility that this doctor could be a man? Who here even thought that this doctor being a man would be a good idea?
Nolan is squeezing my hand again, this time one long hold. We stand together in the doorway as the man stands from his chair and smiles at us. “Welcome. Matt, yes? And you are…?”
“Nolan,” Nolan answers, sounding a little defensive. More defensive than I think I’ve probably ever heard him before, considering how compliant he always was with our masters. “How’d you know he’s Matt?”
“Excellent question. I planned on disclosing this in a few minutes, but I suppose we can start right away.” He turns just enough to pick up a file from his desk before looking back at us.
He lifts it to make it clear that’s what he’s talking about when he says, “I have a file on each of you, with as much information as our tech guy, Ace, could collect. It also has information related to your experiences within the operation. While in Travis’s compound, mostly, but any information he was given at the time he took you in as well.
The files include pictures, so I recognized you. ”
I don’t think I like that.
I think maybe it might help, it might answer questions I don’t want to have to try figuring out how to answer myself, but still… not a big fan.
From the look on Nolan’s face, he doesn’t seem all that enthused either.
“Do you want to see?” the doctor asks me, offering the file.
My file. His eyes flicker over to Nolan while keeping his arm outstretched.
“I can also get yours from my lock box, Nolan. I only have the ones for this morning’s scheduled patients out right now, but you have the right to see yours if you would like to. ”
“I’d rather not,” Nolan answers honestly.
I eye my own file. I’m not entirely sure I want to see it either.
Is it even accurate? Does it mention the whole not talking thing? Is there information about… that night in there?
The sudden thought is a sledgehammer right to my chest, knocking the wind out of me.
I stumble more than step forward, like a string has yanked me toward the doctor.
My hand shakes as I take the file. Nolan has followed me like he’s attached to the same string.
He presses against my side, chin on my shoulder. “You okay, Matty?”
I don’t know, so I can’t answer. I don’t know if I’d be able to answer even if I did know. It feels like everything is tilting. Like the ground has turned slippery and I’m about to slide right off of this plane of existence.
Nolan leads me to an exam table, using his hands to get me to sit, then taking a seat beside me. I don’t know if he was told to do that or if he just decided himself. I try to pay closer attention, ignoring the wobbly feeling growing inside me.
“Well, I’m Dr. Deacon,” the doctor begins softly.
I flinch when I hear the door click shut, snapping my gaze over to it.
Nolan rubs a hand on my back, murmuring that we’re both okay, we’re both safe.
I don’t know how he feels so fucking confident in that.
It might be two-on-one in here, but we’re malnourished and at least half-broken, and this man could have weapons. At the very least, he surely has drugs.
What if this entire thing - this entire place - is a sick trap? What if we’re just here before we’re sold again? Is he going to assess us now to see what we’re worth?
Or is it that this place is real, but he’s secretly corrupt? Will he hurt us? Drug us first and convince everyone we just dreamt it? Convince everyone we’re-
“Matt,” Nolan says. He’s using that tone that means he’s said my name more than once now. I flinch, but I’m not sure if it's because of the sudden sound of his voice or the terrifying thoughts in my head or- “Matt?” he says again.
I force myself to meet his eyes to let him know I’m listening. “He asked if you want him to open the door again?”
“I can’t promise total privacy,” the doctor adds. “But we should hear anyone coming down the hall before they can hear any of the details we’re discussing. It’s up to you. Whichever will make you feel more comfortable, we can do.”
I manage a jerky nod. The anxiety doesn't ease once the door is open again, but it at least stops growing. I'll take the win. I could really use a win.
“I like to start these off by asking a few questions, just to get a sense of how you're feeling physically.
Then I'll take your vitals - your temperature, blood pressure, listen to your heart and lungs, that type of thing.
After that, I have a list of questions. Then it's time for any testing that needs to be done, including drawing some blood if you'll allow me so we can see if there are any internal issues we need to address.”
I don't look at him, staring down at the file in my lap instead. This doesn’t really seem like it’ll be anything more than a regular doctor check-up, but it feels like way too much. It feels like a marathon with no preparation or training, no water, no support. It feels endless. Impossible.
I run my thumb along the edge of the file, trying to think of what words I would say to him if I could. They aren't there. It's like running fingers through smoke, trying to grab the puffs.
“That's usually how I like to start,” he continues. “But sometimes circumstances call for something else. I think it's only fair that I tell you that your file has you listed as nonverbal.” I close my eyes, torn between relief and shame. His voice is softer when he continues. “I’d like to address that first, if that’s okay?”
I nod, even though it doesn’t feel okay at all.
“Can I ask you some yes or no questions? Or questions with only two choices for answers?”