He was drowning.

Drowning, drowning, drowning.

Freezing water filled his lungs, and he thrashed wildly in the murky depths. Suddenly, a pale, glowing hand emerged from the gloom, followed by an arm, followed by a person. Through his blurry sight, he discerned the figure of the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He saw her amber eyes, her wild mane of coal black hair streaming behind her, and her ghostly ivory hand stretched out to him. Her hair snaked around her neck, weaving and intertwining together. As she came to a halt, her mane billowed around her face, forming an inky cloud that framed her honeyed eyes. He saw her mouthing the same word over and over, bubbles bursting from her lips Slowly, he made out what she was saying.

“Toby…. TOBY!” she cried. His name. He hadn’t heard that name in a long time. Now, they just called him P0119. They didn’t understand him, did they? No, they didn’t. They never did and they never would. They were wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. But she knew his name. She must understand him. She must care for him. She must. As he summoned his last shreds of energy, he reached out and took her outstretched hand.

It was disturbingly cold, like ice had encased his hand. The ice crept up his arm, piercing his flesh. Screams ripped through his throat as it clenched his heart its ruthless, frozen grip. He felt himself yanked out of the water, and then the girl’s flawless face materialized in front of him, a twisted smile stretching her red lips. With a flick of her wrist, the relentless cold retreated, replaced by a strange burning in his hand. Gasping, he curled into a ball. Salt-filled tears cascaded from his blank, coffee-brown eyes. He looked down at his hand, horrified to find that his flesh had blackened and died. The black spread up his arms, filling his veins with poison. As his eyes began to close, the girl’s golden eyes faded to a bland yellow, and her ebony hair blurred together into a shapeless mass of black. Her glowing skin then dulled to an unremarkable white. She vanished from his sight, drifting up and up and up into the light.

Meanwhile, the scientists peered through the one-way glass and into the padded room.

“Patient 0119, permanent resident of Room 226. Active schizophrenia, hallucinations and psychosis.” the doctor intoned, lazily watching P0119’s listless form. He then stalked off into the hall, a team of enthusiastic, chattering interns trailing behind him.