My Control

Chapter Three

Perry felt consciousness return before he had opened his eyes. Judging by the sounds around him, he knew that Josh and he were alone again. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

Josh sat in front of his head calmly, one knee bent to his chest and his elbow propped on it. He was studying Perry curiously.

"Not broken yet, butterfly?" Josh asked.

Perry struggled to think of other ways to trigger Josh's different personalities. He still wasn't sure how many Josh had, or even what their names were.

"I don't break easily," Perry managed to mumble.

Josh snorted derisively. "That's what Josh said before he put the knife to your neck. He'd only just had it to his own wrists." Josh turned his wrists out.

Ugly slash marks ran up and down and across the pale, sallow skin. Old burn scars and scratch marks were still left, and new burn scars joined the cuts around the wrists.

Perry shifted and immediately felt the soreness on his right forearm. The soreness at least suggested mild burns and nothing else.

"So quiet today, butterfly. Last night you screamed for us," Josh went on, pushing his head closer to Perry's.

"Last night you injected me with illegal drugs without my consent, Jessica," Perry snapped. "Wouldn't you have screamed?"

Josh raised an eyebrow. "Why no. I would've enjoyed the high."

"I don't get into that bullshit."

"Of course you don't. After all, how is heroine or meth or crack any different than liquor?"

Perry's head shot up at that. Too quickly his head came up that the room spun again.

"How do you know that?" he asked quietly.

"You don't think I saw your nametag? Or the name on your coat? I know your name, butterfly. I just don't think you deserve one."

It occurred to Perry that he was having a conversation with a psycho and he really ought to be trying to leave.

"Jesus…can't you just let me go?"

Josh trailed greasy fingers over Perry's sweaty forehead. "But what fun would that be? Josh wants to let you go. He was coming out of a bender that night; just absolutely terrified, he was. He wants to let you go."

"Josh?" Perry asked. "Josh, please let me go!"

"He can't hear you," Josh went on. "And if I have my way, that pathetic excuse of humanity won't be coming out again. You see, it's all very simple. He just doesn't have the strength or energy to fight his own disease, his own addiction."

To his horror, Perry felt tears stinging the corners of his eyes. He kicked at the ground and pounded his fists into the floor.

"God damn it, just let me out of here…"

Josh laughed again, a cold laughter that sent chills racing down Perry's spine. "No. You see, when I'm in control, you're a lot more fun to play with, butterfly. And I like my toys intact and alive and breathing. You're a lot more fun that way."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Nothing really. Why, is there something wrong with you?" Josh stood briefly and walked away.

Perry knocked his forehead gently into the cool concrete that reeked of human waste.

Josh return and slipped a bottle of tepid water to Perry's mouth. "Drink up, butterfly. Can't have you passing out before the fun really begins tonight."

Perry spit the water back out. He'd rather die of dehydration then let some psycho use him as cool new toy.

"Come now," Josh admonished. "I don't want to have to keep you drugged all the time. It's better to let you stew in your own juices first and then give them to you. Now drink up."

Perry clamped his mouth shut.

"Have it your way then." Josh stood and retrieved a black messenger bag from beyond the door.

Feeling a glimmer of hope, Perry struggled to sit up. Then he started to attempt to get to his feet.

But not before Josh had come back and knocked him back to the floor. "You're the one making this a lot harder than it has to be, butterfly. You've got to just stop fighting. No one's going to save you now."

Even as the drugs began to swim through his system, Perry's hazy mind registered that Josh was right.

Now calmer and moving a lot slower, Perry felt the pop-top of the water bottle hit his mouth again. Uncaring of who gave it to him, he sucked from it greedily and didn't care that it was warm water.

"That's a good butterfly."

Somewhere in his dim mind, Perry knew he should be trying to fight more. And when Josh cut the cable ties from around his wrists, Perry knew he should make an attempt to escape.

But when he attempted to get to his feet, he only managed in falling back down again because of his still-bound ankles.

Josh laughed somewhere around him. "See the lights now, butterfly? And they sing pretty too if you know how to listen." He wound the plastic cable tie around Perry's wrists so that his hands were bound in front instead. "See what you get for being good, butterfly? Now it's easier to play."

Perry felt his head rocking from side to side as he saw the flash of a blade again. "Nnnn…no, god please stop it," he groaned, trying to jerk away.

"Now, butterfly…we've been through this. If you're good, you get rewards. If you're bad, you get punished and then I do it anyway," Josh replied calmly as Perry sluggishly on the floor like a dying fish. "I know you must need to go to the bathroom by now."

And the most basic instinct won out as Perry heaved a sob and Josh knelt carefully to Perry's back.

"I've got to cut your wings off now, butterfly, so you can't fly away." Josh dragged the knife down the back of Perry's t-shirt and pushed the fabric away. "You've got strong wings, I don't know how long this will take."

