His reaction to the substance had garnered the interest of the aliens. Day in and day out, they continued to experiment with it, adjusting the quantity given to him each time. When he refused to drink it, they simply tied him down and either injected him or hooked him to an IV to force the substance into his bloodstream. Fighting back was futile; they overpowered him every time.

Adrian had developed a newfound hatred towards his captors for the needless torment they were subjecting him to. It simmered and burned deep within his soul. He dreamed of their suffering, fantasized of inflicting even just an inkling of the pain he’d been subject to back on them. Once upon a time, he would have been horrified at such thoughts. No longer.

He sat in his cell a broken man, for they had thoroughly shattered his spirit and stamped out any resistance he thought to offer. Any outburst he had was punished with a small dose of the purple substance. Just enough to incapacitate him and make him regret the folly of his disobedience. And regret it he did.

Though the light in his eyes was almost gone, a faint spark remained. Adrian retreated into the warmth it provided, submersing himself deep within his mind in order to escape his reality. He relived his life from before he was captured. Relished in it, for it was the only thing left keeping him sane. He held on to distant memories for dear life as he weathered the storm that was the present.

He remembered his time at school. He fondly remembered the people that had been most important in his life. Precious moments with his now-deceased family. He focused on the good times, burying the bad, but they remained, threatening to surface in his moments of weakness.

He stood up from his spot and began to walk around the room, following the contours of the walls, stopping in front of the few details he could find. Arriving at the small hole where his food sat, he took his finger and traced along the inner walls as he absentmindedly hummed a sombre tune. A small prick brought Adrian out of his daydream, and he searched for the source.

A nearly imperceptibly small sliver of material near the back stood out, razor sharp. Adrian stared at his bleeding finger and was struck with an idea. He turned around and scouted the walls for the perfect place to start. Selecting a spot, he walked over to it and placed his finger to the wall. A small red splotch remained, staining the wall. Adrian smiled for the first time since arriving. It was time to brighten up the place.

With frequent trips back to where he cut himself initially, he used his finger to write on the walls. Various words were slowly formed over the course of the next hour before Adrian decided to stop, worried about possible blood loss.

He waited for it to dry, the colour of his blood darkening to a less appealing colour. He didn’t mind. It was still a step up from the bare, white walls that encased him. The lights turned off in his cell, but Adrian remained wide awake, planning his new long-term project.

***

Adrian looked around. The room was smaller than he was used to, lacking the spaciousness of the others he’d been in so far. It had a small bench and table facing the wall. On the table was a fist-sized round orb with a flat bottom and top. He’d been left there alone, unsure of what to do next. Without his input, the orb flared to life, a screen magically appearing and floating above it.

The suddenness of it startled him. A strange symbol appeared on the screen, and he focused on it. It was a half-circle with a dot in the centre.

“Rho,” came a human voice, taking Adrian by surprise. The first he’d heard since arriving. He whipped his head around, hoping to see another person but the room was empty. It must have come from the orb, he thought with disappointment.

“Rho,” repeated the voice.

The symbol on the screen was replaced by another one that looked like a cursive r with a short, horizontal line above it. A different pronunciation accompanied it.

The screen returned to the first symbol and the device spoke as it had the first time. It did the same with the second symbol. Both symbols appeared next to one another on the screen and a new sound was produced.

A third symbol appeared. Adrian, meanwhile, was confused, trying to figure out what was going on. It clicked together when all three symbols appeared next to one another beneath an image of a chair. A language, he realized, the thought dawning on him. They’re teaching me a language.

Adrian thought back to the symbols he’d seen on the aliens’ screens every time he went for an experiment. The ones shown here looked nothing like those, nor did they resemble what he assumed was their numerals. Whose language is it then? I’ve never seen any of these symbols before.

The screen flashed back to the first symbol, remaining silent. Adrian waited for it to speak, but no sound came. He frowned. Do they want me to pronounce it? “Rho,” he said tentatively, unsure of himself. The image flashed and switched to the next symbol. He pronounced what he thought was the right sound that was associated to it and the image changed again. He repeated his actions for the third symbol shown, more confidently.

Combinations of the symbols and their associated meanings appeared on the screen, one after another. Adrian did his best to remember them all. When a fourth symbol was added to the mix, he finally messed up, unable to properly recall the name of the object displayed in front of him. He assumed that the screen would correct him with the proper pronunciation, but instead it flashed an angry red.

