Allelujah's fingers twitched, and he wanted nothing more than to grab the doctor by the collar, by the throat, and shake him until he saw the truth about this place. He was blind, so blind to be able to overlook what was going on here. How could people be so stupid? "I don't get sick," he hissed. "I'm twenty, years old, I think, and I have never once been ill. Getting sick once is too much."

He leaned back against the couch, stubbornly looking away from the doctor, lips pressed into a hard line. "If I'm sick, then I'm useless. If I'm sick then I can't fight and I don't have a purpose if I can't fight."