time were now full to the brim with State detainees, who had become nothing more than test subjects for The Facility. Peter shared his ward with four other patients, their only possessions being the beds they were given and the red jump suits they wore.
Patients in The Facility were divided into three categories. Would’s and Could’s who were being rehabilitated were assigned to the White Ward. This was where patients who were complying with The Treatment were kept; they were responding to the Treatment positively, and the State used them as poster children for the cause.
The Red Ward included patients who had negative reactions to the Treatment. Side effects were common with the Treatment, but there were some patients who displayed all of these at once. Facility doctors, who wanted to study the long-term effects of being exposed to the Treatment and the side effects thereof, used them as test subjects.
Finally, the Black Ward housed inmates who were beyond being affected by the Treatment. Patients who were violent and resistant to being treated were kept from the general population within the Facility. These inmates were considered to be society’s murderers by the State, and they used them as examples throughout the Regions to strike fear into the citizens. These inmates were wild, broken shells of the people they once were; their will and strength destroyed by the Treatment. Black Ward inmates were isolated in the bowels of the Facility, away from curious eyes.
Peter Ronin was experiencing all of the side effects the Treatment had to offer. He and Shannon were part of the Red Ward. Peter looked at Shannon with despair; he had been riddled with guilt since he was transported to the Facility. His putrid surroundings reminded him further that he was responsible for the exile of so many innocent people. The harsh realities of the Facility had finally opened his eyes to the police state society that he was merely a pawn in, but he wasn’t ready to let anyone else know yet.
“How long was I out this time?” Peter asked between sips of water.
“Not long,” Shannon said, “they only kept you for a day this time.”
Peter took a deep breath in, he couldn’t remember what they had done to him this time and he didn’t want to try either. He knew that his head was pounding again, but he was so accustomed to having headaches since they started the Treatment on him that it made no difference anymore. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes; his ashen face matched the walls behind him. The Treatment was draining the lifeblood out of him, and he was powerless to stop it.
“At least I made it out alive, right?” He forced a little humor into their conversation. Shannon was still wiping sweat from his brow as he took slow sips of discolored water from a plastic cup. That was all they left you with after a Treatment, a jug of discolored water and stale bread. Peter felt too nauseous to put anything solid into his stomach just yet. He was just thankful that he would have a week to recover before his next treatment.
“Have they taken you in yet?” He asked Shannon, who just nodded sadly in response. Using the energy that he had left, Peter reached for her hand while watching her sad eyes well up with tears. “I’m so very sorry for what I have done, Shannon.”
Peter had apologized to Shannon Wright every day since he had been sent to the Facility, and he planned on apologizing for his terrible deeds for the rest of his life.
***
Golden rays of sunlight washed over Evelyn as she sat silently, watching children playing in the nearby playground. A serene calm surrounded the clandestine Matriarch of the Foresworn. Her daydreams were interrupted by a warm kiss on the cheek by Calvin as he joined her on the park bench. There was no doubt that they were mother and son, Evelyn thought while studying her jovial child.
Patients in The Facility were divided into three categories. Would’s and Could’s who were being rehabilitated were assigned to the White Ward. This was where patients who were complying with The Treatment were kept; they were responding to the Treatment positively, and the State used them as poster children for the cause.
The Red Ward included patients who had negative reactions to the Treatment. Side effects were common with the Treatment, but there were some patients who displayed all of these at once. Facility doctors, who wanted to study the long-term effects of being exposed to the Treatment and the side effects thereof, used them as test subjects.
Finally, the Black Ward housed inmates who were beyond being affected by the Treatment. Patients who were violent and resistant to being treated were kept from the general population within the Facility. These inmates were considered to be society’s murderers by the State, and they used them as examples throughout the Regions to strike fear into the citizens. These inmates were wild, broken shells of the people they once were; their will and strength destroyed by the Treatment. Black Ward inmates were isolated in the bowels of the Facility, away from curious eyes.
Peter Ronin was experiencing all of the side effects the Treatment had to offer. He and Shannon were part of the Red Ward. Peter looked at Shannon with despair; he had been riddled with guilt since he was transported to the Facility. His putrid surroundings reminded him further that he was responsible for the exile of so many innocent people. The harsh realities of the Facility had finally opened his eyes to the police state society that he was merely a pawn in, but he wasn’t ready to let anyone else know yet.
“How long was I out this time?” Peter asked between sips of water.
“Not long,” Shannon said, “they only kept you for a day this time.”
Peter took a deep breath in, he couldn’t remember what they had done to him this time and he didn’t want to try either. He knew that his head was pounding again, but he was so accustomed to having headaches since they started the Treatment on him that it made no difference anymore. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes; his ashen face matched the walls behind him. The Treatment was draining the lifeblood out of him, and he was powerless to stop it.
“At least I made it out alive, right?” He forced a little humor into their conversation. Shannon was still wiping sweat from his brow as he took slow sips of discolored water from a plastic cup. That was all they left you with after a Treatment, a jug of discolored water and stale bread. Peter felt too nauseous to put anything solid into his stomach just yet. He was just thankful that he would have a week to recover before his next treatment.
“Have they taken you in yet?” He asked Shannon, who just nodded sadly in response. Using the energy that he had left, Peter reached for her hand while watching her sad eyes well up with tears. “I’m so very sorry for what I have done, Shannon.”
Peter had apologized to Shannon Wright every day since he had been sent to the Facility, and he planned on apologizing for his terrible deeds for the rest of his life.
***
Golden rays of sunlight washed over Evelyn as she sat silently, watching children playing in the nearby playground. A serene calm surrounded the clandestine Matriarch of the Foresworn. Her daydreams were interrupted by a warm kiss on the cheek by Calvin as he joined her on the park bench. There was no doubt that they were mother and son, Evelyn thought while studying her jovial child.
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