A small hiss clued him in that something was amiss. He looked around and saw a tiny, white ball with blue circles on it. His eyes widened in recognition. It was the same as the one that had drugged him before that horrendous operation. It approached and he swatted it away, not wanting it to get closer.

Undeterred, it picked itself back up off the floor where it had landed and once again started flying towards Adrian. He made to hit it again but missed when the orb suddenly changed directions with a speed that belied its small form and flew around his outstretched arm. It landed on the back of his neck.

Using his other hand, he tried to grab it but was too late. He felt the telltale prick and his world lit up in pain. Adrian screamed out, knowing exactly what they had done. His captors had drugged him with a low dose of that nightmarish purple substance. For the next five minutes, he writhed in his chair until the pain disappeared.

After all of their experimenting, they knew exactly how much of it to introduce into Adrian’s bloodstream to get their desired effect. Now that he could think again, he looked once more to the screen in front of him. The same string of symbols was still there, flashing red. He heard the correct pronunciation for the word and the image reset back to the beginning. It was time to start again.

One by one, he spoke each syllable and each word. He made careful care not to forget what had gotten him punished this time around. Inevitably, however, Adrian made yet another mistake as the complexity of his task increased.

Once more, a quiet hissing sound came from above him when the screen turned red. He whipped his head around and located the orb that came straight for him. He was ready this time and caught the orb before it could land on his neck.

Adrian looked at his hand triumphantly until he felt a small prick on his palm. “Ah, shit,” he swore just before the pain came. His only saving grace was that his punishment was short in duration, never lasting more than a couple of minutes.

This continued for hours before he was brought back to his cell. When he arrived, he flopped on to the ground, too drained to do anything else. His project would have to wait until later.

***

“We are finished here. It is now time to return,” came a staticky voice from the device held in the alien’s hand after it finished speaking.

Adrian had become fully fluent in the language they had taught him. He could read, write and speak it just as well as he could English by this point. Not that he’d had any choice in the matter. It was learn or be punished. As a result, he could now carry out conversations with his captors. In theory, that was.

The reality was that he received one-sided instructions from them, their language translated by a small, handheld device they carried around with them whenever they interacted. The experiments had grown increasingly complex over time now that they could properly communicate, often involving him performing some kind of task.

He didn’t know what the point of it was, if he was being honest. His tasks ranged from puzzle-solving to physically demanding tasks, each often taking hours to complete. If he was too slow, they punished him. If he performed well, they simply gave him a harder, more convoluted task.

“Lead the way,” he spoke back, waiting for the machine to translate his words into a series of clicks, hisses and shrieks. One of the benefits of the translator was that he was beginning to learn their language as a consequence. He never let on that he could understand parts of their conversation, as he didn’t want to tip his hand.

Whenever they discussed amongst themselves, they turned off the translator, not wanting Adrian to overhear. Certain patterns in their speech remained that Adrian could decipher thanks to their many interactions, and he managed to translate snippets of it.

“—by now . . . losing control . . . blood,” were the words Adrian understood as the researchers behind him discussed as he left the room.

“—injections . . . failing . . . again,” came a reply.

The door closed behind him before he could hear the rest. He sighed internally. He was hoping to learn more about what they were doing to him, but it seemed today wasn’t the day. The trek back to his room was uneventful and he soon found himself staring at his newly decorated walls.

There certainly was a splash of colour by now, he mused. Over time, he’d added to his initial caption upon the wall. Simple words like help and SOS adorned the wall where he’d started. Other parts had a brief log of what they were doing to him, some complete with crude drawings.

Along the far end of the wall was Adrian’s favourite part. He had transcribed song lyrics from his favourite or most important songs. Songs he used to sing for his now deceased niece, Evelynn, whenever he’d visit had their own place on the wall. After learning the new language, he’d inadvertently begun to write in it along the walls. The result was a mishmash of English and whatever language they’d taught him.

He was running out of real estate to write on and had resorted to drawing on the floor. He now treaded lightly so as not to rub off his hard work. At times he’d had to redraw work he’d previously done. All in all, he’d turned his sterile room into a complex diary of events and ramblings. He felt like a modern-day caveman. He certainly looked the part, he snickered.

