“Fine.”
“How’s your appetite?”
“Fine.”
“How have you been sleeping?”
“Fine.”
The doctor gave him a skeptical stare, eyebrows raised. “Really.”
“Fine,” Roy repeated. He was done providing symptoms for them to dissect.
“I have some news for you. Take a seat.” Dr. White indicated the bed, then sat down on the chair nearby.
Roy reluctantly sat. The bed creaked under his weight. “What is it?”
“It’s for the best, really. I hope you’ll be able to adjust your expectations and take a more realistic look at your prospects. After all...”
Roy clamped down on the temptation to demand that Dr. White spit it out. If he made the doctor think he was going to get violent, he’d probably get shocked again. His only hope was to stay calm and appear cooperative.
Dr. White finally ran out of platitudes. “You’ve been given a medical discharge.”
Roy told himself that he’d known this was coming. Of course he’d been discharged. He couldn’t even handle an ordinary hospital ward, and he wasn’t getting any better. He’d be useless on the battlefield.
It still felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest, leaving an empty hole the size of Montana. He’d never wanted to be anything but a Marine. He’d never been anything but a Marine. If that was taken from him, what did he have left?
In the back of his mind, he heard a wolf howl in answer. Roy kept his expression blank. If there was one thing he’d learned all the way back in boot camp, it was self-control.
“How do you feel?” asked Dr. White.
Roy wondered if he was imagining a greedy tone in the doctor’s voice, as if the man was sadistically eager to hear exactly how crushed Roy felt.
“I’ve been expecting this,” Roy said calmly. “I know that I have a disability. I hope it will get better with time and therapy, but I understand that I have to accept...” What was that depressing phrase the therapist kept using? “...the new me.”
“That’s good to hear,” Dr. White said.
Roy didn’t want to be the one to break the ensuing silence. He couldn’t sound too accepting, or the doctor would get suspicious. Or was silence also suspicious?
He wished this was a problem he could solve by shooting or punching his way out. He’d never been good at mind games. But he had to win one now, or he might never get free of this place.
“So, what’s next for me?” Roy asked.
“What would you like to be next?” Dr. White inquired. Now there was a man who was good at mind games.
Roy tried not to sound overly eager. “I think I’m ready to be an outpatient now. I’d like to get outside.”
Dr. White shook his head. “You’re nowhere near recovered enough to leave the hospital. Besides, we need to run more tests.”
“You’ve run tests on me every day for...” Roy had no idea how long he’d been locked up. Months, probably. “For ages. You’ve had me lifting weights and running laps! I’m in good shape. I’ll wear dark glasses. I’ll be fine.”
“We need to keep you here for your own safety. Unless...”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you tell us what you really are,” said Dr. White. “Or better yet, show us.”
Roy kept his facial muscles still, concealing his alarm. But his suspicions were confirmed: they did know his secret. Or knew that it was a possibility, at least. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”