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Later that night, Huit laid in his bed and stared at the ceiling. Sines, cosines, and Euler’s formulas danced in his mind as he reasoned out the relationships that the formulas shared with one another, and his nerves calmed from the stressful experiences that he had endured earlier that day. As crazy as it sounds, this was not an abnormal day for him nor for any of the other patients that resided in the facility. He wondered if he was the only one who could deeply reflect on the challenges of depending on others for his every need, and he surmised that he was not the only person in the building who did so. There must be others that were anxious with their place in life. Even Urina. She had not meant for him to have an accident in the parking lot. No, she certainly had not. She was lazy, and the unintended event had caused her more effort in her workday, so he knew that the accident had not been her intention. Urina would have been content to ride around all day with him in the backseat, cruising the city and singing with the radio. It would have saved her from cleaning a toilet or changing a bed pan or any of her many other daily duties. Same pay, easier way to pass the time.
Still, the bruises that covered Huit’s ribs and legs throbbed, and he was having difficulty going to sleep. The whistling that filled the hall let him know that Scoot was on the job again, and he would at least have some entertainment to keep him busy that night. The security guard strolled by the outside of Huit’s room and stopped whistling. He read the number on the door, and then he looked into the room from the dimly lit hallway where he spied Huit on the bed. He looked at the room number again as if he were mentally checking it off in his mind, and he walked away from the door on his rounds. No whistling, just footsteps and the sound of a key check. Huit could hear the door at the end of the hallway open and close as Scoot passed through. A few minutes later, the hinges of the door at the end of the hall squeaked open and closed, and the intermittent scuffling of someone walking on the balls of their feet echoed as the person paced down the hallway toward Huit’s room. A dark hooded figure entered his room and closed the door behind him. Huit tried to cry out, but his words were too slow as the hand went across his mouth and the chemical odor overcame his breath. That was all he could remember.
Uncanny Tales of Crush and Pound Annual 3 Page 3
