Jaden Baker

by Courtney Kirchoff

  “That’s barbaric,” Sam replied. “He has to be relaxed to set these bones correctly, or he could have permanent damage. I have to give him something.”

  Jaden’s hands throbbed. He wanted death. Maybe the doctor would take pity on him and slip him drugs or kill him.

  “Fine” said the man. “Give him just enough to do what you need, nothing more.” He looked down at Jaden. “I’ll see you soon,” said the man. He smirked slyly then turned and left, Curtis and Malcolm following after him.

  The doctor shut and locked the door. He stared at Jaden. He was young, in his early thirties, Jaden guessed. He had light brown hair, a square face, and wore a frown.

  “My name is Sam.” He had a soothing voice. Sam examined Jaden’s right hand with extreme delicacy. “He broke a few fingers.” Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. “Can you keep a secret, Jaden?” he asked.

  Jaden did not respond. He shut his eyes and tried to embrace the pain, hoping it would overpower him and force him to faint.

  “I have morphine. I have to give you some to make you sleep. The rest of the team won’t get here for at least thirty minutes, and I can’t, in good conscious, prolong your suffering. Promise me you won’t tell him.”

  Jaden nodded into his pillow. “I promise,” he slurred.

  Sam pulled a syringe and vial from a drawer. He loaded the syringe with the drug, then found a vein in Jaden’s right arm.

  Jaden closed his eyes and welcomed sleep, hoping the doctor had given him so much he would never wake.

  But wake he did, lying face down on the same hospital bed. His right palm was set in a thick, hard cast which covered his wrist and forearm. Three of his fingers had splints and bandages. His hands were incredibly sore, like the rest of his body, especially his back.

  “You’re awake?” Sam asked.

  Jaden looked at him.

  “You’ll need to stay in bed for a while longer. I had to stitch some of the gashes in your back, and any kind of stretching or movement could rip them. Your hands are a different matter. I casted both, so you can’t use them for at least a week, then we have to hope the bones heal quickly before the joints stiffen. You’re young, so I think you’ll have the full use of them soon. I’m afraid the scarring will be permanent, the cuts were too deep.”

  Jaden swallowed. “It hurts,” he moaned.

  “I know. But he’s coming to see you today, and if I gave you anything for the pain, you’d get drowsy and he would know.” Sam pulled up a chair and sat down so he could face Jaden. “Take my advice and do what he says. He doesn’t feel remorse or guilt and will do this again if he thinks he needs to.”

  So the doctor did pity him. “Help me out of here,” Jaden pleaded.

  Sam shook his head. “I can’t do that. You have no idea how dangerous you would be out there. It’s safer for everyone if you stay here.”

  “Please!”

  “No,” said Sam.

  The man, who still hadn’t introduced himself, came a few minutes later. He sat in Sam’s chair, facing Jaden. He wore a smug smile and a gray suit. “How do you feel today?” he asked.

  “Peachy,” Jaden replied, his sarcasm compromised by his shaking voice.

  “Sam says you won’t be able to use your hands for some time. I guess you’ll have to get creative.” He chuckled to himself.

  “Well,” Jaden began, his head groaning in protest, “I guess that means you’ll have to wipe my ass for me.”

  The man’s smile faltered. He sat forward and grabbed Jaden’s hair and pulled his head back as far as it would go. “Are you testing me, slave?”

  Jaden felt himself smile, though he didn’t want to.

  “You should be careful,” Jaden heard himself say in a voice that wasn’t entirely his own.

  “Are you threatening me? You can’t do anything to me,” said the man, amused.

  “No one is that impenetrable. You’re wandering into dangerous territory, old man. You can’t control me.” Jaden didn’t know why he was even speaking. The man looked ready to snap Jaden’s head off his neck.

  The man released Jaden’s hair, and his head fell back to the bed. He glanced sideways at the man to see him frowning.

  “It seems as though we have more work to do.”

  Jaden felt his mouth open and heard himself say: “That will be a mistake, old man.”

