damned_institute | Nightshift 49: Disciplinary Therapy Room 2 [M-U for Ema Skye]

The last thing Ema remembered was Agatha trying to raise hell as the nurses sedated her and removed her from the room. She had struggled a little, squirming and asking questions about why she was being taken, but didn't receive any answers outside of 'didn't you listen to the broadcast.' Whatever these "sleep studies" were, she'd been chosen to participate. Unfortunately for Ema's odds, she wasn't all that physically strong and was therefore incapable of actually breaking away from the tight grip that the nurses had on her as some fluid was injected into her arm, and once the sedative hit her system that was all she wrote. Agatha's still-angry protests faded into the background as blackness filled Ema's vision.

Now, some time later, Ema was starting to come back into consciousness. The environment, what little she could see of it, was entirely different. Or perhaps it was only the an effect of the vastly different lighting arrangement, the long, ominous shadows that stretched across the floor from some spotlighted light source. The fact that she was strapped to a table and her head restrained didn't help matters; as terrible as the rest of the institute was at night, the sinking feeling in Ema's stomach was a sign that this room was among the worst.

This did not seem like a routine sleep study. If anything, it was more like a nightmare... the very type of nightmare, Ema realized far too belatedly to be of any use, that Mr. Edgeworth and Mr. Javert had been investigating.

If Ema had been able, she would have turned her head toward the sound of movement on the other side of the room. "What... what are you going to do to me?!" Her voice cracked just a little as Ema tried to speak loudly enough to be heard by someone whom she was not facing. Unsurprisingly, panic was starting to set in.

Ah, she was awake. Good, very good. And it appeared she was fairly alert, despite just rousing from a drug-induced state. After all, Ema already seemed to know that she wasn't going to be quite the same girl as before by the time she left the room later tonight. But she would have plenty of time to thank him later. For now, it was time to get down to business.

"Now, now, Ema," he calmly spoke, taking on the tone that was almost reminiscent of a father trying to comfort his daughter. "There's no need to be frightened." Though she couldn't see it, a small smile graced his features as he picked up a pair of latex gloves and fit them over his hands. He let the bottom of one of his gloves give an audible snap! against his wrist before turning toward his tray of utensils.

"If it makes you feel any better, try to think of this as..." He paused as he lifted up one of the syringes, squeezing it just a little to make certain that it was functioning properly. "A scientific investigation of sorts. Doesn't that sound interesting?"

Ema...? After two days of being "Marie Franklin," someone calling her by her actual name was almost a relief; it was a reminder that this place was the insane one, not her. She might have even allowed herself to be further relieved by the tone of the doctor's voice if that awful snap! hadn't accompanied it. As things were, however, the only thing Ema could bring herself to actually feel was dread. She was in an operating room about to have who-knows-what done to her, and she was forced to stare at the floor so she couldn't even try to guess what was coming.

Ema hated not being able to see things clearly.

Of course, the doctor had to keep talking, and his next words stung far worse than the false comfort had. "Th-this isn't a scientific investigation at all!" she snapped, backed into a corner and reacting mostly on fear and instinct. It couldn't be; science wasn't supposed to be this terrible. "It's... it just isn't!!"

The doctor gave a low chuckle while setting the syringe back onto the gleaming tray, as if he found Ema's denial a source of amusement. How naive young people were! Or perhaps she just didn't want to face the truth? Either way, he would be amazed if she continued on with such nonsense throughout the entire night.

"Why, of course it is," he patiently answered. "We have a purpose for our experiment, a hypothesis, as well as a clear method of how to carry out this procedure."

He wheeled the table that contained his tray of utensils closer to the operating table, and to where Ema's head was positioned. "You see," the doctor added as he did so, "I've always wondered what sorts of strides mankind would be able to make in the field of science if we were not hindered by our natural shortcomings." After picking up the syringe once more, he positioned himself next to the girl's face cradle. "If we use the tools available to us, perhaps you, too, could make some valuable contributions to society someday."

Ema squirmed a little in her restraints, already uncomfortable with the direction in which the conversation seemed to be headed. Scientifically speaking, the doctor was absolutely right; this procedure had a purpose, a hypothesis, an experiment... all of the required elements for science were painfully present. It wasn't a scientific investigation in the sense that she used the term--this had nothing to do with forensic science--but it was one in its own way.

Still, something was incredibly off about this whole scenario. Science was supposed to be something done to help people, not something done to terrified sixteen-year-old girls strapped face-down on an operating table. She couldn't even give legal consent to this kind of experimental procedure, even if they'd asked her! And Lana wouldn't have stood for it at all; the previous night had left Ema with little doubt as to the fact that Lana still cared for her baby sister. And that baby sister was about to become a human lab rat. Lana was surely freaking out by now; she would have expected Ema to be in her bedroom. Ema could already imagine her older sister trying to break the door down. The thought brought a bit of comfort to the back of Ema's mind, albeit not much.

