Chapter 15: Losing Control
Eun-woo was curled up on the floor, wrapped in the bed covers as if they could protect him from more than just the cold. His hands were buried in his hair, squeezing so tightly it hurt.
How do I explain that this happens to me all the time?
For Eun-woo, suddenly fainting was a normal part of his life. Sometimes it happened from a spontaneous fever, and other times from a tightness in his chest that prevented air from reaching his lungs. He had learned to live with it. It never alarmed the Men in White, and since they didn’t take him out of his cell for it, he assumed it wasn’t a big deal.
The other Specimens got sick more often. Some would throw themselves against the walls until they bled, while others would simply bleed to death for no apparent reason. He had learned this from the Men in White themselves; the times they came, opened the grate, and whispered things were ideal opportunities to learn about the other Specimens’ situation.
Many lost their sanity. Some did so slowly over time. Others had already arrived broken. Eun-woo believed himself to be whole. Among the variety of Specimens, he thought he was the most stable. But that no longer seemed true. Now that he was out of the Research Center, that idea was beginning to crumble.
Since arriving at the glass house, he had ignored many things. He had clung to a mask of innocence, pretending he was free, that everything he was experiencing was real and not another kind of experiment, but he couldn’t take it anymore.
The walls were so thin that any noise penetrated them. The smells pooled and mingled: soap, damp wood, sweat, and blood. It clung to his nose. The textures, the colors, the light filtering through the cracks... the world was too much for him.
And that room... it was too big, too empty, too unstable.
He felt the ceiling tilt, the walls breathe, the floor rotate beneath his feet. Objects vibrated, as if they too wanted to escape.
The room was suffocating him.
He missed his cell —that prison without sound, without smell, without memory. Gray, silent, and motionless. Where he could shut out the world and where he didn’t feel as much.