Legacy of the Defender (The Defender Series Book 1) (32 page)

XXIV

Misunderstood

Confinement was killing me. 

Three weeks had passed; although I do not know how accurate my count was.  I was in restraints, tied to my bed following my performance given after the ill-fated news.  They were gone, dead.  It was a sick irony.  This happened the very day my parents were set to arrive.  I was alone and did not know what to feel.  It felt like only a few days had passed since the accident.  I was experiencing sensory overload.  Everything had changed.  A small twinge of emotional pain let me know it was still there, locking me down.  The irony hit me again as my physical restraints seemed to match emotional restraints. 

I tried to look over the straps a few days before.  Thick leather encompassed my wrists and had some sort of locking mechanism on both sides.  There was no undoing them.  They immobilized my head...but it could turn slightly.  My feet had the same lack of motion.  Apparently they felt I was a threat.  My recollection of the rage was minimal, as though my very soul had disconnected from my memory of the event.

Every few hours someone came in with a bedpan for obvious reason.  My robe was more like a poncho.  It was clear they did not want to look at much of me either, except when they had to. 

At least they were feeding me real food.  Eryn came in three times a day to spoon-feed me.  It was not very good food but it was edible – your typical mystery meat with surprise.  She supplied and I ate.  The conversation took a turn, and she shared with me my actions had injured several orderlies.  Although I could not remember, the guilt was heavy.  Last thing recalled was the bed section breaking off in my grasp.  Eryn told me that even though unconscious, my actions continued to hurt many of the staff.  I felt shame. 

It did not make sense that I was such a threat, or that I did the things that Eryn recanted.  The strength part was about the only real aspect that I could quantify.  Adrenaline was something you heard stories about as a child.  Feats of strength that allowed a woman to roll a car off her baby or some craziness were always my favorite.  At least it had a good ending.  Apparently I was zero for two in the assault category now.  Security stood outside my room. 

Eryn’s presence became my sanity.  She kept it professional, though.  Her previous warmth was missing.  I tried to guard my feelings and emotions.  I was not scared while I was near her, but she saw right through it.  Not only was I worried about what was to come but also of how it felt when she was near me.  She was so beautiful and funny that the feeling of being almost normal started to become part of our interaction…aside from my being strapped to a bed.  Our conversations were light hearted.  She asked me about where I grew up and what my childhood had been like.  I did not have much to say, but her eyes spoke volumes.  She might have been looking for possible reasons for the rage. 

The truth was simple but unhappy.  I spoke of my desire to explore the countryside with my closest friend.  She had met Jason the other day when things went sideways.  He did not stay long.  They told him to go home.

Her visits that occurred several times a day as she made her rounds gave me something to look forward to since Jason left.  They barely let him in the first time he came to see me in restraints.  When the door opened the day of his arrival, one of the orderlies referred to me as a freak.  The comment stung.  All I could think about was ripping another bar off the bed and clubbing him with it.  The thought brought a smile to my face.  Jason seemed to be more upset about it than I was.  If he knew my thoughts, he might have been more worried.  He told the orderly it was inappropriate and must have given him some sort of stare that made him back off because I did not hear another word...only the door close. 

Jason came in and sat down on the only other piece of furniture in the room off to my right.  He moved the chair next to me.  We sat in silence, grim looks, and all.  He was very disturbed by the recent events.  I could tell he had not slept from the drifting look in his eyes.  Silence continued for quite a while.  Humor usually broke the tension in awkward situations.  This was definitely one of those moments.  Next I had to think of what to say.

“So what do you think of my new suit?"  I jested.  Silence hung in the room like a wet sweater.  I pressed my luck.  “I asked the doctor for a red one and threatened that if he did not give it to me, I'd use my own blood."  I knew the last part was over the top, but it worked; he sat upright and stared at me intensely.

“How can you joke around?" he began, "Your mother is dead and you have no place to go!  I even asked my father if you could stay with us.  He said no way.”

