Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the character of Willard. This fan fiction story is for entertainment only.

Note To Readers: I am aware of any minor grammatical errors in which you may see.


Willard's Evasion of His Confinement

"Chapter One - Dreams & Needles"

Willard lay there, still. Socrates burrowed down his sleeve. This is the second week of his constrainment. Never speaking. Never eating. Never moving when others are around. He lay there curled on his decrepit old hospital bed staring in a reverie at the wall. He dreamed of a world which excludes people and all their cruel ways. A world where he is free with only himself and Socrates. He hated everyone. Everyone but Socrates. He didn't need them. They took everything from him. He knew Socrates would come back to him. They will never find out. He will never let harm come to Socrates ever again. This dream of world excluding all people keeps him going but what continues his depression is the fact that his dreams are only a fools paradise. Never to come true. He is still alone with only one hope of escape. Socrates.

The door which keeps him imprisoned from the outside hall squeaked and a woman walked inside. "It's time to change your bandages Mr. Stiles," a female nurse with brown hair and crooked teeth told Willard. He ignored her and continued to delve deeper into his reverie, staring at the wall. The closer the nurse came to him the closer he curled his body into a ball. With his knees held to his chest he continued his silence.

Unwilling to cooperate with the nurse Willard stayed still with his back turned towards her. She rolled his dark blue uniform shirt up his back. This action reveals large black and blue bruises and hundreds of unhealed scratches. Two weeks he's been in physical pain with his scars and bruises, never showing any sign of healing. Willard, uncaring about his physical health, continued delving into his illusion. "Why aren't these healing?" the nurse tells herself while removing the old and worn bandages from his back and replacing them with fresh ones. Having finished replacing Willard's bandages the nurse softly rolled his shirt back down. "Poor guy," the nurse whispered to herself as she picked up the old bandages and walks out the door locking it behind her.

He lay there for hours on his bed still curled in his little comforting ball with Socrates burrowed up his sleeve. Willard was waiting. Waiting for someone else to enter the room and bother him once more. None came. Knowing there be nothing and no one to hinder him in his reverie he slowly uncurled himself and sat upon his bed. He whispered, "Socrates." and a little white rat with pink ears and red eyes crawled out from his sleeve into his hands. The next few hours he sat there holding Socrates in his hands staring at the wall that stood in front of him continuing his reverie with a delirious smile upon his face.

His smile faded once the cell door opened. Socrates crawled back up Willard's sleeve. It was his doctor. He didn't know her name for he refused to listen to the words that any person spoke to him. Willard stayed still once more. Never moving his eyes from the wall which helped him in staying locked in his dream. "It's time we try something," she says allowed while rolling a tray which carried needles filled with green solution into the room. Unconcerned with what was about to occur, as long as he was still able to be left alone to continue in his fools paradise, Willard sat there. The doctor pulled out a small light and shown it in Willard's eyes. "Your still not there," the doctor told herself.

Willard doesn't flinch. The doctor pulled the tray holding the needles closer to the bed. "This won't hurt a bit," the doctor tells Willard despite the fact he will not answer. She began to roll his sleeve up but notices something moving about. The doctor jumped and Socrates runs out from inside his sleeve and under the hospital bed. Willard grabbed the doctor's arm, which was holding the needle containing the green liquid, and attempted to keep her from stabbing his arm. Lethargic from lack of nutriment, he failed his attempt and the doctor now had his arm locked down with hers. Having possessed control of him, the doctor succeeded in puncturing his veins and releasing the green liquid into his blood stream. The doctor stood back and watched as Willard's eyes began to close and his body fell sideways upon his bed. She walked towards him and grabbed his legs laying him fully onto the bed. "See you in the morning Mr. Stiles," she told his unconcious self.

Socrates ran out from his hiding place under Willard's bed out the cell door. "We need to get some mouse traps!" the doctor yelled as she closed the thick metal door locking him in the cell once more. He was unconscious and alone with not even Socrates to greet him when he awakes.