[Sorry about my absence...  I'll try to not let it happen again...]<br/><br/>He was unconscious, but aware...  The figures, the darkness...  He was aware but he could not feel, it was blissful.  The peace and calm of complete numbness.  Dimly in the back of his consciousness he remembered the cut and realized that he might be dead now.  Waiting silently for the bright light of heaven that he knew would take him on his death bed he cared not.  Not for himself, for the rapist doctor, for the troubled girl.  There was no voice either, he had not been alone in his own mind for so long it struck him as a deafening silence, even as the voices in the robes talked around him.<br/><br/>It should have bothered him, it all should have bothered him...<br/><br/>The world began to take shape around him, his cell...  The cold bed, white walls, dimly gray floor, door with the wired little window, small table, fold out chair...  Paper, there was paper, he had written letters...  None had come back, the doctor...<br/><br/>As the world came back to him he remembered the sweet smell of the Doctors hair as he pulled her to him.  The smell of blood from the guards that had tried to stop him, the scent of fear from her...<br/><br/>Then, he remembered the gash, the slice in his chest and felt for it, wondering what he would find...