Nothing felt real.
The chill of the icy glass pane against his cheek, the medicinal fluids being pumped into his veins, the warmth of the heated air against his partly-exposed back - it felt so artificial. It was like there was some sort of barrier around the part of his brain that perceived touch, not allowing bodily signals to pass through.
It had taken Joseph and Juliette nearly a week to find human contact. For days that seemed to drag on like decades, they'd wandered aimlessly around in a heavily wooded area, desperately hoping to run into someone - anyone. As it had turned out, the facility they'd been trapped in had been situated in the middle of nowhere, hidden deep within the confines of a vast coniferous forest. Finally, after ambling around in complete disorientation for five days, they'd managed to stumble upon a hunter's cabin. The three men occupying it had been frightened to see two scorched, bare-back teenagers crawl out of the bush, to say the very least. Eventually, though, they'd come around, and provided the duo with various canned foods and clothing. The clothing had been a welcome gift for Joseph, but the food.. He barely succeeded to stomach a spoonful. Despite not having had a morsel of real food in months, the thought of a meal had sickened him inexplicably.
After two days had meandered by, the hunters drove the pair out to the nearest town, cutting their outing short. From there, they'd managed to contact the office back at Beata, who immediately sent staff to recover their misplaced students.
Even to the present moment, as Joseph watched the academy courtyard stretching before him from his seat on the window sill, he hadn't eaten anything. The only thing keeping him from slipping in and out of unconsciousness was the IV taped to his forearm, stocking his malnourished body with nutrients that he'd been deprived of for so long. It wasn't that he wasn't hungry, he just.. Couldn't eat. He had no motivation to. His body wasn't willing to let him eat. He hadn't slept since arriving at Beata again, either. Every time he'd nodded off out of sheer exhaustion, violent flashes of the trauma he'd been forced to undergo bombarded him, and he'd woken up within two minute of falling asleep, screaming. His arms felt like lead pipes as they lay on his lap, limp and unfeeling, and his legs were dead-weights, unable to carry him more than five steps.
His mother and father had rushed through an eight hour drive to come and see him and Juliette. He would never forget how his mother's sobbing had shook his entire frame, and the hot dampness of her tears on his shoulder, and raw, pure heartbreak making her words crack like thin ice. He would never forget the bright redness in his father's weary eyes, or the crushing grip of his embrace, or just how indescribably, uncharacteristically flooded with emotions such a regularly jovial spirit could look and sound. Of all things to dominate his emotional plain at that moment of reunion, though, Joseph had felt guilt. His existence had caused them so much pain - more than he could even begin to imagine - for the year he'd been missing. How many nights had they spent crying instead of sleeping? How many days of work had they missed trying to find him? Of course, he was their only son, but it still baffled him that people could care so much about him, and he couldn't help but feel at least partially at fault for their misery.
And then, of course, he'd refused to see or speak to anybody - and that included his parents - for three days. The setting of the infirmary, what with the white decor, and strict staff routines, and heavy medicinal scent, had petrified him senseless. For a while, through his twisted perception, it had looked as if he were being sent right back onto the operation table in Kaleb's laboratory. That also factored heavily into the guilt. For three entire fucking days, he'd been to busy wallowing in his own misery speak to the two people who held him most dear. What kind of son was he?
Coming home should have been a happy occasion. Joseph should have been pleased to be free of the cell he'd been locked in for twelve months, and to have food and water readily available, and to see his beloved mother and father again, and to have the freedom to go wherever he pleased. What little joy he'd felt in seeing his family had been short-lived. He still felt trapped, but instead of being stuck in an iron box, he was trapped in his own head. Sometimes the prefect didn't feel anything - just a fuzzy numbness. When he did feel things, though, it was either guilt or crippling panic. Sleeping meant having to relive the terrors of the year that had passed by, and being awake was a rollercoaster of feeling nothing or everything at once. Sure, he wasn't under the knife, or chained up to a wall, or undergoing aversion therapy, but the trauma of such experiences was a lingering hell, even after it was all over.
As the fourth day of being in the infirmary had come along, his panicked episodes had mellowed out a little, leaving him unfeeling and stony. It wasn't a good thing, but he was expecting visitors today, so at least he wouldn't be frothing at the mouth when someone came to greet him.
Joseph's parents were waiting outside of his room, standing by to inform whoever it was that was going to pop in of what had happened. He loosed a hollow sigh onto the glass he was leaning against, obscuring his view of the yard below. His brain was too muddled to process an idea of who his visitor would be.
He was sure he'd feel another wave of guilt, though.