Ema only half-heard the doctor as he continued speaking, lost in the ocean of her own thoughts. He said something about advancing science by getting rid of natural shortcomings, and then that last part... "I-I already did... will make valuable contributions to society! I'm going to help my sister get free, and I'm going to become a scientific investigator!" The first claim was more a bold-faced lie than anything else, as Ema didn't actually know the results of her sister's trial. As far as Ema knew, the strength second statement more than made up for it, and it would have actually done so had it actually been true; unfortunately, it based on an altruistic lie-of-omission from Mr. Gavin the previous afternoon.

It was human nature to try to deny an unpleasant reality, even when it was in plain sight. Ema's feeble attempts to defend herself were merely a reflection of this, and easy enough to see through. Such behavior didn't suit someone who thought of herself as a scientist. Thankfully, she had a doctor who could help her see what was in front of her -- and in more ways than one.

"That's interesting...you sound awfully sure of yourself," he observed. "I'm especially curious about why you honestly believe you're going to become a scientific investigator as you are now."

While the set-up for the procedure was not ideal, some concessions had to be made in order to make certain he would be able to give the injections for both her eyes and spine. But the table was high enough from the ground for him to be able to fit underneath fairly comfortably if he lowered himself closer to the floor. Syringe in hand, he crouched down and moved beneath the face cradle a little. This was going to be the first and last time she would get a chance to fully see his face. By the time he was finished with this first procedure, she was probably going to wish she'd never had to look at him at all.

He gave Ema a wide smile.

"Now, this will probably pinch a bit, but it will hurt less if you don't fight it," he instructed her.

"Mr. Gavin said so!" Well, implied so, but to Ema is was as good as anything else. "And because I don't have any choice... I'm going to do it! You'll see, and you'll be sorry!" How exactly he would be sorry was something Ema hadn't actually put any thought into; she was mostly snapping at him to maintain some semblance of control over her circumstances. Even to herself, however, the attempt was feeble and futile.

When the doctor crouched in front of Ema with the syringe, she couldn't quite make out the features of his face despite his face being inches from hers; the shadows conveniently obscured pretty much everything except for the smile that spread across his features. It was the kind of smile that preceded horrible things. Ema tried to pull her head back away from him, despite the restraints. She was not successful.

"Where... where are you injecting me?" The pitch of Ema's voice was suddenly higher, and her speech contained an almost-stunted quality brought on by the sudden tightening of her chest.

Well, Mr. Gavin lied, apparently. Surely he knew better than to give false hopes to young, impressionable people who lacked what they needed to pursue their ambitions. But perhaps after tonight Ema would be far better equipped to become a passable addition to any forensic science department in the future. The doctor certainly intended to correct the girl's assumptions at some point, but first he wanted her to see just what true science was capable of.

"Perhaps I should let you piece that together yourself," he answered before pulling back a little and adjusting the face cradle's settings. Then, he added with a little snort, "After all, you do believe you're going to be a scientist someday, don't you?"

By now, the portion holding her face in place lowered a little, giving Ema just enough room to elongate her neck and look ahead. As soon as that was finished, the doctor removed a small bottle from the nearby tray. Using his gloved finger to tilt her chin up in a way that was probably uncomfortable, he allowed a couple of drops to fall into each eye.

The human neck isn't exactly designed to extend and then lean back in the manner that the doctor was now forcing Ema's to, and the strain was painful for the girl. Still resistant to whatever experiment the doctor was trying to perform on her, she tried to pull her face out of his grasp. The way in which her neck was stretched out, however, made her range of motion extremely limited; the best she could manage was to wiggle her head a little, not even strongly enough to shake the rather firm hold he had on her chin.

Even now, Ema still couldn't see his face clearly. That fact was very disconcerting.

Ema winced a little as the eyedrops hit her eyes, both from the physical sensation of it and the realization that they were being prepared for injection. "My... my eyes?!"

Not allowing Ema much freedom of movement was the only way he'd be able to carry out this procedure, the doctor knew. True, it made steps like this all the more uncomfortable, but, well...that wasn't exactly his concern, now was it? Thankfully, it looked like Ema was still able to retain her presence of mind, despite such issues. That would make her reactions to the rest of the experiment all the more interesting to observe.

"Oh, very good!" he replied in a mocking tone as he set the small bottle onto the table. "Of course, I imagine it should be fairly obvious by this point." Giving a soft chuckle, he adjusted the face cradle back to its original settings and abruptly let her face fall down onto it.

With that done, he moved to where he was once fully crouched under her face, readying the syringe now. The needle's sharp edge was pointed at Ema's eye. "Hold still," he said with a smile. "We wouldn't want to cause anymore damage than necessary, now would we?"

Ema yelped from the sudden, jerking movement, although the noise was more out of surprise than pain. If anything, returning to the original position was a relief on her neck, since it no longer was being contorted beyond its usual range of motion. However, she was back to being unable to see nothing except for what was directly in front of her: first the floor, then the shadowy face of her doctor-torturer as he crouched beneath her and pointed a scary-looking syringe directly toward her eye.

