Summary:This is a failure to thrive. This whole ward was full of others like him. Broken in body and twisted in mind.

Lucid Interval

All John knew was that she had tried so, so hard to have him and she was nowhere in sight. He didn't really know if he wanted her here, but maybe he was asking too much. John would always be indebted to her, no matter how well he did the photos for her third honeymoon, because how can you pay back the person-

-whole room gave him a headache. The ceiling was like the underside of someone's pimply chin with all the bumps and bulges. The shade of peach they'd picked was too close to human skin for comfort.

John felt like he was inside someone. In this room. What if he took one of the needles dug under his skin and dragged it across the ceiling. Would someone, somewhere be screaming? Would it come from the wall in pulses, making his already scattered thoughts-

-will he stop with this gabble-dee-guk?" Mamma was actually here. In this pimply peach hell. But what was she talking about? He wasn't babbling. John knew he had asked for water several times, but chalked up the lack of H20 to an incompetent or deaf nurse.

He didn't think he was being ignored and mocked.

"Bears. Bears!" His voice rose in a sharp crescendo that ended as soon as it began. John's clipped shout silenced his mother-

That stuff about regretting angry last words with someone? Complete bullshit. John knew it. Being dead didn't take back actions or hurts or pain. It just meant that person couldn't hurt any more. A miracle, as far as he was concerned.

-was funny. In a way, he was exactly like the people he hated. Absolutely despised. He knew there was a connection between them like he knew his mother was probably seducing one of his teachers or nurses-

John struggled to sit upright, but remained hunched over the paper. His efforts never made it past his mind. The key, the liberator, the one was here. He couldn't stay still, trapped by his useless body! They promised an escape from this sour sore if he could pass on one…simple…message…

His hand began to scribble frantically, with dexterity that had been destroyed over a month ago. John didn't have to focus on the action, he wasn't even doing the writing. He just had to pass on a message, that was all. Lucidity came to him as looked at him. Insanity crashed down as…as something was gone-

-who brought you into the world-twist and knot-when will he-the memories-



His ears finally stopped ringing.