Chapter 3: Subject 276
Follows on from my Chapter 2 (The Doctor). Gets dark here :(
Subject 276.
Physical information:
- 3'3
- 35 pounds
- 7 years old
- Male
Preexisting conditions:
- Malnourished
- Poor hygiene
- Existing wounds from closed living conditions and lack of sanitation
- Slight bruising around neck, head, legs and chest
- Possible UTI
- No STDs
- Severe anxiety and PTSD
- Selectively mute
Lab notes
23 Jan
- Subject attempted to escape via picking the lock on his cage. Cage door now electrified. Didn't deter subject.
- Subject reacts angrily to experiments on dog subjects. Multiple attempts to break out of his cage despite electrified door.
- Stopped only when threat of severely harming a dog present. Will use this ongoing as disciplinary measure.
24 Jan
- Subject appears to have nightmares, relating to existing trauma.
- Subject given two doses of phencyclidine to see if trauma will be enhanced through controlled hallucinatory state.
1st controlled period- 9am-11am
- Subject blindfolded
- Mentally placed subject in basement with attacker.
- Subject urinated, shallow breath, vomiting, screaming, crying. Unclear what the trauma he is experiencing consists of.
- 'No', 'stop' and 'please' spoken.
2nd controlled period- 1pm-3pm
- Subject blindfolded
- Mentally placed subject in basement with attacker.
- Subject responds to being hit over the face and chest with passivity.
- Will tense body repeatedly as a reflex even in sedated hallucinatory state.
- Subject can withstand great amounts of pain with no verbalisation, including burning, electrocution and whipping.
3rd controlled period- 5pm-8pm
- Subject blindfolded
- Mentally placed subject in basement with attacker.
- Subject responds to sexual contact aggressively, will
Rick slammed the book shut after biting a small hole in his cheek, the metallic tang of blood staining his palette. He tried to push out the mental image of his Morty, even younger and more vulnerable than he was now, being abused and threatened in a state of drugged panic and fear for this sick fuck's useless experiments.
Rick felt the world spinning, his stomach dropping, his blood running cold. He had no idea it had been this bad. This was on par, or worse, than what himself and his friends had experienced as adults in the throws of war. A child had no hope of coping with this kind of sadism.
The nagging thought that he'd never be able to fix this, that he couldn't begin to make up for the horrors Morty had endured, was accompanied by seething rage at the doctor and at Jerry. But most of all, Rick was deeply concerned about Morty's health. He forced himself to open the book again and skim through the pages, catching glimpses of recipes for dangerous, experimental drugs. These experiments, the side effects, the injuries, could have had a lasting impact on Morty's physical health, let alone mental.
Liver damage from sedatives, cancer from a constant barrage of unapproved chemical concoctions, tumours, ulcers, brain damage. Rick swallowed impending vomit as he tried to push out the reality that things he wouldn't inject into rats had been poured into his Grandson. He needed to get him to a hospital.
Morty watched nervously from across the room as the colour continued to drain from Rick's face. He wondered if he should comfort him, but he also feared that Rick was disgusted with him because of the things in the book. Morty knew he was dirty and bad, but he wasn't sure if Rick felt the same. He hoped he didn't. He hadn't asked for these things. Morty pulled on his hands nervously, wishing his puppy was unfrozen. He had to be prepared to run if Rick turned against him. The suspense was unbearable as Rick continued to flick through the pages Morty knew contained graphic descriptions of his sexual and physical assaults.
He looked down self-consciously at his wet pants, trying to block out the horrible memories from the book as he covered himself. Morty felt so ashamed that his Grandfather had to relive these things. He held his head in hands, curling into a ball. He was bad, he was nothing.
Rick stalled on a page that had diagrams of an electrical circuit. The heading had him frozen, desperately hoping the conclusion he'd drawn was wrong.