Without even fully realizing she was doing it, Ema tried to lean back away from the doctor. Like her last attempt to do so, the attempt was unsuccessful; she was locked up tight and had nowhere to go. For someone whose fight-or-flight reaction overwhelmingly tended toward flight, the inability to actually get away was horrifying. As it was, Ema had no choice but to face what was coming to her, at least until Lana broke down the door and came to her rescue. Lana kicked over an oil drum filled with water, after all. Ema had every confidence she could break into the room somehow with that strength.

But for now, with no sign of Lana anywhere nearby, Ema was on her own. She bit her lip and blinked several times to try and get rid of the stinging sensation in her eyes; she was determined not to cry in front of this man. "I... you'll have to hold my eyes open. I-I'll blink, it's instinct..." There was a terrible whimpering quality to Ema's voice as she spoke, each word closer to the threat of those tears falling.

Well, she was certainly being more cooperative than he'd anticipated. Or perhaps it was simply the product of realizing that she couldn't get away, that she was completely at his mercy. It was interesting, the way humans could adapt to hopeless situations. He wondered how else she would behave throughout the rest of the evening.

"Certainly," he replied, and he reached his gloved fingers out to pry her right eye completely open. Really, they were a nice shade of blue. They seemed like the sort that would normally be filled with wide-eyed optimism and foolish hopes for a future she was incapable of grasping by herself. The mutagen stored inside the syringe was bound to work wonders for her. Ema was just too blinded by her fear to realize it.

"Now, hold still." And with that, the needle's sharp edge pierced into the white of her eyeball, reaching further and further back until it was touching her retina. Then, slowly, he began to insert the chemical.

Really, what else could Ema do but cooperate? At the moment, she was tightly secured to a table, her head was rendered immovable by face cradle, and she was well aware of her inability to fight back even if she could somehow break free of all the bondage. Ema hadn't even been able to incapacitate one of the nighttime rats that roamed the hallways without sustaining a rather serious injury two nights ago; she didn't stand a chance against someone larger than herself.

Cooperation, however, was not synonymous with acceptance, at least not in Ema's mind. This was still unauthorized human experimentation, and it was still wrong. "W-why are you doing th--"

The doctor's directive--hold still--and the subsequent sensation of the needle entering Ema's eye stopped the girl from finishing that thought. Another, far more pressing issue became apparent at that point: pain. Whatever the purpose of the eyedrops he'd given her earlier, it wasn't an anesthetic. Unprepared for actual pain and unable to properly get away from it, Ema let out an unintelligible noise as she cringed in her restraints. Thankfully, her restraints kept her from moving too much, or else the needle in her eye might have slipped.

The battle against her tears, meanwhile, was officially lost.

"There's a good girl," he slowly said as a smile crept across his face. She could cry all she wanted, but it would do nothing to make this process any easier for her, nor was it going to stop the mutagen from being effective. True, giving her the injections this way was likely bound to cause some mild subconjunctival hemorrhaging, but that was going to be the least of her worries by the time this was through.

Once the chemical was properly injected, he pulled the needle out and set the used syringe onto the tray next to him. After promptly grabbing the second one, he took a moment to make certain it was working properly. "You must be terribly curious about what this is supposed to do," he said. "What I'm giving you now will soon turn many of the rod cells in your retina into cone cells. Of course, I'm sure someone like you already knows what that means."

His fingers moved to pry open her other eye as he readied the needle. "Just one more," he told her, "and then we can move onto something else. Aren't you excited?"

The process of injecting the chemical and removing the needle from her eye seemed to take an eternity, even though scientifically speaking it couldn't have taken him more than a minute to do both. Once the needle was free from her eye she blinked several times to try and relieve the lingering stinging sensation. Her tears helped with the surface stinging caused by the doctor holding her eye open, but they did little to help alleviate the damage the needle did in the internal parts of her eye. The sclera of her eye--eyes, since the doctor was preparing a syringe for her left one--was bound to be red tomorrow.

Ema couldn't exactly determine from the doctor's tone if the vague description of the injection's purpose was meant to mock her or to treat her like the scientist she was, although she had a feeling it wasn't the latter. Still, she did her best to try and recall the unit on the eyes in her anatomy class; it hadn't been all that long ago, only last semester. Cone cells were responsible for... clarity. Color. Detail. Rod cells did something else; Ema couldn't quite recall. Obviously their function was less important.

Realization hit Ema like a brick wall; the doctor was improving her ability to investigate. So that was what he meant about improving on her natural limitations. Ema wasn't sure if she should be horrified, grateful, or horrified that the thought of gratitude even crossed her mind. Her stomach churned a little, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut and take a deep (although shuddering) breath to keep herself from screaming. Despite the potential benefit to herself, this was supposed to be wrong. This was wrong! Science wasn't supposed to go like this! She shouldn't want to thank him for it!

