Such a Simple Cure

His disorder was easily fixed, something no other hospital would have even bothered with. But the Institute wasn't any other hospital.

He launched the only chair in his room at the window, hoping and praying it worked this time. The chair bounced back and he dodged out of the way, ducking behind his bed. He looked up to the window and let out an angry groan. The glass was perfectly intact. It made sense though, all the windows in his cell were safety glass, the kind with wire running through them so they wouldn't break, and in the off chance they did the shards wouldn't fall to the floor.

He didn't want to get out of here, he actually was okay with being in this place. They gave him food and shelter, something he didn't really have when he was squatting in various buildings. He just wanted the glass. He loved the way the cold shards felt against his tongue, even if they tore into his throat when he swallowed.

It had started as a means to get something, anything into his stomach when he couldn't find food. But now he needed it. The glass was better than any meal he'd ever tasted. Each piece had its own flavor, dependent on color and how old it was. Some tasted sweet, others had a salty taste. Some were earthy and warm, others cold like ice. Some would cut him, wound the inside of his mouth and throat due to the jagged edges. But others broke off in a rounded manner and went down without hazard. He'd gotten used to carrying around a bottle to spit blood into for the former kind.

They had brought him here after he shattered a store window and they thought he was trying to rob the place. And that was okay, if he had known a place like this existed he would have broken a window much sooner. In the three days he'd been here he'd eaten more than he had in the last three months. His stomach was full and he was kept warm, but that didn't curve the craving. No matter how much he ate he still needed the glass, always would need the glass.

But today was the day he could finally ask for it. He had been under lock down until they decided where to put him. Yesterday he'd been told he was going to be moved to ward two. He'd heard good things about ward two, that it was the only floor that the patients were able to wander. Today he'd get access to everything that the rest of the patients did. He would be allowed to go to the cafeteria and to talk with the guards. Maybe if he asked nicely they could provide him with a bottle or a plate. He didn't care what it was, as long as it would shatter.

The click of the lock confirmed that they were indeed coming for him today. The guard gestured for him to get up and he did so eagerly. He was handed a new blanket, two sets of clothes, and sheets for his new bed. They led him down the hall without putting him in shackles like last time. When they entered ward two a smile spread across his face. The walls were all clean and white, the sterile smell of a hospital filled his nostrils and he could hear the sounds of voices all around him.

The guard led him down the hallway to a small room halfway down. "This is yours, be back here every night by ten. The bells go off every hour. You'll be given a schedule to follow by a doctor soon. You will go to the cafeteria, therapy, and anything else they tell you to and be there on time. If you cause trouble you will be sedated and moved to solitary again for as long as necessary. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir." He nodded, walking into the room and looking right up to the window. He frowned when he saw more safety glass. "Sir, is there any way I could get a soda, the kind in the glass bottles?" He asked sweetly, desperation clear in his voice.

"Nice try boy, but I've got orders to keep you away from glass." The guard chuckled, turning to leave.

"But...please, there has to be some way to get something." He pleaded, reaching out for the guard.

The guard whipped around to glare at him. "The things I tell you are steadfast, you will not question guards or doctors. Watch yourself boy, or you'll get into a heap of trouble you really don't want to be in."

His face reddened and he turning back to his new room, wandering inside to start making the bed. He'd just have to ask around and see if any of the patients could settle his craving.

*   *   *

Hyalophagia wasn't a disorder that was normally brought in to this type of place. Normally two sessions of therapy would cure it and everything was perfect. But it was something that could be researched so they Institute went against better judgment and admitted the man.

Oddly enough, he seemed happy to be within the stone walls. Most likely due to his former situation. He'd been homeless for two and a half years after a bitter divorce had left him with nothing. It was a story he told freely to every doctor he met.

Dr. Greenlie looked over his file from the initial interview. He was very sociable, kind, and willing to follow any direction given as long as he stayed fed and warm. She knew if left alone it wouldn't take long for him to kick his addiction, so while the guards told him they couldn't provide him with glass, they would strategically place bottles and dishes where he would certainly find them. His room had been fitted with a desk, two drawers containing false bottoms that would make it easy for him to stash the things he found. All in order to keep him eating the dangerous material.

His cheery nature was refreshing, but she knew he would be broken of it after the tests began. They all became dull and lifeless in time. It was a shame that such a minor disorder had condemned him for life, but she didn't have time to pity him. There were bigger things to be done.