《dot.》1: Still Alive
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Beep. Beep. Beep.
Am I dead yet?
Beep. Beep. Beep.
What's that?
Beep. Beep. Beep.
A heart monitor?
Dot's eyes fluttered open, much to his dismay.
Still alive.
The green, flashing screen of the heart monitor made his eyes ache, a dull pain building in his head with every incessant beep of the machine. His body was so weak he couldn't even lift a finger, the only life in him was his thudding heart and shaking breath, drew in by failing lungs.
"Still alive, eh?" Dot's body proved itself capable of movement as he flinched at the sound of the voice. He couldn't move very far, however- tight leather straps held down by rusty iron nails prevented him from escape. Not that he'd be able to get out even if he wasn't tied down. He was too exhausted.
Laying spreadeagled on the stainless steel table, Dot's headache was growing unbearable as the fluorescent lights above dug into his eyes. The woman beside him seemed to be waiting for him to do something and while he had no idea what she wanted, he felt he had better try to figure it out: failure to comply with her wishes only resulted in additional suffering.
He sucked in a painful breath. The air tasted sharply of disinfectant and it took all his willpower not to cough. He began to focus on the tip of his pinkie finger, willing it to move.
The stubborn appendage refused to comply, responding with the most pathetic little twitch the boy had ever seen in his life. He tried to keep his breathing steady as he waited to see if his efforts had been enough to appease her, but the increasing frequency of beeps coming from the heart monitor betrayed his growing anxiety.
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Fortunately, she seemed to be satisfied with what little movement he was capable of. He saw her mouth grow into a smile through his half-lidded eyes as she reached an arm out to stroke the fur on his spindly hand. This time, his body hadn't even the energy to flinch away from her repulsive touch.
"Good boy." She murmured, the deep purr of her voice twisting Dot's insides into a mass of bloody knots. What was she going to do now? She wouldn't just let him off this easily. His head began to spin as he braced himself for the inevitable pain.
She unlocked the restraints around his wrists and ankles, the feeling of cool air against the sensitive skin made him sigh in content. He had no idea exactly how long he had been tied down here, but judging by the shiny band of sweat where the straps had been holding him down it had been long, long time. Which wasn't surprising, he thought, recalling the reason he had been put here to recover.
"That's better, no?" She bent the table upwards using a previously unforseen hinge so that it rested like a chair, allowing Dot to sit upright. She folded his lengthly hands behind his back and strapped him to the table-chair with a long strap that went around his midriff this time.
Now holding a conical flask full of a syrupy purple liquid, she tilted his head back and poured the sweet beverage down his throat. "Tastes good, doesn't it? We can't have you dying on us now can we?"
She liked to ask him questions, although she knew he would never answer.
The drink was delicious, a thick purple concoction consisting of all the vital vitamins in Dot's diet, along with some extra drugs to provide him with a little energy.
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Dot was beginning to feel the affects of it already, he was finally able to open his eyes fully and hold his own head up without any of her assistance.
She had told him her name before, but he didn't care to remember. He referred to her only as 'the Doctor'.
The Doctor reapplied the straps around Dot's ankles once he was adjusted on the table-chair before checking he was secure and wheeling him out of the room, taking the infernal heart monitor with them.
The beverage he had drunk earlier had somewhat placated his throbbing forehead, turning the pain from being almost blinding to merely irritating. It had also soothed the aches and pains in his joints, making his entire body feel a lot more comfortable and relaxed.
There was not much to see on the journey back from the infirmary to where he was kept, just an endless mass of white corridors and doors with no windows. He attempted to look up at the woman who was pushing him, but only succeeded in reigniting the firey pain from the stitches in his neck.
His heartrate raised again as the wound split, headache fading completely as the blood drained from his head and he began to feel dizzy, no longer able to keep his own head up.
"Silly goose." The Doctor said, ceasing her pushing to tend to his injury. "You know you have to be still while you heal. Don't move now, I'll fix it up."
She drew a jagged needle and thread out from her front pocket, and Dot felt his stomach flip at the sight of the pointed object. He began to twist and turn in his place, desperate to escape before it dug into his skin.
"Stop that." She commanded, the earlier banter in her tone completely gone. She grabbed his head by the hair and held him still as she jabbed the needle into his neck.
Dot thrashed, his breathing and heartrate spiralling with each fresh poke of the needle. The Doctor was trying to make it hurt at much as she could, that much he knew, by pulling the thread through his flesh with cruel force. He could feel each fiber of it running through him, pulling at the nerves and making his mouth gape in a scream that just wouldn't come.
After a few more excruciating moments, she finished and tucked the needle back into her pocket, where it stained the front of it with a trail of bright red blood.
Dot sat in the chair, shaking as the too-tight stitches pulled at his skin, making each movement of his head feel as if the needle was still stuck in the middle of his flesh, stabbing him every time he turned or flinched.
The Doctor released his hair and he kept his head where she had left it, panting silently with his eyes staring widely at the bright ceiling.
"Good boy." Said the doctor, her cruel smile never quite leaving her face.
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