"No, I'm not excited! You're hurting me!" she shouted back through her tears, the closest she would get to expressing her inner turmoil to the doctor. If nothing else, at least Ema could say she took a stand after it was all over.

Ah, but the pain would only be a short while, and then Ema would possess far better senses to use for her scientific investigations. Or was she simply too short-sighted to understand that? Either way, the doctor intended to spell out her shortcomings for her before the night was over.

"I would have imagined you'd be more grateful," he said, moving the needle to where it was hovering over her eye. With how wet her face was from her pointless tears, he wanted to make certain he had a good grip before he gave the injection. "If you'd met me sooner, perhaps you would have been able to provide more decisive evidence during that lackluster testimony you gave, hm?"

But now wasn't the best time to be chatty. The doctor fell silent as he finally brought the syringe in and pierced the white of her other eye. Having just done this a few moments before, it was easier to tell where her retina began. Once he was far enough back, he started injecting the mutagen.

"Sh-shut up! You weren't there, you don't know anything!"

Except he did know, or he wouldn't have brought the issue up in the first place. He knew all about her testimony two years ago, which meant he knew about Joe Darke and her relation to his final killing. Worse, he knew how to properly use that memory against Ema, bringing back that feeling of complete and utter uselessness rubbing it raw. What kind of records did this place have on her? What kinds of doctors did they employ? Ema didn't dwell too long on those questions; she was too afraid of their answers.

After the outburst, Ema went quiet, this time keeping her pained noise to a soft whimper as the doctor injected the chemical into her left retina.

The doctor didn't immediately reply to Ema, instead silently concentrating as he focused on the procedure at hand. After a few moments, he'd finished that eye as well, and he slowly pulled the needle out of her eyeball. "I may not have been present, but I do indeed know many things, Ema," he calmly replied as he drew away from the girl. "Things about Joe Darke, about your sister Lana..."

After setting the syringe back down onto the tray, he began to prepare for the next stage of the experiment. With an odd clinical detachment, he examined the sharp utensils glinting beneath the room's white light, as well as a pair of small, sophisticated mechanical ear drums that were enclosed in a box. It was a shame Ema couldn't see them, as she'd likely be most curious about their function.

"It's a shame, isn't it?" he added. "The way she's changed so much since that unfortunate incident, I mean. I wonder what could possibly make someone behave so coldly toward her only sister..."

That stung.

Even if Ema hadn't been tied face-down on the examination table, she wouldn't have bothered gazing after the doctor as he moved away from her. Instead, she stared straight down at the floor, sniffling and trying to pretend that what the man was saying wasn't true or hadn't crossed her mind before now. All in all it was a futile effort; even if she didn't engage the doctor in his banter, the thoughts and memories he seemed so hellbent on stirring up threatened to eat her from the inside out. It was as if the doctor had gotten inside of Ema's head somehow, playing with her thoughts and her insecurities and her fears. A growing part of her just wanted to shut down and start sobbing, rendering herself more worthless than she already felt.

But Ema wasn't a fourteen-year-old kid anymore. She was three years shy of her formal assignment to forensics and two years into a self-imposed study regimen of forensic science. She was smarter, stronger, better equipped to handle traumatic circumstances. If she was going to prove anything to Lana and to herself, she had to keep from falling apart. Maybe then, what the doctor was suggsting wouldn't matter; Ema would win back her sister's attention and respect, and things between them could go back to the way they were before Joe Darke ruined their lives. And if this doctor was stupid enough to make her better at investigating the circumstances while he tortured her, then she was going to use it to her advantage and ignore everything he had to say. His mistake. She rolled her eyes around, trying to use her newly-improved eyes to take in some detail that she wouldn't have caught before. Was it her, or did things somehow look less clear instead of moreso?

In an unfortunately-timed recollection, Ema finally remembered the function of rod cells: night and peripheral vision, which were exactly the types of vision Ema needed most right now to investigate her current circumstances. Okay, so the doctor wasn't an idiot. He was an evil genius. Rally failed.

"Don't pretend like you know or understand my sister!" Ema snapped, frustrated with herself and perfectly at ease with taking it out on the doctor. "And what are you going to do to me now?!"

The doctor could tell whenever he said something that cut particularly deep. Ema was quite easy to read in that regard. Really, though, it was foolish for her to waste her energy getting upset over it. After all, he wasn't saying that wasn't already true.

"I know much more than you realize," he told her. Like, for example, the exact reason why Lana had distanced herself from her dear sister. But where was the fun in explaining everything so clearly? She did want to become a scientific investigator. There was no reason for anyone to give her answers on a silver platter.