His cell felt more like a home now, albeit lacking in furniture. A place of solitude and safety he could retreat to after the experiments. Personalizing it had gone a long way towards the sentiment. The room was now his in a way it hadn’t been before. He hoped the aliens wouldn’t remove the work he’d done. Thus far, they’d left it well enough alone, uncaring for his artistry and Adrian was grateful. He didn’t know what he’d do if they took this away from him.

He went over to the slot where his food was and pricked his finger again. He found an empty spot on the floor and began recording what he’d learned from their conversation in English. He wasn’t sure if they understood English or had the means to translate. If they did, then they wouldn’t have bothered teaching him a new language, he figured. That meant English was safe to write in. His only form of privacy.

Painstakingly, he wrote in blood the key words he’d picked out. Once he was finished, he looked over his work, pondering the significance of what he’d learned. The injections are failing, he thought. He’d noticed that they weren’t causing him much pain, if any, anymore. They’re losing control of something, and it has to do with my blood. He felt like the two were related, he just didn’t know how. If only I’d heard more.

He thought back to what he’d seen in the room before he left. He hadn’t noticed anything displayed on the usual screen that showed his point of view. It had simply been blue. They must be losing control of whatever they’d injected in him that allowed for them to see what he was seeing. He shelved the thought for later.

Ultimately, Adrian didn’t have enough information to make a proper conjecture and gave up, deciding instead to try and learn more from their conversations. Until then, Adrian decided to add some more art to his room and grab a bite to eat. The food was still unpalatable, but it was the only food he was given. He grabbed a cube and examined it. The cuisine could use a little salt. He popped it in his mouth anyway, knowing he didn’t have a choice. Story of his life.

***

First it had been his arms, now his legs. This was the second major operation Adrian had undergone in a short amount of time. The aliens had carelessly dumped him in his cell while he waited for the paralytic numbing agent to wear off. He was not looking forward to the pain that was going to come after this operation in particular, if the last one was anything to go by. His relief was only temporary.

He must have overheard correctly that the injections were failing. Soon after he wrote down his entry in blood, they had stopped. His captors decided to take a more hands-on approach to their experiments.

It all started with relatively minor incisions on his back. Lying face down on the operating table, he’d been unable to watch them work, only able to dully feel their tools as they snipped and cut parts of his body away, only to stitch him back up. Once his pain medication wore off, he became acutely aware of exactly what they’d done. He felt every incision and modification they’d made. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly for days.

That was only the beginning.

They took him time and again to the operating room, a new horror in store for him every time. The harsh lights above the metal table he rested upon now invaded his dreams, where their tools descended upon him without care, defiling his body to suit their twisted desires. He found no solace in the once sweet release of sleep. There was no escape.

His body was now riddled with scars, some smooth, others raised. He was unable to count how many he truly had, the patchwork encompassing his entire body. It was never enough; there was always another experiment to be performed. No place was spared from their cruel desires.

Fresh, angry, red lines marred the front and backs of his legs. His pants had been removed before the operation and sat uselessly on the other side of the room, allowing Adrian a glimpse at what was to come.

Luck was on his side as the paralytic wore off before the pain-suppression effects did, some sense of agency returning to his limbs. Weakly, he lifted his arms and dragged himself across the floor, his legs not responding properly. He had little strength left for the task, but he didn’t give up. Inch by inch, he slid towards the water dispenser. It was a race against time to make it before the pain settled in and he would be left unable to move.

The barest twinge made itself known in his legs as his arms struggled to carry out his exhausting demands. Adrian sped up as fast as his body would allow. Arriving at his destination, sweat covered him from the exertion. He pushed himself up and slumped against the wall like a marionette with its strings cut, arms hanging uselessly by his side and head bowed as he waited. It wasn’t long before the pain made full on its promise.

Days passed as Adrian endured. The ache came from deep within his bones, unyielding, unrelenting. Tears freely rolled down his face as he bit back his screams. The slightest movement sent fresh waves of agony rippling through him.

The door to his cell opened again and in came an alien with a floating stretcher behind. Adrian stared in despair as they approached. There was nowhere to run. He was helpless before the creature as he was loaded onto the stretcher, his screams giving it no pause. The ceiling changed from white to grey as he exited his cell, knowing exactly where he was going.

He didn’t know how much longer he could last.