Free Midnight for the Broken by Michael Roux Page B

the too often broken ones I'm used to at the hospital, and every door has a keypad entry and a camera. The man's security card is checked before we're allowed to pass through.
    I'm rolled into a room filled with stainless steel cupboards, bright lights, and another camera. The man locks the wheels of my wheelchair and leaves me alone. I try moving, but my transport won't budge, so instead I stare at the camera and wonder who is watching. After a few minutes, a woman covered in an orange plastic suit enters. She glances at me as if I was a permanent object in the room and strolls over to a counter where she collects a syringe and a handful of vials.
    I'm about to let myself fall to the floor and attempt to crawl away when the door opens again. Dr. Snow appears, followed by a woman carrying a clipboard.
    “Mr. Moon, this is Janice,” says Dr. Snow, as casually as if I were a neighbor or relative. “She has some papers for you to sign. Then we can begin.”
    “I'm not signing anything,” I tell him. “Talk to my lawyer.”
    Dr. Snow waves away my comment. “I have spoken with him. He has advised us not to begin any tests without your authorization. I know you're eager to see Jessica.”
    Mention of her name catches my attention. “She's here?” I ask.
    Janice hands me the clipboard. The paperwork is already completed and there are little plastic arrows taped where I’m supposed to sign. The forms look like the ones Mr. Jackson had me complete when registering for school. But that was school. He's not here, and whatever I sign could get me into more trouble. I review the forms. From what I can tell, they're authorizations for blood, fluids and tissue. There's a hold harmless agreement, which I laugh at, considering I'm in a wheelchair and wasn't when I arrived. I see a press release form. Use of my likeness and such. There’s a disclosure, which I read.
     
    All uses are limited and exclusive to the work by LCS Clinical Research.
     
    Below the print, Mr. Jackson has signed as my court appointed guardian.
    “My lawyer saw this?” I ask.
    “He wrote it.” Janice hands me a pen.
    “Then you don't need my signature.”
    Dr. Snow shakes his head. “We do for this,” he says. “You're saving lives, Mr. Moon. We can't begin until you sign. Janice is a notary.”
    Suddenly I'm hot again. “Whose lives? Yours?” I point to Janice and the nurse. “Theirs?” I hand the pen and the clipboard back to Janice. “You have your cure. You don't need me. I'm not signing anything. I'm not going to be your science experiment.”
    Dr. Snow's face turns red and a vein boils up on his forehead. “I was told you would cooperate,” he says to me, leaning close.
    “You obviously have bad information.”
    “Should I leave, sir?” The nurse puts down her supplies.
    “No, stay a moment,” Dr. Snow tells her. He takes a deep breath and then paces away from me. “We paid a lot of money to help you, Mr. Moon. Do you know that? We bought your freedom.” He turns to me, glaring, and then drops to his knees and grips my wrists, making them burn. “I brought my daughter with me today. Today only. If you don't cooperate, I won't bring her again.”
    I stare at him, aiming my hate. I want to see Jessica, but I also know that we'll never have a chance to have what we did again. If I see her, what would it be like? What would we say to each other? My life feels like it is over and I don't want her to see me this way.
    “I won't do it,” I announce to the room. My words tug at my heart, but I continue anyway. “Not like this, not under threat. You can wheel me back to that room and you can use any excuse you want to those who know I'm here, but I won't be turned into a freak.” As I speak, my voice strengthens with the courage I'm feeling. I'm the victim, but there's only so much they can do here without my permission.
    I push back from my wheelchair and try to stand to face the man in front of me. I tumble to the floor, but I don't