In the meantime, it looked like she was rather eager to continue on with tonight's procedures. The doctor smiled as he pushed a chair closer to where Ema was strapped. "Now, now, we wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, would we?" he said as he took a seat next to the operating table. After dabbing a cotton swab in a bit of alcohol, he pulled some of her hair back and began wiping the inside of her ear clean. Granted, he'd be digging in much deeper than this in a moment, but he wanted to make certain that his path wouldn't be blocked by anything. "I'm hoping you'll find this just as interesting as what you had done to your eyes. Just think of it! Tonight you'll have the opportunity to see science at its finest, Ema."

More than anything, Ema wanted to contradict him again. She wanted to tell him he knew nothing, tell him that his lies and mind games wouldn't work on her so he had better stop it. However, Ema couldn't, not over this. Given the evidence thusfar, the doctor knew everything there was to know about Ema's history and psyche. It stood to reason that he would know the same about Lana.

The doctor moved in closer and had a seat, gently brushing her hair aside. Ema couldn't stop herself from shuddering a little in her restraints as he did so. The shudder stopped abruptly, however, when a small, wet substance entered her ear canal. The doctor was cleaning it out, which only meant one thing: her sense of hearing was the next to be improved. Hopefully it wouldn't involve something traumatic like a needle into her inner ear, but she wasn't going to hold her breath. Ethical considerations for the human subject didn't seem high on this doctor's list of priorities.

"This... this isn't science at its finest," Ema answered slowly, careful not to move her head too much; the last thing she wanted was for him to accidentally rupture her eardrum with whatever he was using to clean it. "It's more like a torture chamber with science as an afterthought." She was clinging tightly to that distinction; she had to. Science was too important to her to be tainted by this man in this horrible place.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," he said, though his tone suggested he was anything but. "However, after we're finished, I think even you'll have to agree that your senses will be much more adequate for pursuing a career as a scientific investigator."

After disposing of the cotton swab, he picked up one of the sharper utensils, which had already been sterilized. Since this required a fair amount of concentration, he fell silent as he brought the pointed edge near her ear. He could have given her fair warning, of course, but he was eager to go ahead and see the results of his research.

It was for that reason he abruptly plunged the edge deep into her ear, striking Ema's eardrum.

The doctor's nearly-nonchalant response brought to mind a troubling thought. Assuming that her vision was actually greatly improved in adequate light, Ema couldn't deny that the results of the experiment would be endlessly useful to her. Did that mean the ends justified the means? Could it be that--

A terrible stabbing pain into Ema's ear suddenly cut off that train of thought. The needle into eyes had stung, but whatever the doctor had just done was excruciating in comparison, and she didn't even have a chance to anticipate the strike and prepare herself for the blow.

Unable to hold it back, Ema screamed.

Perhaps it would have been more humane to give anesthesia while carrying out such a procedure, but that certainly wouldn't have been half as interesting. After all, it wasn't everyday one received the opportunity to witness a person's reaction to having their eardrums ruptured. Even so, the doctor did not let Ema's screams distract him. Working quietly and efficiently, he moved the utensil around in her ear until he was quite certain the eardrum was destroyed.

After that, he wasted no time in removing the dirtied edge and placed it onto a separate tray. Of course, the little mess he'd made needed to be cleaned up before he continued. Draining the excess fluid in her ear was necessary, which was exactly what he did once he picked up a small suction tool designed for that very purpose.

When the doctor was satisfied, it was time to proceed with the next step. With a set of tweezers in hand, he gently lifted one of the mechanical eardrums from the box and inserted it into Ema's ear. Naturally, he had to push it in there to make certain it was far enough back. But compared to everything before now, that seemed simple enough.

"Now, how does that sound?" he asked once he'd thought he'd properly tucked the new eardrum in.

Ema kept screaming and, subsequently, sobbing as the doctor took it upon himself to cut her eardrum apart before sucking its remains (and the resulting fluids) out of her ear canal. This went far beyond the emotional distress the doctor had thrown her way so far; this was physical torture, plain and simple.

Once her ear was clear of the no-doubt gory mess the doctor had made of it, he inserted something into it with surprising gentleness, considering how he had treated her ear up until that point. After that the doctor spoke, and Ema realized that she had been functionally deaf in that ear for several minutes. The doctor's voice was suddenly louder and clearer. The effects of the procedure were limited because Ema's head had become congested from all the crying, but even then the difference was unmistakable.

"You... why aren't you using anesthesia...?" Ema managed between the remaining sniffles and half-sobs, completely ignoring the doctor's question.

The doctor didn't immediately answer, instead taking the time to bring his tray and chair over to the other side of the table. Some people may have found the screaming and sobbing of the patient unnerving, but to him it was only another reaction that was worth taking note of. Then again, he would have been surprised if she'd behaved any differently, given how painful a ruptured eardrum was bound to feel.

After picking up another cotton swab dabbed in alcohol, he quickly cleaned out her ear. Then, he disposed of it and grasped another sterilized utensil like the one he'd used before. "Why, I thought you would love to get a first-hand demonstration of what science is capable of," he explained. "Not giving you anesthesia certainly won't kill you, at any rate. Though it may hurt a bit, for which I do apologize." Despite his words, however, anyone listening to him may have been able to detect a hint of a smile in his voice.