“In case you failed to notice I am getting fed and have a bed to sleep in.  I am the one in here, and if I can take it, you can take it.”

He was right; perhaps I was not taking the events seriously enough.  I was having a hard time focusing on anything.  All I wanted to do was sleep.  At least then I was in control.  Granted I found it very weird that the same dreams occurred every night...of being a mighty warrior fighting daemons.  Still experiencing bouts of fatigue, I fought to keep my eyes from closing.  It was harder than imagined.  Jason stood up and moved over to the bed.  Grabbing my shoulders he started to shake me, slowly at first, but the intensity built as his rage floodgates overflowed.  I opened my eyes and glared at him.

"Better!  You have a pulse now.  I am the one strapped to a bed.  You are free.  Snap out of it."  He let me go.  I could see the fire burning in his eyes as clearly as looking upon a burning field.  Emotions rolled off him in waves.  It was intoxicating.  Fear, anger, and adrenalin, all wrapped up inside him crying for release.

He breathed hard trying to rein it in.  For some reason, I wanted him to snap.  Something came from him.  It felt like pressure.  I could feel him...sense him.  This feeling rolled right into me.  After a small pause to ponder what this could be, the thought formed.  It was energy...flowing off him in waves.  The desire to jump out of the bed, atrophy and all, and fight him arose fast.  Next thing I knew I had torn free off my bonds with ease.  The material ripped and gave way.  Some of the leather tore and stitched seams ruptured.  My arms still had the straps wrapping around them, but my head and legs were completely free. 

Jason backed up until he was at the door.  He stared at me in horror.  A long pause ensued before he began to bang on the door.  I finished ripping the rest of the straps off and closed the distance with an effortless leap from the bed.  Within two strides, I was on him.  I grabbed his arms lifted him off the floor.  He called for help, which surprised me.  Drunk on his fear and leaning in close, a throaty growl escaped my lips. 

He froze.   

It still had not struck home yet that I had torn out of straps rated for someone four times my strength.  Jason did not know the meaning of coward.  He certainly did not run from a fight.  I was rather surprised that he had backed away from me.  Let alone asked for help.  The fact that I held him off the floor completely escaped me.

I looked at him eye to level for several seconds before I heard myself whisper “Sorry.”  Deep inside me, calm trickled over me.  The rage began to subside.  My arms suddenly weakened, so I lowered him, expecting to see his height difference.  It never came.  His feet were the floor so he
was
standing.  Over the top of his head, the picture on the wall was in full view.  My gaze looked down on him for the first time in my life.  Somehow I was taller.

A surprised look...one of fear...crossed Jason’s face.  His weight shifted as though he would attack me.  Then the door opened and a sea of orderlies covered me, all too eager to get some payback.  Onto the bed, I was tossed.  They added new restraints and replaced the old ones.  There was no fighting.  Something told me I would hurt them with further resistance.  With the inner rage on overload, the desire to rip arms out of their socket was overwhelming. 

To my surprise, I controlled it. 

They were none too gentle with the straps either.  It felt like a vice grip held me everywhere.  I just lay there fighting to control the rage boiling in the depths of my soul.  Once restrained, many fists struck my stomach followed by mutterings of "this is for so and so" or "That was for what you did to blah…blah…blah."  The words fell on deaf ears.

I knew that somehow I could kill all of them without breaking a sweat.  It was tantalizing.  Shamed followed the thoughts.  These men were scared, pure and simple.  Their job was to deal with people like me.  I did not intend to make their lives harder especially by hurting them.  It was curious, that after they had hit me, the pain went away rather fast.  A pinch in my arm told me the doctor had arrived.  It was the scary woman, but her touch was gentle.  I had managed a glance at her before they fixed my head in place.  Whatever they administered was stronger than before.  It blurred my vision fast but leveled off fast.

Strapped in once again...this was getting old. 