  The man eyed Jaden with skepticism. Jaden turned his face away, burying it into his pillow so he could muffle a laugh. But nothing was funny. Jaden’s body was broken, his pride damaged. Both his hands were in casts, immovable, and in a great amount of pain, like his stitched back. Why the laughter and brazen words? This man made it clear he could and would do anything to hurt Jaden.

  When Jaden looked back, the man was gone.

  twelve

  As soon as Dr. Sam gave the okay, Jaden was back in his cell. He ambled to the observation mirror, behind which he was sure someone was watching. His movements were rigid—bending or stretching wasn’t a good idea.

  With his hands in casts, the everyday chores became challenging. Testing his limits was his first task. He was locked away because the people here wanted his skill, so it would be foolish for the old man to take it from him. Was it possible Jaden could use psychokinesis when alone?

  A test then. Jaden searched his cell for any free, moveable object. His eyes landed on his pillow. Simple enough. But he didn’t move it. What if the collar would send a shock through him? It would send him to the ground again, and he may land on his back, not be able to get up and then—

  Don’t be afraid. You can do it.

  Jaden couldn’t stomach the thought of additional humiliation. The old man had him cornered. Either he could use his ability, or he would have to let nature take its course and wet himself, eat like a dog, and suffer as Malcolm or Curtis hosed him like a wounded animal.

  Stop being a coward and do it.

  Yes, he would have to. One way or another, he’d face some kind of pain. He had to test the boundaries. Take a deep breath.

  Jaden focused his mind around the pillow, feeling its edges, its softness, its weight. So far, so good. Squinting his left eye, out of habit rather than necessity, he lifted the pillow a foot above the ground. Relief spread through his body. Having control over something allowed him some self-respect. At least he could take care of himself without compromising the little dignity he had.

  His stomach rumbled. For the past few days he had been fed intravenously, and his stomach, not used to being deprived of food, protested. Dalton never let him go hungry, keeping him on a steady regime of meals high in carbohydrates. In fact, Dalton made sure Jaden ate everything put in front of him. The change in management brought a new set of routines: torture, humiliation, now hunger.

  Jaden paced, determined not to lie down and worry. He’d been lying in bed for days, and didn’t want his mind to wander. Obsessing about how to combat the old man and his sadistic ways only left him feeling helpless.

  Hours passed, food did not come. His stomach changed from mild discomfort, to determinedly angry, aching with emptiness. Meals were supposed to be an around the clock thing. What was the hold up? Wasn’t there a kitchen here?

  He sat gingerly, keeping his back straight to avoid strain. He wondered what his back looked like. Probably a crisscrossed pattern of scars that would serve as a constant reminder of his fight, which he had lost.

  “No one is my master,” he whispered to himself. Yet he sat helpless and hungry, with two broken hands, waiting to be fed. Like a wounded lion in a cage.

  It wasn’t long before a new sensation occupied his mind. While he didn’t need his hands to move things, he did need them for simpler tasks, like scratching. The skin on his forearms crawled with a nagging, unpleasant and unbearable itching. He rubbed the casts together, hoping for some kind of friction, yet the itching continued. Nothing could alleviate the itch. No sharp objects, nothing with which he could crack his casts.

  The thrumming sound of the elevator
brought him back to his miserable reality.

  Jaden shivered when he saw the old man on the elevator, a tray of food in his hands. He stood and reversed instinctively. The greater the distance between them, the better.

  “Not flippant today?” the man asked.

  Was this a question he wanted answered, or was he proving a point? Jaden hated himself for wondering or caring. His stomach squirmed, and it wasn’t hunger this time. Maybe he should answer, just to be safe.

  “No,” he said. His voice trembled.

  “Are you hungry?”

  Jaden nodded.

  “Well then, come and get it.” The man offered the tray, as if expecting Jaden to pick it up.

  The tray held a large sandwich, a bag of potato chips, and a glass of water. His stomach urged him forward. When there were a few feet between the two of them, Jaden stopped. If he picked up the tray with PK, would the man punish him? Better safe than on the floor. Jaden extended his plaster-covered hands and lifted the tray.