With that said, he plunged the pointed edge deep into her ear, destroying the eardrum the same as he'd done on the other side. Once he thought the rupture was sufficient, the doctor once again began draining the resulting fluids, as well as what remained of the eardrum.

Ema kept crying softly as the doctor moved, unable to calm herself down. The dread that pitting itself in her stomach was overwhelming. Logic dictated that the doctor was about to repeat the procedure on her other ear, since it simply didn't make sense to alter only one ear. Even though she knew that it was coming, the wet, cool sensation of the cotton swab in her other ear caused her to visibly flinch; it was a confirmation that pain was to follow.

The way that the doctor kept talking to her, despite everything, only served to make the whole situation worse. It was like he was mocking her, with all his talk about wanting to show her science. She already knew science! "I don't want--!"

And that was all Ema managed to get out before he cut her other eardrum apart. She was quickly reduced back to screaming and crying in pain.

The doctor remained expressionless as he worked on cleaning out her ear properly, effectively ignoring Ema's cries while he focused. Once he was finished with that, he reached for the second mechanical eardrum and slowly eased it into her ear. Not that he cared if he caused Ema more discomfort -- in reality, he just didn't want to break the equipment he was using for this procedure. Of course, he couldn't speak for how well it would continue working without malfunctioning in the future. But that was part of the reason why they were testing this out in the first place.

"There we are," he said once he thought he'd pushed the mechanical eardrum as far as he needed to. "You should be able to hear much better now. Worth a little bit of pain, don't you think?"

With that finished, he began to arrange a series of larger needles in order to prepare for the final procedure. "The last step should be a little less messy, in case you're interested," he added, matter of fact. "I'm sure you'll be quite pleased with the results."

"That... that was more than a little pain," Ema whimpered, barely loud enough for the doctor to hear. Her throat hurt from all the screaming and her voice was starting to become hoarse, making the act of talking increasingly difficult. Whether the doctor heard her--or cared to--didn't matter; it wasn't really intended for him, anyhow. Based on his actions so far, Ema didn't really expect him to be too worried about the degree of pain he'd put her through.

The injured tissue in her ears had been removed and replaced, so at least the agony had been short-lived. As the doctor continued, however, Ema realized just how fleeting that relief actually was. The doctor hadn't been lying when he said he had improved her hearing, and all the little noises that she'd barely registered before suddenly echoed in her ears, giving her a headache. Particularly bothersome was the sound of the doctor arranging something on a metal tray; the noise was too loud and the behavior too ominous. It was enough to send Ema into yet another bit of panic.

"What... what's next? My sense of smell? Taste?" Ema could only imagine the types of horrors this man could do to her sinuses or her tongue. Visions of tongue clamps and syringes long enough to access her brain through her nose passed through her mind; worse still was the thought that he might go straight for her brain next, cutting open her skull and poking around while she was still conscious. None of this helped lower her level of anxiety. "What else are you going to do to me?!"

"Well, I suppose it's all a matter of perspective," the doctor pleasantly said as he picked up one the syringes and examined it closely to make certain there were no problems. Still, it didn't matter to him whether Ema was in pain. He only cared about results, and whether they would be of interest to his field of study.

It was obvious the girl was beginning to panic again. She was in luck, though. In his opinion, the last procedure wasn't nearly as excruciating as having one's eardrums torn out. Of course, she'd probably complain about it anyway, but that was simply the way many of these patients were.

She'd been smart enough to piece together the other aspects of the experiment, so the doctor saw no reason to inform her of what was to come. Instead, he calmly lifted her shirt up, exposing her back to the light above them. After using a cold alcohol wipe on a place toward the top of her back, he quickly drove the thick needle from the syringe straight into her spine.

Frustratingly, the doctor decided to answer the statement that had nothing to do with him and leave her questions completely unaddressed. Ema was starting to believe that the doctor was bound and determined to make her more emotionally distraught than she already was; simply because Ema has managed to push back all of the doubts he'd raised in her didn't mean that she had conquered or eliminated them. The only reasons why she hadn't become completely absorbed by them were stubborn refusal to do so in front of the doctor and the distraction of the actual procedure. Panic, pain, and pride overrode insecurity, unpleasant memories, and the resurgence of past trauma. There would be plenty of time for the latter after the doctor concluded his experiments--or when Lana arrived to rescue her.

As she waited in dread for the beginning of the last procedure, Ema realized that a distant banging on the door was not among the new sounds she could hear throughout the room. Had something happened to Lana during the rescue attempt? Or, worse, did Lana simply not bother? Ema thought that maybe last night had been a breakthrough for the two of them, but perhaps she had been mistaken.

Ema never thought she would consciously wish her sister ill, but she hoped that something bad had happened to hold Lana up. She wasn't sure she could handle the alternative.