Someone told Jason to go home.  He was out in the hall cursing over what had just happened.  The thought of punching him in the face made me slightly happy.  He needed a wakeup call.  This had to give it to him.  It was not my desire to hurt him, but he acted like a spineless human with no opinion...incapable of making a decision.  He was not the one tied down; he did not lose his family, nor was he the one torn to ribbons by some unseen force.  Yet he crippled emotionally.

The drug rolled through my veins.  The sluggishness that accompanied was not as strong for hitting me so fast.  I tried to focus my mind to fight it.  I tried to find a focus point to begin my resistance when a voice spoke.

“Keep this up Dieter, and you are going to be permanent here.”  The shrink had arrived.  These people were too predictable.  It had been a few weeks since I had seen him
.
  One of the orderlies mentioned something about a trip, and then he was gone.  Apparently that was the case and he had returned.  He never did tell me where, but I can guess it had to do with science and my case.

“I hear you were a bad boy, Dieter.  Violence will not get you out of here.  Showing to me you can function in society will, however, help your case.” 

The door closed, trapping me with him.  Out of the corner of my eye, he passed by me to grab the chair.  It screeched horribly as it drug across the floor.  He set his stack of files on top of me while he fumbled for a pen.  I gave a small grunt.  He left them there while he began to scribble something down.  I could hear the scrawling of the pen.  He stunk of spent nicotine and coffee.

Did these people not get it that people who do not smoke do not want to smell the aftermath either?
  I thought.  But they never cared, none of them ever do.

“This rage you seem to be experiencing.  Tell me what you think about when it happens,” he said.

I laughed.

“This isn’t a joke, Dieter.  You have a serious issue here.  The fact that you tore out of the restraints shows a lack of willingness to cooperate as well as the desire to do others harm, not to mention you’re too damn strong for your own good.  Do you think we can afford to risk the lives of our employees?  Behavior like this could get you in much bigger trouble.  And you lack the will power to maintain your emotions.”

He had a point.  I sighed.

“I do not feel or hear anything.  There is no pain or anger.  Something just takes over.  Do you think I would give in to it if I could control it?  You know about my childhood.  It was calm and serene aside from an abusive stepfather that did not care if I lived or died, and a mother that chose him over her child.  There may or may not be anger issues over it, but that has been dealt with in whatever way possible as a young adult.  Jason was part of that sanity.  He was my only and best friend.  Is there rage stemming from that?  Is it my body’s way of dealing with this nightmare?  You tell me!"

His eyes got big.  He indeed knew about what had happened to me, but I think he just connected the dots in his head and the gears began turning in his mind.  My interest in this meeting had waned an hour earlier, and I hoped sleep would take me with my eyes open.  He droned on about my self-control.  I proclaimed to not know why the reactions happened the way they did.  My suspicions existed; none of the made sense. 

The more I tried to relax and listen, the angrier things made me.  None of this was my fault.  They found me guilty like a criminal.  Restraining me was a bad idea...they were threatening to throw away the key.  

Respect kept me silent.  Now was not the time.  I had to play their game to be able to leave, but to where?  With no place to retreat to my options were null.  I knew that the state would take my parents’ house to pay their bills.  It happened when my grandparents died; very little remained.  It was really quite sad. 

My mind snapped back to the present.  He continued speaking about working through feelings of anger.  I finally closed my eyes and gave into the drugs.  It felt funny that he shot me up then talked me to sleep.  It worked.  My reality shifted into dreamland almost immediately. 

A fight.

A claw came right at my head as I ducked and thrust my weapon to meet its exposed rib cage, and a shower of ichor rewarded me.  Somehow I knew that sleep had just taken me and glanced behind instinctively.  It looked as though a portal to the previous room had closed.  Yanking my sword free, I looked passed the beast as he slid free of my blade in a heap and fell the ground.  It was a valley filled with rocks and corpses.  Light flickered as if something passed in front of it repeatedly.  I shielded my eyes for a moment and saw a whole host in flight heading right towards me.