"Lilou."
"Is that your real name?"
"Yeah? You don't like it or what?"
"Not at all, I think it's beautiful — really," a cramp suddenly caught my right calf out of nervousness, but I tried to push the pain deep down so she wouldn't notice. "I don't know if it's the right question, but… what are you doing here?"
The name Lilou echoed in my head along with the question I'd asked. Maybe she, like me, doesn't know why she ended up here. What if we're the same kind of people, from the same planet, sharing the same difficult experiences? Not talking about genes, of course — I know I'm an only child.
"I almost overdosed," she said, and the smile returned to her face with surprising speed.
"Oh… I'm so sorry," I said awkwardly. I didn't know how to react — it was the first time I'd met someone who had almost overdosed. It was completely beyond my understanding, and I was just glad it hadn't happened to me.
"Don't worry, I'm better now," she took my hand. "And you?"
"Me?"
"I'm not talking to anyone else — what are you doing here?"
"Erm… for peace of mind?" It didn't sound very convincing. Lilou looked me up and down. I stepped back a little to create some space between us, just in case something weird happened. Damn, why am I treating her like some kind of lunatic? I shouldn't judge people like that.
"I think I've seen you somewhere," she changed the topic — an interesting one, since I couldn't remember ever seeing her before. She must've mistaken me for someone else.
"Where? When…?"
A few patients passed by with doctors in white coats. I thought no one wore those anymore.
I had to wait a while for her answer; she froze for a moment when another doctor passed by — he looked rather strict, the kind of man you can't really talk to calmly without risking trouble.
"You're from Willow Hollow, right?" she sniffled after a moment.
"Do you want a tissue?" I asked politely. I pulled one from my pocket — the last one I had — and handed it to her. "And yeah, I'm from there. How did you know? Do you live there too?"
"I work at the cinema. I don't know if you go there, but I think I remember seeing you once at a screening. You like those old, black-and-white films, right?" She sniffled again.
"I think I went once," I wasn't entirely sure; at the moment I couldn't recall. "And how do you like it here?"
"I'm here every two weeks for a full week. It seems fine when I'm working, but when my shift ends it feels really unsafe — especially when I go back by bus that late."
"Every two weeks?"
"My dad lives there. Mom makes me get used to him and his family. The only thing I like there is the park."
"You mean the one full of homeless people?"
"Yeah, I've had a few unpleasant encounters, but they actually seem pretty decent."
"I hope nothing… something serious happened."
She turned her head.
"The session's about to start, we should go," she said, taking my hand. "The first time can be rough, but once you get used to it, it gets easier."
***
"Do it to me," my quiet voice rang in their ears. They all turned to me.
"How generous of you," James stared straight at me.
I pushed up onto my elbow, trying to stand. I got one knee up, gasping for air. The other leg wasn't as bad.
"Mike, you don't have to beg," Malachai rushed over to me. He grabbed my neck, cutting off my breath. "If that's what you want." Malachai handed the contents of the bag toward Joshua. 'Hurry up.'"
He had been holding me by the neck for ten minutes already. Goosebumps spread across my legs as cold air rushed in through the wide-open window, and I prayed in my head that someone would accidentally show up and rescue me and Jeremy.
"How's it going?" Malachai spat on the floor.
"Almost ready," Joshua replied.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked. With his strong grip it was hard to breathe, and a faint moan escaped me. But it was useless. Again, I lost whatever breath I had left, and I started regretting why I had even spoken. Malachai tilted his head up and down, looking tired of the question, as if he knew the answer but couldn't bring himself to say it out loud.
"Why not?" he shuddered.
Joshua shouted something I couldn't understand. Breathing heavily, he got up from the floor and approached Malachai with a syringe.
"You know how to use this?" he asked in a low voice.
"Maybe… you do it," Malachai answered uncertainly. Joshua looked at me. He touched my neck and straightened me toward him. I didn't struggle — I didn't even think of it.
"Did you drink water today?" he asked. The question threw me off, so absurd that I thought I misheard.
"Not much."
He stepped back a few paces, turned, and reached for a bottle of water lying on the floor.
"What's going on?" James sniffled after a moment.
"I don't see veins on his arm…"
"What do you mean you don't see?" James cut him off.
"I mean they're not as visible as ours, so…"
"Can that be fixed?"
"That's what I'm saying — if you'd stop interrupting me every damn second!" he yelled. I hadn't seen him angry in a long time, and I had never seen him yell at James before. That was new. James gestured with his fingers for him to continue.
"Go on," he added.
"When you don't drink enough water, the body gets a bit dehydrated and the veins aren't pumped up. They look like they're hiding under the skin. When you're properly hydrated, blood flows better and the veins show more," Joshua turned to me and tossed me the water bottle.
"How long until the veins show?" Malachai tapped my collarbone with his fingertips. He used to do that when we were about fourteen, but stopped after rumors spread he might be gay because he stood too close to me — from then until now he'd never touched my collarbone again. "Drink."
I unscrewed the cap, took the first sip. The water was cold, refreshing, and cooled my teeth, while my throat no longer felt dry.
"He needs more," Joshua ordered. So I did as told, holding the bottle against my mouth and taking three more sips. Malachai cursed under his breath, grabbed my hand with his free one, and shoved the bottle hard against my teeth.
"Drink. Hurry up."
Before I knew it, the entire bottle was gone in the blink of an eye, and Malachai threw it into a corner. "I think we're ready," he said.
***
They did it. They injected the substance into me and threw me onto the bed. They'd spilled out more than they were supposed to — the dose was too strong and I vomited immediately on the floor. Now I was lying on my back for… I don't even know how long. I felt different. I didn't know whether I liked it or not, only that it was a sensation I had never experienced before.
"It hit him hard," someone said.
"Maybe too hard," another voice added.
"So what do we do with him?" a third voice joined in.
I tried lifting my head, but it was splitting open with pain, and another surge of vomit rose in my throat. I barely held it back at the last moment before a complete disaster.
"What?" I muttered to myself, unable to control it.
"He's saying something."
The voices grew clearer, sharper. I turned my head toward their chairs. Sitting there were only Jeremy and Joshua. Three people were missing. As I wondered where they had gone, my eyes darted quickly to the bed where I lay — and there, resting on it, was a hand.
"Who's that…?"