Perry clamped his mouth shut as the pain dragged down his shoulder blade. He couldn't even fight at the bonds around his wrists now. The pain stopped for a moment, but then started anew just beside of it.

"Yes, very strong wings, butterfly." Josh dragged the knife down the doctor's back again and again. "I might have to even come back and burn the wings when I'm done trying to cut them away. I can't have you flying off before I have company. And I still have to go make my rounds."

Perry felt tears sliding down his cheeks at the abrupt pain and also at the knowledge that Josh might torch the fresh wounds later.

Might…he probably will, Perry thought dimly as he began biting his lip to keep from screaming.

Josh frowned. "You're not making a sound, butterfly. So quiet I can hear your wings dying." He slipped the knife easily down the man's back, watching the blood rise against the slightly-tanned skin. "Scream for me, butterfly."

Perry shook his head desperately, and couldn't decide if it was Josh's voice he heard or if the lights were trying to scare him into submission once again. He couldn't give up this time; he just couldn't.

"If you don't scream, butterfly, I don't know that you're feeling it," Josh went on lazily and put the knife down. He touched the fresh cuts on Perry's back gingerly, watching the man draw up in pain. "I think they're still there."

Perry dimly heard himself begging no.

Josh brought out the lighter and began running the flame against the new cuts. Some of the bleeding stopped.

Perry bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and he struggled to concentrate on something other then the searing pain of fire along his back.

And then it came back in full force when he tasted the blood on his lips. Perry stiffened as a scream ripped itself from his throat.

"That's my butterfly," Josh said in a pleased, soothing voice, but he didn't take the flame away from Perry's back.

Feeling more broken now then he ever had, Perry screamed until his throat became hoarse and raw. The sedated pain he'd felt before turned to a panicked sickness and he vomited what little water he'd taken in on the floor.

"Shh, butterfly, it's okay," Josh said calmly.

Perry only broke into choked sobs on the dusty concrete floor.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

JD flipped the chart closed and walked back to the nurse's station. The temporary attending that Dr. Kelso had brought in was an idiot by anyone's standards. Taking a glance at the clock, JD breathed a sigh of relief and went to collect his things and punch out for the night.

Turk stood in the locker room and looked at his friend. "You heard anything, man?"

JD shook his head. "Nothing. Jesus, how many crackhouses could possibly be in this town anyway?"

"JD, the police know what they're doing. They'll find him." Turk prevented from saying it would probably be his body they found.

JD saw the unspoken statement and frowned as he stood at his open locker. "He's still alive."

Turk didn't reply right away, as if searching for the right words. "Carla thinks so too."

"But you don't."

"I don't know what to think. The man's always been a jerk, dude. What am I supposed to think?"

"You're not glad he's gone, are you?"

"Of course not. I don't know if he's still alive or not, man." Turk put a hand on JD's shoulder. "But the police know what to do."

"I don't guess you know how Jordan and Jack are holding up?"

"I heard she dropped Jack off at her mother's house, and I don't think he's old enough anyway to know what's going on. I don't know about her. Ask Elliot."

JD nodded and closed his locker. He slipped on his jacket as he walked out of the room and searched for Elliot.

A flash of blonde hair and white coat had him running towards the elevator. "Hey, Elliot, hold up!"

Elliot poked her head out of the elevator door. She looked tired and drawn, but otherwise normal.

"Hey, JD," she said. "You holding up alright?"

JD rolled his shoulders. "I guess. Listen, do you know how Jordan's holding up at all?"

Elliot let the doors close first. "I went to see her last night. She seems to be okay, but I don't think she's got much hope."

"And Jack?"

"Jack wasn't there. She took him to her mother's house."

JD nodded as the elevator dinged and Elliot stepped off.

"JD," she said, holding the door open. "Just…just don't get your hopes up, okay?"

With a hard stare from normally clear eyes, JD punched the door closed pointedly.

Elliot sighed and backed away as the doors shut.

JD sat on his scooter with a sigh. He ran his hands over his face and stared at the sky. The ambient lights of the hospital and nearby streetlights drowned out the stars somewhat. Only a few shone through, and the moon was gone.

JD pinched the bridge of his nose and thought hard. His faith in the police wasn't exactly up there on his top ten strongest feelings. Running the information over in his head again, he remembered the patient was Josh Andrews.

Mild withdrawal psychosis, presenting later with deeper problems…twitching, nausea…

Turning up nothing, JD struggled to remember the conversation in the on-call room before he'd walked out. Hadn't the man said something about saving someone from the fire?

JD frowned and glanced at his watch. He still had about an hour before the library closed. Pushing his helmet on, JD started his scooter and drove off.