  The man watched Jaden with cold eyes, no trace of a smile on his grim face. Jaden backed away with the tray on his arms, his heart hammering against his ribcage. He set it on the floor, then he lowered himself into a cross-legged position, his back stretching, causing him to groan involuntarily.

  He wanted to eat, but how? The man watched, and Jaden was sure if he used PK to lift the sandwich to his mouth, the collar would shock him. He couldn’t use his hands. Jaden’s stomach grumbled.

  “What a pickle,” the man said. “There you sit, hungry as can be, with the power to levitate your food to your open mouth, and yet you cannot. You must find that annoying.”

  There was a ringing in Jaden’s ears and his face flushed red. He ground his teeth and stared at the sandwich.

  “Does that make you angry?” the man asked, chuckling.

  Jaden took a few deep breaths and glanced at him, remembering his third rule with Dalton: never show emotion. “No,” he answered.

  “No?”

  “No.”

  The man raised his eyebrows. “I see. Are you at least going to try to eat it?”

  Jaden shook his head.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a trick.”

  The man laughed. “You think I’d trick you?”

  “Yes,” Jaden said.

  “You know you have to eat it to continue using PK, which is ultimately what I want you to do. If you don’t fill your high caloric need, it won’t work. So you see, it’s in my best interest for you to eat that sandwich.”

  Jaden’s stomach grumbled again.

  “I can’t unless you leave,” Jaden said.

  The man kneeled to see into Jaden’s eyes. “Oh?”

  “I can’t pick it up, and you’ll use the collar against me if I do it the other way.”

  “Are you sure about that?” he asked.

  “No, but I’m not willing to risk it.” He was sure, but didn’t want to say.

  “Mmm. Clever boy. So you won’t eat it until I leave?”

  “Right,” Jaden said. He hoped he would leave right away, but the man crossed his arms and watched Jaden more intently.

  “What will you do if I stay here?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “And if I command you to eat it?”

  There was only one other way to eat food. He’d have to eat it off the floor. Like an animal. That’s what he wanted. To dehumanize him. To put him in his place, to demean him.

  “There’s no way for me to do it,” Jaden lied.

  The man grinned. “No way at all?”

  “No,” Jaden said. He looked at the sandwich. It was roast beef with cheese, lettuce, bell peppers, onions, and pickles.

  “That’s too bad,” the man said. He lifted the tray and walked to the elevator. “Perhaps you’re not hungry enough. I’ll come back,” he added seeing Jaden’s expression. “Though next time it’ll be harder.”

  The elevator rose out of sight, taking the food with it.

  Jaden was curled in a ball, laying on the floor, his arms around his furiously empty stomach. It felt like days since the man had been in his cell with a sandwich. He knew it hadn’t been, that maybe it was only a few hours ago, but the hunger had developed into a separate personality. It controlled his every thought.

  Then the lights went out, plunging him into darkness.

  Hunger kept him from sleeping.

  He stared at the small elevator alcove.

  There were sixty seconds to a minute, sixty minutes to an hour. 360 seconds to six minutes. He’d block it off, keep track with his toes. Counting kept his mind off his stomach. It made him concentrate. He was determined to know how long they let him sleep. Since there was no sun or moon, he had never determined how long he was allowed to rest. An hour? Twelve? They probably flexed the time, to throw him off.

  Three hours passed, and still no elevator. The lights were dark but for a single florescent bulb that hummed a dim blue glow.

  Three more hours and Jaden had to use the toilet. He couldn’t imagine why, since it had been so long since he ate or drank anything. He kept counting as he took care of business.

  At exactly seven hours, the lights came on. The elevator did not descend. His arms itched again, and hunger consumed his thoughts. Still counting, now out of habit, the numbers were like a song trapped in his head, the chorus repeating in an infinite loop.

  Finally, two hours after the lights came on, the elevator lowered, bringing the old man, wearing a different suit, carrying a tray.