CLOSING NEURAL PATHWAYS FOR SPEECH WITH CONDITIONING (BASELINE EXPERIMENT)
04/08
- Placed electrical nodes on subject
- Placed first dog on table, subject never seen dog before
- Commanded to speak, subject did not comply
- 200 volts applied to dog
- Commanded to speak again
- Subject complied, full sentence spoken
- 200 volts to subject
- Commanded subject to speak, clear threat to dog
- Subject complied, full sentence spoken
- 250 volts to subject
- Commanded to speak, clear threat to dog
- Subject complied, 3/8 words correct
- 400 volts to dog, dog died quickly
- Subject distressed
- Explained subject's mistake responsible for death
- Subject understood
- New dog, also never before seen
- Commanded to speak, clear threat to dog
- Subject complied, full sentence spoken
- 250 volts to subject x 2
- Subject wet himself
- Commanded to speak, clear threat to dog
- Subject unable to comply, 1/8 words
- Threatened to electrocute dog, subject distressed
- Subject unable to comply within time limit, 0/8 words spoken
- 400 volts to dog, dog died quickly
- Subject vomited, too distressed to continue.
- Will repeat.
Rick's shaking fingers discovered pages and pages of his same experiment over days. He stood up and violently threw the book across the room. This was why Morty was unable to speak. He physically could not. It was a miracle he got out the words he had.
'GOD DAMN IT YOU SON OF A BITCH!' Rick screamed, punching a hole in the wall.
Morty immediately jumped and fled behind the couch, hiding and waiting to see who Rick was mad at. It was him, it had to be. Morty knew this was all too good to last; it was only a matter of time before it fell apart. He waited for the heavy stomping of Rick's feet, but instead they grew further away. Morty ran through the kitchen, coming out into the hallway and peering around a large vase.
He jumped as Rick hurtled the doctor to the floor. Morty wrapped his hands over his own mouth to stop a gasp from escaping as Dr. Fletchinder smashed into a thousand tiny pieces. Rick stomped on the fragments, screaming and cursing. After a short while, the doctor was nothing more than melted blood and tissue. Rick dropped to the floor, punching the carpet, tearing holes in it as if ripping apart the fragments of this person would undo what he'd done to Morty.
Rick suddenly stopped as he realised the futility of what he was doing, his yells becoming sobs. Morty was shocked. He'd never seen Rick cry. Morty walked nervously into the hall, preparing for Rick to round on him next, call him disgusting, tell him he didn't want to see Morty, tell him he was leaving. His Grandfather looked up at him, tears streaming down his tired face. Rick's grey hairs stuck out like live wires, his hands shook and bled from the force of beating the doctor into the carpet. Morty felt frightened, like he was nearing a wounded, wild animal.
'Mo-Morty.' Rick choked, 'I'm s-so sorry, sorry M-Morty. I'm so s-sorry.'
His Grandfather wept into his hands as Morty rushed over, climbing into the gap between Rick's elbows and the floor. He just barely managed to lift Rick into a sitting position, hugging him around the neck. It was bittersweet. Morty was incredibly relieved Rick was angry with the doctor and not him, but simultaneously disturbed at having seen his Grandfather rip someone apart limb from limb. Now Rick was in tears- a state of shock and sadness Morty had never seen, which could only mean he cared deeply for Morty and understood how painful his past had been. He wondered how much more Rick could take of what was in the notebook- if he would leave because Morty's past was too hard.
For now, Morty decided he was happy to be here with a person who would stand up for him. He tried to be brave, and show his Grandfather the same comfort he'd been shown. He felt Rick's shaking start to subside as Morty nuzzled into the nape of his neck.
'We'll g-get past this Mor-Morty. We'll get past t-this. It's okay. I-it's okay. We're okay.' Rick kept repeating these words, trembling as he sat back on his knees to embrace Morty.
What felt like an age passed, with Rick recognising he was talking to himself too- trying to convince himself that like Morty, he could get past the horrors of this own past. Morty had no flask, Morty had no family or friends, Morty had experienced loss and pain on par, if not greater, than what Rick had been subjected to. But here he was; showing love, willing to trust Rick despite it all.
In that moment Rick not only felt a deep kinship with Morty, but admired him immensely. If he could survive the doctor, he could survive anything.