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Chapter 11: A Bad Thing
Rick
I did a bad thing. Breaking training is just not me. If you knew me and everything it has taken me to get to this point, you would know I do not break protocol. I was raised in a strict household—eldest of five brothers. Always the one in trouble. I always had the toughest of rules, and I grew used to it all, which was why military life and later the black build of the government field worked for me. Rules. Do as you're told. Hurry up, and then wait. Face forward and do not look around, up or down. Never ask questions.
The senior leadership is always right. So why did I do this evil thing? Moreover, why did I continue?! I couldn't tell you. Intuition. Something beyond me guiding me to do so if you believe in that sort of crap. Inmate 2541, I just had to keep looking at her profile sheets for daily information. I don't even know how she looks, not that it matters; I mean, pictures are not provided in our schedule information sheets. My page is brief. It's a cleaning schedule. One I do not even need to read anymore. It is always the same. So I always move past it. Today when I do, I go to the medics page, which lists the increased dosage of that strange medication. I'll confess to you the wrong thing I did was I looked up what the drug does.
Apomorphine is used mainly to treat Parkinson's and when utilized in someone who does not have Parkinson's, which 2541 does not, as indicated by her medical chart. The drug can cause hallucinations, confusion, depression, weakness, sudden or uncontrollable movements, and worse. It is as though they wish to keep her immobile, bedridden, but what I've come to realize is that they want her to forget. But forget what? It must be some serious shit to put her at risk of death with this crazy-ass medication.
My training tells me to shut the hell up, move on, mind my own damn business, and get paid. She probably deserves it. I mean, what would you do? I consider all these things; they race through my mind like a speed-racing car on the race track practicing alone. All the while, I am replacing the sheets in her room. 2541, it seems odd to call her 2541 now that I've come to know more about her. But I do not know her name. I'd like to. I'd like to hear her side of the story. Maybe I can help get things cleared up. Perhaps the medication is a mix-up. So I will do another bad thing. I have it prepared earlier, not know if I would have the courage to do it. But I have it now. And so as I replace the pillowcase. I lay a small note under the pillow in a way no camera would ever catch. I hope she finds it and destroys it before anyone sees it. If not, they will change the entire staff.
I wake up the next day with a significant headache. When I say major, I do mean I feel like my eyeballs will pop out of my damn head. Yesterday feels hazy. I remember some bits and pieces. I went to work, I recall checking my chart, did my work for the day, sometimes read about inmate 2541 and new medication, and that's about it. But for some reason, I have this odd feeling. Like something is off upstairs. Maybe I should see a doc about it. The ol' brain perhaps isn't what it used to be these days.
LenySoulcalibur We come back to Rick, a black building guard who is in charge of cleaning Harpers room
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