Part 18

The smell was unmistakable he was back. He lay perfectly still staring up at the same ceiling he was staring at not more than a day ago. The same tight straps held his wrists and ankles immobile, the same silver buckles gleamed mockingly on his chest and across his thighs. The same door, closed now, but he knew any minute it would open and the terrible treatment would begin again. If he was good, if he didn’t fight, cry or beg maybe they wouldn’t shock him again. He trembled as sounds of people going about their daily business seeped into the room. He held his breath as someone stopped outside his door then moved away again.

“I’m Jason Scott, I’m Jason Scott.” He repeated the phrase over and over. They were trying to trick him, make him admit that he knew who JC was, but he wasn’t going to let them.

He jumped as the door opened. Keeping his eyes fixed on a small black mark above him he tried not to shake as the nurse checked his vitals. She smiled gently at him. “Can I get you a drink?”

JC nodded.

The nurse was pretty, thick red hair tied back with a cream clip. She lifted a beaker of water from the low locker and held the straw to his lips. He drank a few sips then released it. She brushed his hair from his eyes, “do you need to relieve yourself?”

“JC shook his head no. He did but he wasn’t going to let her help him, he could wait. The door opened again and a doctor of Asian origin came in closely followed by a middle-aged couple.

The woman clasped his hand bringing her lips to his fingers as tears started to fall down her face. The man looked grey and gaunt as if he hadn’t slept in days.

“Oh Josh, my baby, what happened to you?” The woman was slobbering all over his hand now he wanted to pull it away but the restraints wouldn’t let him.

The gaunt looking man seized up his other hand. “Tyler and Heather send their love. They wanted to come but we thought it best that they didn’t, we didn’t know what to expect. Aren’t you going to say anything Josh?”

JC looked back and forth between the couple. “Who are you?” he asked.

Karen Chasez broke down completely as her eldest son stared at her like she was a stranger. Roy gripped her shoulder as a show of support but his eyes couldn’t hide the dismay he was feeling. “Son, don’t you know us? It’s mom and dad. Karen drew a finger down the side of JC’s confused face. He pulled away.

“Please don’t touch me,” he muttered.

“Joshua, you are upsetting your mom, please son try to think.” Roy leaned close to the restrained young man. “Why would I lie to you Josh.” He moved back not wanting to intimidate his son. “Your friends are here. They want to see you. Do you want to see them?”

“David never let me have friends, he said I didn’t need them that I had him and that was enough.” JC tilted his head looking at the woman crying into his hand. “I know you … your face.”

Karen looked up “Oh Josh honey, what have they done to you? What have they done to my baby?” She turned to the doctor who was standing over in the corner observing. “Does he have to be tied down like this?”

The dark skinned man spoke with a heavy Pakistani accent. “I am afraid so Mrs Chasez. It is for his own safety. He has a tendency to get extremely agitated, it is either the straps or to keep him completely sedated.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here, I’m not mad you know. I’m not … I’m not.” JC trailed off muttering under his breath that he wasn’t mad. His big wide blue eyes glazing over slightly as he struggled with the inner demons that were tormenting him. There was a time when he knew who he was, he was pretty sure he knew once. His head hurt, his head hurt before when David made him have treatments. Why did he have to have treatments? He screwed up his eyes and wished he could rub his head. He had remembered something, what had he remembered? He was trying to get out of the house, David injected him. He needed to get to somewhere … someone. His eyes snapped open and his mouth trembled, he flicked his tongue over his dry lips flushing under the gaze of the couple claiming to be his parents.

“Sweetie? What’s wrong? What are you thinking?” His mother squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

“Who’s Justin?” he asked.