Hands grab. Fingers dig into my skin. Needle pierces. Screaming. Yelling. Kicking.

Everything spinning. Blurring. Fading.

I black out.

When I eventually open my eyes again, I find myself tied to a gurney that is being wheeled down a corridor.

Everything is a blur. Whoever is pushing me is going too fast. I feel sick.

The ceiling lights above me burn my eyes, too bright. Too bright.

Please turn them off.

I try to lift an arm. It's tied down. Fuck.

"Let me go," I croak, my throat try and sore from screaming earlier, "Please."

"Not until we get as much information out of you as we can." A far away voice chuckles.

They sound so far. Too far.

I want my dad. He'd be able to deal with this. My dad was my hero. There wasn't anything he couldn't do or handle.
Even when Craig first came out as gay to him in the middle of dinner after realising he was gay for the guy in Love, Simon, my dad didn't get mad.
He was confused at first, but he grew to accept it. He beat up people who bullied Craig. He raised money for an LGBT+ space in his school.

My dad would rescue me.

A tear slides down my cheek and the lights above me blur even more.

My dad's face pops into my mind. It's faded, not quite him. It's been so long since I've seen him that I've kind of forgotten what he looks like.

His face wriggles in my mind, adjusting. Was he blonde like mom? Did he have dark hair like Craig? Was he ginger like me? Yes. Ginger. It was a lovely colour, unlike mine.

Did he have a beard? No... yes... no, I'm not sure. A beard looks weird but he seems too hairless without it.

Another tear.

"Don't cry little one," A voice whispers. I recognise it. I recognise him, "Everything will be okay."

What was his name? The Chinese kid... anime obsessed. Deafened in a car explosion. Kevin?

"That's right," His face begins appearing before me, blurry, fuzzy, not quite right, "You're going to be fine. Just trust him."

"Trust who?" I try to reach out to stop Kevin from being left behind as I'm pushed further down this seemingly never-ending hallway but I'm stopped by my restraints, "Kevin, trust who?"

I fight to sit up, resisting being pushed down each time by my captors. I don't see Kevin anymore.

"Give her another dose of the sedative," Maphesto commands one of his assistants, "She's recovering."

All of a sudden, we stop and I'm slammed backwards onto the gurney again. A needle is shoved into my neck without warning.

"Fuck off!" I scream, "Fuck off, fuck off, FUCK OFF!"

"Jesus Christ, we've got a fighter," The assistant mutters, "She's going to be difficult. Should we send her in for that  treatment?"

There's a moment of silence among the assistants and Maphesto as they consider it.

"Could you do it?" Maphesto asks, "We don't have all of the correct supplies."

"And what if she doesn't have the immunity?" Another assistant asks, genuine concern lacing her voice, "She'd die as soon as she made contact. We'd have to peel her off the walls like the other subjects."

My stomach twists.

"Just look at her," Maphesto directs their attention back to me and a look of disgust covers his face, "She wouldn't stand a chance. There's no way."

"You're right. She's too weak." The concerned woman nods.

"Even so, wouldn't it benefit us to see how such a small subject reacts to the dosage? What if we get some different results," The original assistant points out, "What if it works? Our dosage might be too small, perfect for her!"

That seems to change everyone's mind.

A smirk pulls at the corners of Maphesto's crusty mouth and his eyes slide over to me, looking my helpless body up and down.

"She's perfect. Send her in."