Prisoner 230

About insanity

“We should check on him, its been a while”

Lieutenant Hughs, glanced at the corporal, shifting  slightly so he didn’t quite have to meet the other mans gaze.

“The Doc said no, not unless he’s here or we get a code blue”

“Yeah, but..”

“But nothing, look granted its disquieting to stand here in the cell corridor it could be worse, there could windows into the cells”

The corporal had the look on his face Hughs had been waiting for, down here eventually all men had it, the mental ethical conflict, the pity and the guilty joy that at least they weren’t in one of the tiny cement cells.

Suddenly the Lieutenant was standing up straight; both men had their hands on their guns. Screaming filtered out from under the gap in the door, screaming filled with a torturous pain, the corporal looked like a man about to part with his breakfast.

For several more seconds the soul ripping sound went on, the Lieutenant swallowed, hard and looked away, griping his pistol with the effort of not checking on the man in cell 230.

 

June 10^th 2009

Subject 230 again spent much of the day in an advanced state of vexation. He appears to concern much of his time with wandering around his holding pen, I surmise he is searching for a way out. However this is a futile exercise as, since this is his 19^th day in the program, he should be well aware that his holding pen contains only one well sealed exit. The subject reported for the 12^th time that he is a father and could help with the theoretical side of the program, this was as it has been done all other times ignored.

 

Lieutenant Hughs sighed, they had sent him Sergeant  Pinel. The corporal had long ago succumb to the psychological nightmare of the cells, he just prayed that the corporal wouldn’t end up in cell 116, apparently the old prisoner had finally been granted death.                                                                    “ Hello Hughs, cant seem to keep a man?” Pinel smirked as he looked into the grey eyes of the longest surviving cells guard. Hughs just sucked air through his teeth, slowly rising to his full intimidating height. He didn’t just dislike Pinel, he loathed the man, people like Pinel got off to the screams of the prisoners. “So, corridor Foxtrot’ still your little hole hey? Still no permanent partner” the Sergeant grinned but gave the Lieutenant space, there was something unnerving about the man, he didn’t seem to enjoy his job but he still seemed sane. Hughs glanced at  cell 230, he was worried about the prisoner his health seemed to be deteriorating fast.

 

June 28^th 2009

Subject 230 has refused nourishment again, fears are being raised as his general health has drastically decreased. The subject no longer concerns himself with investigating the properties of his holding pen instead he spends much of the time either asleep or lying still on his cot. Subject 230 has made no further requests to aid the program and indeed has abandoned most efforts to communicate with researchers. Occasionally he is reported to mumble thoughts of his life pre-program these though as time passes they become less and less coherent.

 

“Sergeant send a request for a doctors check on prisoner 230 this is the 6^th meal refused” Lieutenant Hughs spoke sharply as he placed the untouched food into the dumbwaiter, some men might have tried to convince the prisoner to eat, Pinel wanted to force the man but Hughs knew when a person was gone. Prisoner 230 was fast approaching the state horses inhabit just before their glue. The Sergeant shook his head grumbling but did as he was ordered, he sensed his superior officer was in a mood to claim that anybody arguing with him suddenly died as he the Lieutenant “defended” himself. Hughs walked back careful not to lean against any wall that was the outside of a cell, 1 meter of cement didn’t seem enough between him and the tortured animals he guarded. The radio crackled “Request denied, prisoner 230 is schedule for interrogation at 1800 hours”
That was that then, Hughs thought. Pinel smiled, a tainted joy blazing in his eyes, prisoner 230 always begged so drastically when interrogation time came round.

 

August 2^nd, 2009

Subject 230 resolved into a fit today, attacking the researcher interrogating him. It must be reported that despite his neglected state the subject retained enough strength to result in a deep wound from the researchers shoulder to his wrist, using only a pen. All attempts to communicate with the subject are now proving pointless as the subject shows no capabilities of making rational conversation. It is predicted that the subject will be terminated from the program within the next 36 hours.

“Get away from that f*****g door and call the doctors!” The sound of Lieutenant Hughs screaming was the most terrifying sound  Pinel had heard, forcing him away from cell 230’s door and on to the radio. Hughs would be damned before he let scum like Pinel be the last thing these prisoners saw. Reaching for the heavy locks, blue lights flashing, the dull tone of code blue blaring, he breathed heavily preparing for the sight on the other side. The prisoner lay in an expanding pool of blood, deep stab wounds sprouted all along the body. Hughs breathed deeply he had known this prisoner before he had had been sent here, the man had been one of the theoretical researchers who had devised the program.    The mans hands were bloody and lay limply be his sides, a long line of stitches going from the shoulder to the wrist adorned one arm. A pen stuck into the back of the mans head was coated in glisting  red. Lieutenant Hughs sighed, he had seen worse, the man was dead, on more man free. He turned to leave and tried with all his resolve to not read the dated writing all around the cell walls.