The library was quiet and nearly deserted when JD entered. The librarian seemed to look at his scrubs and tut at him sympathetically as if he were burning midnight oil to study.

Walking in quietly, JD headed for the history section to view newspapers. Not sure how far back he'd have to go, he brought a bottle of water out to hide between his feet and he started rolling through back-issues of the Sherman Oaks Tribune.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A hand on his shoulder about forty-five minutes later made him jump with tired eyes to the kindly librarian.

"I'm sorry, son…but we're closing," she said quietly even though most of the patrons had left.

JD sighed and rubbed his eyes. He glared at the roller. "I don't guess you've lived here long, have you?"

The librarian smiled as JD collected his things. "All my life, son."

JD frowned in thought. "Do you know if there was a big fire sometime in the past ten years?"

"The old apartment building near the hospital burned down about four years ago, if that helps."

His head came up. That sounded like his apartment building, if not Dr. Cox's. "Did a lot of people die in it?"

"Why, yes," the librarian replied. "The firemen just couldn't put the fire out fast enough, and the building collapsed. A couple of firemen died, some children."

The ramblings began to make sense. "Can I get that issue of the paper?"

The librarian debated. She would miss her show if she stayed. She took another glance to the young man's face. He was pale and drawn, and looked as if he hadn't slept in a few days. The desperation was nearly radiating off of him.

"Of course," the librarian finally said as she sat down to roll through the papers herself.

JD could've kissed the woman. "Thank you so much."

The librarian nodded as she found the year she was looking for and tried to remember the month of that awful fire.

"You work at Sacred Heart, do you?" she asked absently as she stared at the news.

"Yes. I do."

"Then you would've heard about that doctor being kidnapped…that must've been awful."

JD's throat tightened uncomfortably. "Yes," he said, but when it came out as a squeak, he cleared his throat. "Yes, uh…the doctor who was abducted was my mentor."

"Oh dear, I'm sorry," the librarian said as she found the issue she was looking for.

"The police are doing everything they can."

"Here we are," the librarian said and printed out the article about the fire. "They haven't found him yet?"

"No," JD said as he took the issue and dug in his jacket pocket for the proper change for the copy.

"On the house, dear," the librarian said with a wink. "I hope they find your friend."

JD smiled and hugged the woman tightly, the article clutched in his palm. "Thank you so much again." He grabbed his backpack and ran out the door.

XXXXXXXXXXX

It was true. No one was coming to save him. Did anyone even care that the emotionally-crippled narcissist was gone? Didn't anyone notice that the interns were in a better mood without someone yelling all the time?

Hell, Newbie should've cared. Why hadn't someone found him yet? Why hadn't Newbie cared to look?

A dry cough escaped his lips. He turned bleary, dazed eyes to Josh, who looked back at him with glittering-green irises.

"Butterfly's awake," Josh said, crouching down to Perry's face.

Perry only looked at him in silence. He hurt everywhere. He was thirsty, and hungry.

"It's okay, butterfly. I'll make it stop for you." Josh drew out a needle and wiped it down with something that smelled faintly of alcohol. Perry didn't fight this time, and nearly turned his elbow out where bruises had started to form with the unprofessional jabs that Josh continued to give him.

Josh jabbed him again and Perry felt the drugs circle his system slowly. The lights grew brighter and began to sing. The pain of his back and wrists began to fade. His heart slowed a little and no longer pounded quite so hard.

Even as Perry looked around, he could've sworn he saw Newbie standing above him with that over-eager smile and laughing eyes.

Perry lifted both hands up as if to grab the image, but he felt nothing. And even with that, his hope slipped further away. Tilting his head lazily to the window, he saw the stars again and wondered if they would talk to him too.

Even if someone wasn't going to save him, it was nice to imagine at least that they cared to try and find him in the end of all things.

And that night, the stars did begin to sing.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

JD glared through the article. All of Josh Andrews' ramblings made sense now. He sat back on the couch, rubbing the palm of his hand over his forehead. It wouldn't help the police find Dr. Cox any faster, but JD began to think he knew what kind of animal they might be dealing with.

The article was short and to the point. The apartment building across the street from JD's had burned down four years ago.

Nine adults, seven children, and three firemen had died when the building collapsed. One of the firemen had been named Daniel Andrews, aged 64.

JD scrubbed his face with his hands. If the connection rang true, Joshua Andrews had been through a traumatic experience in which he thought he was the reason for the deaths. If that much was true, then chances are the man was indeed psychotic. With the drug use on top of it, it was a miracle that the man didn't simply crawl into a hole and die.

JD ran to his room and pulled down a medical text on disassociative disorders. Something would have to click for him. Something would make it happen.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Across the street, and approximately eight-thirty that night, Josh Andrews walked out of the broken down shell of a building to make his nightly deals with his clients.

Continues with Chapter 4