The cool wetness of the alcohol wipe caught Ema off-guard, even after the doctor had lifted her shirt. Before she could even prepare herself for anything, the doctor had a needle into the top of her spine. Ema bit her lip and gave a pained whine. While it wasn't the all-out agony that the destruction of her eardrums had been, the needle still hurt quite a bit.

The implications of the procedure were suddenly obvious. The doctor intended to affect her central nervous system through her spinal cord; he was going to improve her sense of touch. Easily, this was the most dangerous of the three procedures, a fact had the disjointed effect of causing Ema even more anxiety while rendering her perfectly still. The risks of a spinal procedure were potentially fatal, so Ema was too afraid to move aside from her shallow breathing and a slight, involuntary tremble.

Before the doctor emptied the syringe into her, Ema forced herself to speak up. "This... scientifically speaking..." Even though it was a phrase that Ema used (and abused) often, suddenly the words all but stuck in her throat. "It's really dangerous. One slip, and... please be careful." And please stop hurting me, she wanted to add, but it would have just been a waste of breath.

Yes, this certainly was something that needed to be handled with caution. Though he didn't particularly care whether Ema was comfortable, it was also true that he didn't want to waste his time by botching up the procedure. It was for that reason he didn't immediately respond to the girl's pleas, instead focusing on injecting her spine with the chemical intended to alter her central nervous system. Once that was taken care of, he pulled the needle out, set it down, and placed a bandage over where he'd given the shot.

"No need to worry," the doctor said. "As long as you cooperate, I'll uphold my end of the deal and make sure I don't paralyze you or do something equally unpleasant, hm?" He was a professional, after all.

He unwrapped another alcohol wipe and rubbed it across a spot beneath where the last injection was given. "Besides, this would all be rather pointless if we actually further hindered your investigation skills," he added with mock sincerity. "Your chances of succeeding in that field are slim enough as it is..."

With those words, he pressed yet another syringe into her spine.

The chemical felt like fire under Ema's skin as it spread from the injection point throughout her central nervous system. More than anything, she wanted to squirm and curl up into a ball. Scientifically speaking, moving any part of her body wasn't likely to relieve any of the burning pain, since it was her nerves and not her muscles that were being affected. However, Ema was pretty well in a state beyond scientific logic. The girl was approaching desperation, since this experiment kept going on and on, seemingly without end.

Still no sign of Lana trying to break in.

Despite the overwhelming urge to move, Ema remained still; she didn't want to end up paralyzed or worse, and she was restrained to the point that movement would be minimal anyhow. All she could do was hope that the one shot was all that the doctor meant to give her, a hope that was rapidly dashed as he prepared another injection site and drove another syringe into her spine, this time with biting words.

"Ah...! I-I already told you, I did succeed!" Just because Ema had to stay still didn't mean she had to stay quiet. She couldn't let the slight against her go unanswered, not when there was testimony that proved him wrong. "Mr. Gavin said... he said I will!"

Really, it was amazing how naive this girl was. Not only did she wish to ignore the darker aspects of science that were so clearly right in front of her, but she still believed she naturally had what it took to become a scientific investigator. As tempting as it was to go ahead and shoot down her hopes, though, the doctor had to contain himself for a moment as he worked on injecting another round of chemicals into her central nervous system.

Once he'd pulled the needle out, however, his shoulders began to shake, and he couldn't hide his laughter anymore. "Did he!" Really, did someone who wanted to become a scientific investigator hope to simply take someone for his word? The doctor shook his head as he turned and began to ready the next syringe.

"And what, exactly, did he tell you?" he asked. "That you'd fail your exam and be reduced to conducting unauthorized scientific investigations as a lowly detective? Or did he conveniently neglect to mention those pesky details?"

The second injection was worse than the first one, since it only served to make the pain in her nerves that much more acute as it spread further throughout her body. Ema just barely caught herself before she started wriggling in her restraints in a desperate attempt to do something about increasingly unpleasant sensation. As before, the only thing that stopped her from moving was fear of being paralyzed or dropping dead. Instead, she took several shaking breaths to try and calm herself until the syringe was safely out of her spinal cord.

It was at that point that the doctor laughed at her, causing Ema to automatically wince in response. He'd seemed amused by her the entire night, which had Ema feeling insulted enough considering the circumstances and the mind games that he seemed so damn insistent on playing. Actual laughter, especially laughter as completely unrestrained as his, was just cruel. Ema bit her bottom lip hard, determined not to react too noticeably. She had to stay strong and composed, she had to prove that she was a capable professional to her sister and somehow hold everything together until--

Wait, did the doctor just say she would fail her forensic science proficiency examination?

