Awareness flickered in and out like pinpricks of light through a torn window curtain. Voices, footsteps, the clank of metal, the medicinal smell that permeated his dreams—these small, mundane sounds woke Drake from his unconscious visions and pulled him from the blue-eyed girl in his mind.
The thump of his heart seemed abnormally loud, and for a moment he wondered if he had died and gone to some limbo place where grey souls lived. But no, not dead—the sound belonged to a monitor attached to him, broadcasting the rhythmic beat of his heart to the world.
He focused on keeping the sound steady as he opened his eyes to take in his surroundings. The unremarkable hospital room gave him no sense of place or time.
A tickle itched his nose and he moved his arm to scratch it, only to find that he couldn't move. His limbs had been restrained to the hospital bed: two thick straps across his legs, a strap across his chest and a strap to tie down each wrist.
An I.V. dripped a viscous yellow solution into his veins and created a mild burn that ran up his arm and through his body. The door to his room was closed, so he focused his powers to surge through his muscles and free him from his prison.
Pain flashed through him like fire in his blood, and his strength abandoned him.
He lay on the bed panting, wrung out and useless. He fought, pulled, flexed, and lifted himself in an effort to overcome the effects of the drug, to no avail. His efforts won him not freedom, but rather several burns and cuts into his skin. They would heal soon enough, if the drug didn't inhibit that part of him as well.
Defeated, he relaxed into the bed and wondered how he'd let himself get caught. He should have listened to Father Patrick and Brad. He should've known he'd never be allowed to live his dreams.
These thoughts fanned the fires of his rage, but that fire had no will, no power to grow. Exhausted, Drake slept... and dreamt.
***
He sits on the bed, as still as a mouse—as still as a dead mouse, his new daddy would say. Dead mice can't move. Dead boys can't move either, so Drake doesn't move a single muscle. He doesn't want to be a dead boy.
New Daddy will be home soon. New Mommy locks herself in her room with the bottles that smell funny. She won't come out again, Drake knows. She won't help him, not like his real mommy who smelled like roses and laughed a lot, except that last night.
Real Mommy and Daddy gave lots of hugs and cuddles and let him eat ice cream on special days. They loved Drake, but they weren't strong like him, and when the car made the awful crunching sounds, and their blood got all over him, he watched as the light in their eyes faded to nothing.
They died and left him.
Now he will die if he isn't very careful. So Drake sits still and he waits.
When the front door crashes open, he inhales sharply, but doesn't make a peep. Not one. If he lies down or tries to hide, New Daddy will be even madder.
New Daddy starts shouting in the living room and throwing things against the wall. Soon, New Daddy will come to Drake's room. Soon, it will be Drake's turn.
Still, he waits.
His bedroom door flies open and New Daddy stands there, big and mean and scary and smelling like those bottles and cigarettes. "You've been a bad boy, son. It's time to take your punishment."
Drake squeezes his eyes shut and stays very quiet.
When the blows come, he doesn't make a sound.
When the fist lands on his face and the pain explodes in his head, he still doesn't move.
When it's over, he's allowed to lie down, finally.
New Daddy leaves and closes the door.
Drake cries silently into his pillow.
New Daddy knows Drake is strong, stronger than other four-year-olds. New Daddy knows Drake will heal.
And Drake knows New Daddy will be back.
Someday, Drake will be ready for New Daddy.
***
The wild beating of Drake's heart woke him with a jolt, sweat beading his forehead. He couldn't control the thrump-thrump-thrump as his heartbeat accelerated in panic.
A nurse rushed in, needle in hand as if brandishing a weapon. Her eyes widened in surprise and fear. "You're awake. You shouldn't be."
He ignored the stupidity of her comment. "Where am I? Why have you kidnapped and imprisoned me?"
She frowned in confusion. "We didn't kidnap you, we saved you."
He sneers at her. "From what? A surfing victory? Thanks so much for that."
She shuffled away from him, though she hadn't come close enough for him to reach her. "The doctor will be here any minute. He'll explain everything. But you're lucky we found you in time. You could have died."
She looked at the needle in her hand, then capped and pocketed it and left as quickly as she had come.
Guess she didn't want to get too close.
Drake counted the tiles on the browning ceiling as he waited for the doctor, though he doubted he'd get an honest answer from anyone here.
A moment later, a tall man with bushy eyebrows walked in. "I'm Dr. Pana, your treating physician. The nurse tells me you think we kidnapped you."
The doctor's smooth-as-glass voice wrapped itself around Drake like velvet. His will weakened, for just a moment, and the good doctor almost cracked Drake's defenses and wormed his way in. Almost.
"I was drugged, knocked out, and strapped down against my will. What would you call it?"
A caterpillar eyebrow shot up in surprise, the only evidence that the doctor had underestimated Drake's ability to resist him. "A new organization is bent on destroying anyone with unique gifts such as yours. They targeted you and would have killed you had we not intervened in time. We're keeping you here for your own safety, and, given the nature of your gifts and some of your past deeds, we found it necessary to restrain you for the staff's safety. We have to make sure you are stable and safe, Mr. Davis, before we can release you."
"Where am I?"
"You're being cared for in an undisclosed private facility where anyone intending you harm cannot track you. Now I suggest you take advantage of this time to rest and heal."
Dr. Pana pressed the nurse's buzzer. "Please bring the patient's medicine."
When the nurse returned, she shook as if scared, but Drake didn't think he was the cause. She cast furtive glances at Dr. Pana as she reached over with a needle and inserted the syringe into his I.V. "Rest now."
Euphoria flooded Drake's system and erased all thoughts of escape and all feelings of fear.
Dr. Pana smiled, and a gold tooth glinted in the fluorescent lights. "See you soon, Mr. Davis."