  Jaden stood, his body shaking in anticipation. The aroma of the meal made him impatient. He wanted to run at the man and steal the food from him. Scrambled eggs with cheese, buttered toast, orange juice, and sausage. Jaden couldn’t stop staring at the plate of food. Steam rose from the eggs.

  “How did you sleep?” the old man asked.

  Jaden shook his head.

  “I knew you’d be hungry. Would you like your breakfast now?” he asked.

  Jaden nodded fervently.

  The man grinned and held the tray for Jaden to take. Jaden walked forward and, taking it clumsily, set it on the floor. He got on his knees, then leaned his weight on his elbows and bent his neck to eat the food off the floor.

  Before he got his lips around the eggs, a wind-sucking pain knocked him away. He grunted and clutched his stomach. The man was rabid, and raised a rod above his head. Jaden covered his face with his plastered arms out of instinct.

  The man beat Jaden’s side, stinging his skin and muscles, then kicked him in the stomach until Jaden brought his knees to his chest. The man growled in rage: “Did I give you permission to eat?” He hit Jaden’s legs, then grabbed Jaden’s ear. “Answer me!”

  “No!” Jaden cried, stretching his neck back as the man twisted his ear.

  “How dare you!” he screamed, releasing Jaden’s ear, slapping him across the face with the back of his hand. Jaden fell and crawled away. The old man kicked Jaden’s side then stood on his neck, pinning him to the ground.

  Jaden shook, he couldn’t stop tears from streaming down his face to the floor. He was terrified to move, to breathe too loudly.

  “You don’t do anything unless I tell you, you understand?” the man asked.

  “Y-Yes,” Jaden said at once, his voice cracking.

  The man removed his foot from Jaden’s neck. He grabbed a handful of his hair, and a fistful of Jaden’s shirt in the other, and dragged him to the food.

  “Are you listening to me?” the man asked, shaking Jaden’s head.

  “Yes!”

  “Stop crying,” he snarled. “I don’t want to see you’re damned tears again, do you understand?”

  That was something he couldn’t control. Jaden tried to wipe his eyes, but the moment he lifted his left, casted hand, the man hit his back with the rod again. A fresh wave of hot pain rolled over his back, into his organs.

  “What did I just say? What are you trying to do?” he yelled.

  “I was trying to wipe my
face!” Jaden said.

  “You disobeyed me again?”

  “No, I’m trying to stop crying!” Jaden said, sobbing now, every part of his body sore again.

  “Then do it!”

  Jaden tried to gain control of himself. The man pulled him by his hair, and dragged him to a wall, pushing him against it, his face twisted with rage. “Stop crying!” he screamed.

  Jaden could not. Every part of him ached and trembled. His heart beat fast.

  The man raised his hand again, Jaden blocked his face with his arms “I’m sorry!”

  The rod hit him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Jaden dropped his arms to his middle. He tried to breathe again, and the old man took advantage of his unprotected face. He slapped Jaden hard across the left side, then backhanded him across his right cheek.

  Instinct couldn’t be reasoned with, and it wasn’t logical. His mind sought defense. Like every time before, the electric shock collar, connected to his spine and thus his nervous system, sent a powerful pulse of agony through his body, making him scream and crumble to the floor.

  When it ended, and he stopped shrieking, he heard the man laughing. Jaden rolled on his stomach, his face on the floor. He’d stopped crying after all. His face stung, his back and stomach throbbed, and his legs felt like they’d been ripped open with dull knives.

  And the man laughed.

  “It’s such a part of you, isn’t it? You can’t help but try to use it against me. Oh, if Dalton could see you now. His favorite pet, defeated at the foot of his new master.”

  Jaden shook, like he was having convulsions. He wanted to regain control. He was hyperventilating, too afraid to make any movements.

  “Relax,” the man commanded. “Take a deep breath.”

  Jaden tried.

  “Take a deep breath,” he warned.

  With all the strength he had left, Jaden took a deep breath, then another, bringing his breathing to normal.

  “Now,” the man said calmly, all rage gone, “crawl over here and eat this food.”