That wasn't possible. Not after the years of study she had...would put into the effort. Not after the tireless dedication that Ema would put forth, her entire life revolving around various scientific theories and techniques. Not after everything Ema had been through, after everything that everyone else had been through because of her. Was she really going to let them all down? Was she really going to become a failure on top of everything else? How would she be able to face her sister after that, assuming that she didn't somehow screw up and send Lana straight to death row? How would she be able to face anyone after that?

'Everyone lies, Ema.' Ema could practically hear Lana's words from the previous night echoing in her mind. Thinking back on her conversation with Mr. Gavin yesterday afternoon, it occurred to Ema that he never actually came out and affirmed her status as a scientific investigator, only that she investigated crime scenes scientifically. At the time she hadn't realized the semantic difference, but suddenly the two phrases seemed to bear little resemblance to each other. The suddenness of the realization was enough to make Ema sick. Mr. Gavin had lied. Lies of omission were still lies, after all; Lana had made that clear the previous night as well.

Which meant that the doctor had been right all along. This hell that he put Ema through--was still putting her through--was for her own good. On her own, she was useless, a waste of effort. The one thing she thought she was good at would turn out to be a total joke. She would fail. And maybe she would fail at saving Lana, as well. Maybe Ema wasn't destined to be anything more than the pathetic fourteen year old girl who couldn't even give a worthwhile testimony against the man who tried to kill her. No wonder Lana pulled away. Ema was doomed to disappoint, and Lana was smart enough to perceive it long before Ema ever could.

Still no sign of Lana. And probably none forthcoming; why would Lana want to interrupt something that was going to make her failure of a baby sister better?

It was all too much. The procedure, the physical pain, the way her world was shattering into pieces all around her compounded to create something far greater than the girl was able to handle; Ema was at her breaking point. Unable to deal with everything and giving up on presenting a strong front to the doctor for the sake of pride or proving something (because there was nothing left to prove), Ema simply screamed, "SHUT UP!"

After a few quiet sobs, she added, "Please just... just finish. I don't want to talk anymore..."

Oh, had he touched a nerve there? "Funny, isn't it?" he said conversationally, ignoring the girl's distress. "The way people are so desperate to learn the truth, yet they can hardly stand it when it becomes too ugly for them to look at." It was yet another one of those facets of humanity that hindered its ultimate progress. While there was little he could do to fix that unfortunate flaw, the enhanced senses Ema was going to leave with tonight would no doubt make it difficult for her to turn away from what was plainly in front of her.

Perhaps she would thank him later, once she could truly appreciate and understand the infinite possibilities found within science. For now, he would just have to listen to her crying. Although that was interesting in its own right, it sounded as though she'd been thoroughly broken for the evening. While the doctor would have been satisfied with picking at her open wounds for the rest of the night, fortunately for Ema the procedure was nearly finished anyway.

After wiping the final alcohol swap over the lower portion of her spine, he promptly injected Ema with the final syringe. Slowly, the chemical entered her body, no doubt increasing her pain by a great deal. Not that he cared, of course. It was just a small part of the bigger picture. At any rate, she would need to eventually adjust to such heightened sensitivity regardless.

Once he'd removed the needle, the doctor swiftly disposed of it and tidied up his equipment. After a few minutes of silently working, he briefly turned to look at Ema. "I do hope you can make good use of your new abilities," he said. "Please don't disappoint me." He smiled. "Or your sister, for that matter."

With that final remark, he walked over to the door and stepped out into the hallway. After a few moments of silence, Ema's bindings unlocked, allowing her to move freely.

Ema was honestly not sure which hurt worse: the final injection or the way in which the doctor seemed so intent on rubbing salt into wounds he'd already rubbed raw. Unwilling (and unable) to keep up her end of the conversation--if it could even be called that--the only noises Ema made were the sounds of her crying and a low cry of pain when the last of the chemical hit her system.

The silence that followed the doctor's departure was deafening. It was almost crueler than anything else he'd done to her over the course of the night, making that final request before leaving her alone to her thoughts. Please don't disappoint me... or your sister, for that matter. She already had! The doctor had made his disdain for her obvious, a fact that bothered Ema a lot more than it should have considering everything he had just done to her. And as far as Lana was concerned, how much more could she possibly ruin things?

Once Ema was free to move she scrambled off the table, still in pain, and crawled toward the corner of the room farthest from the door. More than anything, she wanted to bolt out the door and run until her legs gave out as if she could somehow outrun reality and her distress. The only thing holding her back was the absolute knowledge that Lana would disapprove; Ema was weak, night blind, terrified, and lost. A rat would easily tear her to shreds in this state, to say nothing of anything larger. And if by some miracle she managed to survive the night, the next morning she would have to face that cold, cutting tone from Lana that she'd grown to hate. Even if Ema was already irrevocably a failure, there was no sense in making things worse. In that regard, at least, she would follow the doctor's orders.

And so Ema pulled her knees to her chest and stared at the doorway, waiting for a rescue that was probably never going to come.

Nightshift 49: Disciplinary Therapy Room 2 [M-U for Ema Skye]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject