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Mark thought they had done it.
He thought they had finally succeeded in finding things that could help them figure out what was going on. It had been going smoothly, no scares, no scrambling to evade Milchick, no rushing to get back to their office. Just quietly walking out and searching. And it had been going well. They had come across rooms they didn’t recognize, listened to strange sounds and conversations, and seen unexplainable labels next to doorways.
Helly had heard a man’s voice down one of the many starched white halls, frantic and scared, then a loud slap that echoed. They had all jumped and she wasted no time in following it. She’d rounded the corner and gotten no more than two steps toward the room before Milcheck grabbed her arm tightly.
“My goodness, your group just loves poking around,” he’d greeted with a too-wide smile. He’d stared at Helly, an unspoken threat in the air before looking right at Mark. “Let’s get you back to where you belong, hm?”
Mark can sense the frustration from Helly as they’re taken back to their floor. It’s clear in the stiff way she walks and her fisted hands. She had been so happy they were making progress, smiling as Dylan and Irving shared theories, then her smile dropped as they were caught. She’d resisted initially, swearing and tugging at her arm in the man’s grip, but settled down when Graner appeared. They’re guided back to the office and Mark groans inwardly at the green carpet. He had really been hoping to stave off their return a little longer.
Helly stalks off toward the bathroom while Dylan and Irving head to their desks. He moves to do the same, but a hand on his shoulder stops him.
“Oh no, Mark, you’re coming with us,” Milcheck states brightly.
He turns, confused. Whenever they intended to use the Break Room, they took the offensive worker right to it. They hadn’t ever returned them to their station. Mark follows him as he leaves, though, flanked by Graner with his usual scowl. He doesn’t want to piss them off more than they already had and he’s been given the punishment plenty of times. He hated it, but it had gotten a little easier as the years went by. Dylan’s trick, however, forbidden to discuss, did work at times. He glances at the cubicles and finds Irving staring after him. He gets to see the older man’s furrowed eyebrows, then the door is shut.
Walking down the halls is foreboding. He’d been down them a million times by now but had never done so while he was surrounded by his superiors. Now that he and Helly had stumbled upon the room with the lambs, he wondered what was behind every door they passed on their way to work, what else Lumon was hiding. The notion helped him push down the anxiety as they headed further into the building, but only slightly.
“Didn’t we, uh, pass the Break Room?” he asks after a few minutes.
Milcheck glances over his shoulder but doesn’t say anything.
Mark swallows and keeps pace with them. Graner stays silent behind him as usual.
They’re probably just taking the long way, he thinks. Or maybe Cobel wants to meet somewhere else. It’s okay. It’s fine.
He attempts to imagine Petey’s map, but he hadn’t memorized it well enough to have a solid picture in his head, much less apply it to the endless twists and turns the other workers were leading him in. He guessed he had never been down these hallways, but couldn’t say for sure. They seemed different, however. They were still white and plain, but there was an old, dusty qualitu to the walls and floors. Some of the lights even flickered as he passed under them. The details unnerved him, but Mark rationalized that they were simply on a more distant floor with fewer offices and therefore, not a lot of people nor upkeep. After all, he had taken Helly to one that was mostly abandoned on their wellness walk.
Mark almost bumps into Milcheck when he stops. He stumbles back a step and looks at Graner, who gives him a frown. He watches their supervisor put his card into a lock and the light turn green after a moment. The door hisses open and Milcheck enters. Mark feels a cold draft come from inside.
“Come on.”
He doesn’t move. He stares at the darkness behind the man. “Where are we? I thought I was going to the Break Room.”
“We won’t be going there today. We’re trying something new.”
“Something new?” he parrots.
“Yes.” Milcheck gestures inside. “Better to get it over with, Mark.”
Well, that’s ominous as shit, he hears in his head and imagines Helly. Mark stays right where he is and intends to stay that way, damn the consequences, because the room is screaming get away get away now bad wrong don’t go in there but a harsh shove from Graner sends him through the doorway. He catches himself and whirls around, a protest on his lips, but the door closes a second later, sealing him in near pitch darkness. The anxiety comes back full force and his heart picks up as he takes the space in.
Mark can’t see but a small ways in front of him. His breath fogs up as he exhales and his shoes scuff as he walks cautiously forward after Milcheck. “Uh, so what’s—what’s in here?”
“You’ll see,” is all he gets.
It only worsens the knot in his stomach.
He hears the other man’s steps halt and eventually finds him standing in front of a door. Mark can only tell it’s that from the faint glow around the edges and the green light that flashes next to it as Milcheck slides his card. He waits, his features barely visible, until the door opens silently. No click, no hiss, no beep. Nothing.
“Is-Is this another form of the Break Room? I was fine with the other one, you know." He tries not to sound too pleading. He can’t really explain why the room was unsettling him so much, but it was. He would gladly take being forced to repeat the same phrase a million times over. “I-I know you told us to not sneak around and I’m sorry. Really. I’ll-I’ll tell the others to stop and we won’t do it again, I promise. I’ll stay in the Break Room as long as you want, I—”
“Mark.”
He shuts his mouth with a click.
“I know you’re a good worker. And I know you want the best for your team.” Milcheck smiles at him and Mark can’t even return it because he knows that the man feels none of the emotion associated with it. “But Ms. Cobel feels that you haven’t taken your role seriously, and she wants you to know that you need to. You need to take responsibility for not only your actions, but the people under you.” He takes a step back and his expression grows neutral like when he’s listening to him mindlessly apologize. “Ms. Cobel thinks a change of pace will help that sentiment stick more. So, you’ll be spending some time in the Sensory Room.”
He walks in and Mark can only follow him. The sounds of them moving seem to get muffled the minute they cross under the frame. Sensory Room. It doesn’t sound bad, but then again, he thought the same about the Break Room when he was first sent to it. He can hardly see inside, barely make out where the walls end and the ceiling begins. There aren’t any outlines of furniture, nor a machine or projector. It’s like being stuck inside a void.
Mark fights the urge to fidget. “What I am supposed to do?”
“Just remain in here and be with yourself. Think about what you did,” Milcheck replies. “With the help of this, of course.” He holds up a syringe, long and filled with a dark liquid.
He pales at the sight. “Ah, is there another way? I’m n-not so great with—”
“Hold out your arm, Mark S.”
“I’m really not good with needles, could we—”
He doesn’t get to finish as his right arm is grabbed and yanked outward. His sleeve is pushed up and a needle sinks into his skin before he can blink. He bites back a panicked noise and just screws his eyes shut as Milcheck empties whatever substance into his veins. He’s careful as he extracts the end but offers no bandage or gauze for it like he usually would. Mark swallows bile and shakily covers the cut with his hand. He can’t help but take a step back.
“What did you just give me?” he demands.
“Something to aid in the lesson.”
Mark wishes he could hit him. “Why—what lesson? What does that mean? Stop being vague and just tell me.”
“I am telling you all you need to know.” There’s a hint of anger in his voice. “This is your punishment, Mark S. You need to endure it on your own.”
Endure? What the fuck? “Can you at least say what’s going to happen? So I can be prepared?”
Milcheck is walking away before he can even finish, the darkness shifting ever so slightly by his figure. “That would ruin the effectiveness, Mark, and you have to experience this as completely and intensely as possible.”
“Wait, Mr. Milcheck—”
“I’ll be back when it seems you have learned your lesson.”
“No, don’t—”
The door shuts and Mark is alone.
He stands there for a moment, frozen. After a moment, he lets out a trembling breath and touches the spot where he was injected. It’s a sore, but not too painful. He walks forward, trying to calm his nerves.
“It’s okay, you’re fine,” Mark mutters. He blinks in an effort to see more clearly. It obviously fails. “You just…need to stay in here until they come get you. You can do that. It’s better than sitting at a computer all day. It’s fine. You’re fine.”
He holds out a hand and hits a cold, solid surface. He moves along it until he comes to a corner, then repeats the action. When he’s done, he sits down against one wall. It’s not large, maybe six or seven feet wide on all sides, and he hadn’t touched any windows or other features. Milcheck said he would come back which means he’s probably being monitored. The notion doesn’t freak him out, not after being used to near- constant supervision for three years.
Mapping out the roomcalms his nerves slightly. His stomach is still tight with anxiety and fear of the punishment, though. He doesn’t know what or if anything is coming and it’s scary. To combat this, he breathes deeply for a few minutes and when that doesn’t help, he turns to comforting things. Having coffee with his team in the kitchenette, reaching quota before the end of the day, listening to Dylan’s definitely fake stories, watching Helly laugh at one of Irving’s weird jokes.
This helps a little more. He sighs and rests his head on the wall. It makes him shiver, a sharp coldness leeching into his skin. He’s not sure how long he’s sat there, maybe a half hour, maybe longer, when he reaches up to rub his eyes.
It takes a full minute before to realize he can’t feel his hand.
Mark stops and looks at the appendage. He flexes it, or think he does, and doesn’t feel any sensation. It’s completely numb, as is the rest of his arm. His breathing stutters and he straightens, shoes almost inaudible on the floor. He moves his hand again, then his left, and finds it much the same. He lets out a nervous laugh, waves both arms and wiggles all his fingers.
He doesn’t feel anything.
Not a single thing.
What the fuck?
Mark looks at his legs, or at least, where he assumes they are, and tries to bend them. Nothing. The most he can do is tilt his feet to the side and even that sensation fades quickly. His breathing picks up and he touches his chest, horrified to feel the numbness spreading. He pats his suit jacket as hard as he can, intending to smack it, but the contact is muted, distant.
He can’t feel the floor or the wall or his clothes.
What the hell was in that needle?
___
His hearing goes.
He can’t hear himself whisper or speak.
He can’t feel how sore and raw his throat is from screaming.
His world is dark and silent; a soundless, empty space, and he wishes desperately for the Break Room.
___
One question remains in his head, through all the paralyzing fear and desperation to get out.
Why, after his body is far away and unmoving, can he still feel the cold?
___
“I’m just sayin’, if they had bigger benefits, we might try harder. I’m not gonna bust my ass over a fucking pencil with my name on it, you know?”
Helly snorts. “I’m not really interested in any benefits from this company, but yeah, I get what you mean.”
“I would advise you two to keep your voices down, but it’s a waste of time,” Irving mutters as he walks past. “Especially after yesterday’s incident.”
“Hey, Milcheck didn’t even take us to the Break Room,” Dylan points out. “Maybe they realized we’re gonna keep poking around no matter what and gave up on punishing us.”
She makes a doubtful noise. “I don’t think it’s that. It’s weird, though, that they haven’t, you know, come for us. I mean, I thought we’d be stuck in there for days when he caught us.” She shudders and glares at the Lumon logo on the mug.
“Maybe they’re trying to ambush us. Like, they’ll grab me or you when we’re gonna go take a shit.”
“Dylan,” Irving chides even as he glances around their office like he expects Milcheck or Grainer to manifest and do just that. “I am sure we’ll get our punishment eventually and they simply don’t want to fall behind quota in the meantime.”
Helly rolls her eyes and gets up, dumping the last of her coffee in the sink. “Wow, what a nice thought, Irv.”
“It wasn’t meant to be comforting.”
“Oh, I’m aware. Just part of your charm.” She washes out the cup because Mark is a stickler for leaving the kitchen clean and will get snippy if there’s so much as a small mess “I’m gonna go ahead and get started.”
“Maybe they wanted us to look around the rooms,” Dylan muses. “That could be their plan…”
Irving gives him a look that he shrugs at.
“What, you have a better idea?”
“No, and I’m not going to waste time thinking of some.”
“Hey, wasting company time is where it’s at, man.”
The older man frowns in disgust. “You are so—”
“Guys.”
Both of them look to Helly who’s standing at their cubicles. Her head is faced away as she stares down at the computers and when she turns, her expression is serious.
“What?” Dylan asks.
She glances at the clock, then back at them. “Where’s Mark?”
Irving tilts his head. “Well, he’s—hm.”
“It’s 8:30. He should have been here by a half hour ago.”
Dylan shrugs. “Graner probably cornered him to talk when he got out of the elevator. Say he’d kill him if he tried that again.”
Helly just shakes her head. “He wouldn’t have made him so late. Both him and Milcheck are assholes about us being on time.” She walks over to them, one hand clenched in a fist. “Did either of you see him before leaving yesterday?”
“He was escorted away by Mr. Milcheck,” Irving recalls, quiet and unsure. He wrings his hands. “I saw them leave while you were in the bathroom. They—Mr. Milcheck didn’t say where they were going, he simply took Mark somewhere.”
Helly’s mouth forms a line. “And none of us have seen him since yesterday.”
“That doesn’t mean anything bad.” Dylan’s tone indicates he thinks the opposite. “He could be…fine.”
The redhead looks at the floor for a long moment, eyebrows pulled together, then strides over to the door. “I’m going to go find Milcheck and ask where he is,” she calls over her shoulder, voice strained. “He shouldn’t have been gone so long, something must have hap—”
There’s an abrupt hiss as the door opens and Milcheck walks through, hands behind his back and wearing a pleasant smile.
“Good morning, Severance Team. How are you all?”
“Bad, thanks,” Helly replies shortly and walks right up to him. “Where the fuck is Mark? You took him after you brought us back here and we want to know why.” She hears distant protests from Dylan and Irving, most likely the older man because of her bluntness, but their shoes come closer.
Milcheck’s face remains calm. “I took Mark somewhere in the building to face the consequences of yesterday’s little…field trip.”
“What does that mean?”
The man only winks and leans to the side, pulling something to him. “It means Mark, here, is all good to start his day and get those numbers up!”
Helly begins to snap at him that she’ll tear her innie’s ear off, she’ll bite off her own tongue if he’s hurt the other, but her mouth closes as the man himself is suddenly in front of her. Dylan swears and Irving cries out in surprise. She takes a step back, watching Mark stumble, then straighten, Milcheck’s hand clamped around his elbow. At first glance, he looks fine. She can’t see any visible injuries and there’s no blood. He’s wearing a different suit than the previous day and has his badge on along with everything. But when she stares a little harder, she sees lines on his face and how his posture is tense. He looks tired, stretched thin, and he’s squinting like the light is too bright.
All of makes her insides tie into a knot.
“Mark?” Helly says experimentally. “Hey, what happened—?”
He flinches and leans away as though she’d shouted. His head snaps toward her and she resists the urge to put more distance between them from how intense, almost frantic, his eyes are. It’s like he’s never seen her before. He blinks and seems to come back to himself. He stares past her at Dylan and Irving.
Helly rounds on Milcheck. “What did you do to him?”
“Just had him spend some time in the Sensory Room.”
“The Sensory—what the fuck is that? You’ve never taken one of us there before. You’ve never even mentioned it.”
“It is well within my right as assistant director to choose what information we share with you, Miss Helly,” Milcheck replies and it feels like he’s scolding her. As if she was a child caught stealing cookies. She fucking hates it. “But if you must know, the reason I brought Mark to the Sensory Room is because he is the leader of your team, and therefore, must take responsibility for the actions of both himself and you.”
“How come the rest of us weren’t taken there, then? He wasn’t the only one sneaking around.” Helly can picture the hand slashing over the throat motion Dylan’s doing at her words. “How is that fair, that Mark gets punished and we don’t?”
Milcheck’s smile dips a fraction. “It is Mark’s job to monitor you three, which means making sure you are following regulations and aren’t breaking the rules. Sadly, he did not do that, but he’s learned his lesson, haven’t you, Mark?” He slaps the other on the back and Mark jumps, his face twisting up in a wince.
“Y-Yeah, yes.” he says and it’s so different from his usual controlled, sure voice. It’s soft and anxious, and Helly immediately despises it. “Definitely, Mr. Milcheck.”
His smile is all teeth. “Great. I’ll leave you all to get cracking on those numbers.” He places a hand on Mark’s shoulder as he goes by and the other man cringes. Helly almost shouts after him to stay and tell them more, but he’s gone in an instant.
She turns to Mark. “What happened? What did they make you do?”
He stiffens. “Nothing, I was just taken to a different room,” he says, almost robotic. “It’s fine. I just want to—to do my job, want us to do our jobs. No more field trips or-or sneaking around or going behind Cobel’s back. Is that understood?” His voice cracks at the end and when Helly takes a step closer, Mark angles himself away like she'd going to strike him. He blinks at her and rubs his arms, and murmurs a quiet, “Sorry, I…sorry.” After nodding to Dylan and Irving, he walks over to his desk and sits down.
Helly rounds on the two men, who seem as confused and put-off as she feels. She mouths what the hell and Dylan shrugs while Irving gives Mark a worried look. When it becomes clear their boss isn’t going to say or do anything else, they go to their respective cubicles and get to work.
It’s weird going through the motions. Mark clearly isn’t well; the way he types and sits is all wrong, like he’s in pain. Helly catches him flinching at the numbers as though he’d forgotten they elicit fear to spot them. Multiple times he looks away from his screen to stare at the ceiling or floor like he’s never seen them before. It freaks her out and concerns her, however reluctant she is to admit it. She can tell Dylan and Irving feel the same from the glances they share between themselves and her. Something is obviously wrong, but he refuses to acknowledge it. Helly wonders how long it will take for him to snap, to do something rash and spill what happened as he’s done before. Like when they had done the team building activity her first day, and he had rambled about missing Petey. Fortunately or unfortunately, she doesn’t have to wonder for too long.
She’s not sure if it’s the constant clicking of their keyboards or silence in between, but Mark eventually makes a strangled noise and shoots up from his chair. They all look to him. He stares at his desk, breathing raggedly, then turns on his heel and stumbles to the bathroom. They all listen to the slamming of a stall door. Irving rises from his seat, but Helly holds up a hand.
“Give him a few minutes,” she says. He seems like he’ll protest, but she shakes her head. “If he’s not out after that, I’ll go check on him. We need to be calm and not give Milcheck another reason to be suspicious.”
Irving frowns and sits back down. “Fine, but I’m breaking down the door if I hear any ruckus in there.”
Dylan scoffs. “Like you wouldn’t break a hip doing that.”
“What, you think you could do it—”
“Zip it, you two.” Helly returns to sorting her numbers, though she’s half- heartedly paying attention. Her main focus is the bathroom and how scared Mark looked before he’d ran into it.
About ten minutes drag by with no sign of him. The silence in the office makes her skin prickle and her leg refuses to stop bouncing. When she can’t take the tension anymore, she gets up and walks to the back of the room, Irving and Dylans’ eyes on her.
She knocks. “Mark?” There’s no response, but she hadn’t exactly expected one. “Mark, you’ve been in there for a while, bud. You okay?”
Helly waits, picking at the hem of her skirt. She hated wearing the things, just another reason to wish misfortune on her outie. She wished she would wear slacks for just one day instead of the tight fabric.
“Mark? You either answer or I’m coming in.” She glances back at the others, raising her eyebrows. Both of them shrug. “Mark, I’m gonna come in if you don’t say anything. I mean it.”
Again, nothing.
Helly rubs the back of her neck, then takes a breath. “Alright, I’m comin’ in, get ready,” she announces and puts her hand on the doorknob. She gives him a moment before turning and pushing. She thinks she hears a cut off, “No, wait!” but the voice falls quiet as she opens the door all the way. Helly stops inches from entering as she realizes the bathroom is nearly in pitch darkness. Only a pillar of white from the office illuminates the tiles. All the lights have been turned off, and even though the fluorescence gives her a headache sometimes, having them absent is eerie. Mark must have done it, which just confuses her more.
Helly purses her lips and looks for something to hold the door open. She doesn’t want to wipe out and hit her head on the counter. She finds a roll of paper towels near the sinks and grabs it, wedging it between the door and frame. The brightness dims until a thin stripe of light remains and that’s good enough.
With that taken care of, she starts forward.
“Mark? You okay?” she tries. “Actually, ignore that, you’re obviously not okay.”
Helly ducks under and opens the stalls as she walks down the line. She doesn’t see his shoes in any of them, which means he has to be in the last one. Unless he opened an air vent and snuck in, which, honestly, would just impress her.
“I’m worried about you, man,” she continues, stomach is tight with unease. “I mean, we’re not the happiest team and we’re shitty to each other sometimes, but we’re all worried. You gotta tell us what’s wrong so we can help.”
Mark says nothing, but a rustle comes from the back wall.
“I know we haven’t always gotten along, and I can be…difficult.” Her heels clack and she debates taking them off so they won’t be so loud. “I’m not apologizing for that or making any promises to not be so difficult because I have a right to hate this place. ‘Cause, you know, it sucks. But I—I don’t want you to feel like you can’t trust me, or Irving and Dylan. Or that you have to suffer through whatever they had you do alone. We gotta at least try to stick together, okay?”
Helly gets to the last stall and holds her hand up before pausing.
She could leave. Turn around and leave Mark to whatever it is that’s wrong. It would be simple. She didn’t need to concern herself with him, they weren’t buddies. He kept trying to be but was there a point in that? She kept wondering and was annoyed when she came back to the same conclusion; yes, there was a point and yes, she wanted someone she could count on. Even when she’d been rude or petty toward him, Mark asked how she was and was there to help. And she was always confused afterward, why he was so insistent on being friendly.
Because he was me, once. He had acted like me, probably said the same things as me. But he had Petey. They became best friends and had each other two years. And now he’s alone.
Helly swallows and knocks on the door. Something within shifts and she hears a shaky inhale. She slowly pushes it open, grateful to find it unlocked. It’s dark inside but she can make out Mark’s silhouette against the wall. Crouched and held together, small. Cautiously, she inches toward him and lowers herself to sit. Her eyes adjust to the gloom until she can see. What she finds isn’t good. His knees are to his chest, his hands on his ears. His eyes are screwed shut and his face is creased in a grimace. His cheeks are wet. It all makes her feel worse, makes it ache like thorns are wound around her ribcage. He should be annoying her about the rules of Lumon and whispering about theories on their break, not huddled in a dark bathroom like he’s about to get attacked.
“Geez, man,” Helly murmurs and Mark jerks back, hitting the corner of the wall. She jumps, figuring he couldn’t hear her and reaches out to touch his arm. The second her fingers brush against his sleeve, a sound split between a gasp and keening spring out of him. She snaps her hand back.
“Sorry! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—I won’t touch you, promise.”
Helly can’t tell if it calms him. She feels out of her depth. She doesn’t have much experience with comforting people and hadn't felt the urge to since she arrived at the company. She presses her lips together and backs up a bit, glancing around the stall. It’s bigger than the others and has a handrail next to the toilet, which she supposes is good as it means Lumon doesn’t discriminate against handicapped employees. Small blessings. The only sounds are Mark’s uneven breathing and creaking from pipes.
She hopes Milcheck doesn’t come by their office, and if he does, Dylan or Irving make up some story as to where the other half of their team is. It would not help if the man burst through the door. He would most likely find some violation and take them to Cobel or the Break Room. Neither of them needed that, especially Mark.
Wonder what my asshole of an outie would think if she knew, Helly thinks, leaning her head back on the wall. She frowns. Probably that he deserved to get punished. She might’ve created the place where he went.
She’s not sure what prompts her, maybe in an attempt to soothe or simply make noise so Mark knows he’s not alone, but she starts talking. She talks about everything; the previous day and what she and the others did while he was gone. The coffee maker not working, the printer jamming and splattering ink on Dylan’s shirt, getting a definitely-not- on-purpose papercut between her fingers to annoy her outie, Irving coming in and Milcheck reprimanding him for having paint on his face even though he had no idea where it came from.
How long she goes on for, Helly doesn’t know, but at some point she hears, “What color paint?”
“Jesus!” She jumps and turns to him. He’s no longer blocking his ears and his eyes are open and trained on her. His body is still positioned awkwardly, but it doesn’t seem like he’s terrified anymore.
“Oh my God.” She fights the urge to shove his arm. “Don’t do that, dude.”
“Sorry.” He does, oddly, sound sincere, so she waves a hand. It reminds her of blinding light and looping words.
“It’s fine. I just—I didn’t think you were even listening.” She angles herself toward him. “You didn’t seem like you were…you know, in a good mood. To, uh, listen.”
“No, I-I was.” Something flashes over his face and he looks down at his hands. They grip the bottom of his suit jacket and tremble. “Or I was trying to. Sorry for the—” he mimics covering his ears. “I, um…it wasn’t because of you—”
“No, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” It seems like it’s a matter that absolutely needs to be worried about, but that’s for later. “I’m just glad you’re better… You are better, right?”
“Yeah, I am. I think.” He stretches his legs out. “The, um, talking helped.”
“I was just kind of winging it, but good to know.” Helly smiles, a quick flash of teeth. “What…can I…would you punch me if I ask what happened? To make you like, well, this.”
His lips turns down and he looks away, and she wants to kick herself because why the fuck did she say that.
“Shit. Sorry, forget I said that. That wasn’t… you don’t need to answer that—”
“No, no, it’s okay.” Mark exhales and runs a hand over his face and through his hair. It sticks up in a funny way. “Uh. I can tell you, it might just, ah, not be organized? It’s hard to remember everything. Milcheck gave me something and it was—”
“Gave you something? What the fuck?”
“Helly, please—”
“No, stop, hold on. Did he drug you?”
“Helly.”
She bites her tongue because his voice is unsteady, desperate.
“Thank you.” He opens his mouth, then closes it, opens it again. “After he brought us to the office, he and Graner took me away.” He waits for her to confirm with a nod. “We didn’t go to the Break Room. It was too far for that. We just kept going and going through hallways, and when we, um, got to somewhere—an older part of the building, I guess? It was really dusty and not well lit. We got to a room and Graner made me go inside.”
Mark stops. She sees him swallow and look pained as though he has to eat something foul.
“It was dark. Really, really dark. Like, I could barely see in front of me.” He raises his arm and pulls his sleeve up. He points to a faint red dot. “Milcheck had a needle. He…he injected whatever it was and said it would help with my punishment. I kept asking him to explain but he only said I had to-to endure it on my own without his help. Then he, um, left.”
Helly pushes down the ill feeling that forms.
“There weren’t any tables or things in the room for me to use so I sat down. I didn’t know what else to do. It was empty as far as I could tell. I didn’t know how long I would be in there or what I needed to do to get out and I was—I was scared.” He looks at her, his eyes wide and wet. “I couldn’t see anything and my arm hurt and I was worried about you and others, if Cobel was going to hurt you guys, and it—it really sucked.”
“Mark…”
“I started to, you know, panic, so I tried to calm down and it kinda helped and I thought, Wow, this isn’t so bad, I can get through this, and I realized I couldn‘t feel my right hand.” He doesn’t pause a beat, voice turning frantic. “At all. Then I couldn’t feel my left. And I really started to freak out and I was like, that’s fine, I’m still good, and then I couldn’t feel my legs or my back or my face, Helly. I couldn’t feel them. I didn’t know if I was even still sitting ‘cause I couldn’t feel anything—”
“Woah, Mark, it’s ok–take a breath—”
“But that’s not the worst part, oh no! Everything was numb and it was awful, I hated it, and I screamed for Milcheck to come back only to find out I couldn’t hear anymore! That’s right! I couldn’t hear my voice!” Tears flash in the faint light from the office and Helly’s own eyes sting. “I tried to talk and nothing! I couldn’t feel, couldn’t see or hear and I was alone, and I was thinking, I deserve this, I deserve this punishment. I shouldn’t have broken the rules, I knew it was wrong and still I did it. I’m the leader of this team and all I’ve done is run it into the ground.”
He inhales shakily. “I’m not like Petey. I’m nothing like him because he knew what to do. He knew how to prevent us from being punished, how to keep everyone smiling. He’s gone. He’s gone and probably dead and I’ll never know what happened, what they did to him and I—I miss him. I miss him so much I feel sick to my stomach and I want to smash my computer and I wish he were here to tell me what to do to keep you guys safe because…fuck, I’m trying, I’m trying so hard. I want to make him proud and get us through this, but I don’t know what I’m doing! I don’t know how to do my job and keep you safe at the same time. What happened was all my fault, my mistake, I shouldn’t have let you guys go, it’s my fault I got punished, my fault, my fault, my fault—”
Helly reaches out and grab his hands, ignoring the startled noise he makes.
“Listen to me, Mark S,” she says. “You need to take a breath now.”
“I can’t–can’t—”
“No, you can, just focus on me, okay? Don’t think about Milcheck or Cobel or this whole fucking building. It’s just you and me.”
She looks him right in the eye and squeezes his fingers tight. More tears fall down his cheeks but the contact seems to grab his attention. He inhales and holds it, lets it out. It’s ragged and too short for a healthy breath but Helly won’t be picky.
She nods. “Good. Again.”
He listens to her, maybe a little too easily and that will be something she considers later, and they repeat the pattern until Mark is breathing steadily and doesn’t look like he’ll pass out. Her hands move from his hands to his arms and she rubs them even after he’s calmed down. She doesn’t mean to, it’s instinct from somewhere deep inside her. Whether it’s for her sake or his, she’s not sure.
“Thanks,” he mumbles after it’s over and closes his eyes, wiping his face.
“You’re welcome.” Helly removes her hands reluctantly and clasps them in her lap. “Are you…okay? Kind of a dumb question after what happened, but—”
“I am.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “What you did, it helped. Just have a headache.”
“Think it’s from what they gave you?”
“Could be. Or from me having a severe panic attack.”
“Have you ever had one of those before?”
“Yeah. Mostly when I first started.” He smiles weakly. “Had five within my first week. I didn’t even know what it was, but Petey did and talked me through them. We didn’t really have a word for it, but he’d heard Milcheck and Cobel discussing the incident after leaving her office.” Mark stares at the tiles. touches his wrist. “I was sent to a lot of Wellness sessions and they thought I had stopped, but I just got better at hiding and holding them off. Petey could always tell when it was getting to me, would send me to get supplies so I could break down in the closet in peace.”
Helly thinks of the man she’d seen in the old picture, thinks of his kind eyes and his smile, and how it had, however mandatory it had been, appeared genuine. She moves from her spot, scooting over to be next to him. Their arms and legs press against each other, warmth contrasting with the chilled air. He tenses but doesn’t lean away.
“He sounds nice.”
“He was great.” Mark sniffs. “He made working here bearable.”
“Wish I could’ve met him.”
“Me, too. You two would’ve gotten along. You would’ve liked his jokes.” He pushes out a breath. “But he’s not here anymore.”
“I’m sorry.”
He wipes the corner of his eye. “That’s how it goes at Lumon.”
“It’s still shitty.”
“Yeah. It is.”
They sit in silence. Helly isn’t certain if she was actually helping, but words alone didn’t feel like they would do anything. At the very least. Mark seemed like his old self.
“Why didn’t you tell us you’ve been so stressed?”
The question comes out before she can stop it and she bites her lip afterward.
He shrugs. “It’s not that big a deal.”
“Mark, you just had a freakout in our bathroom. That’s more than not a big deal.”
He fiddles with his cuff links. “I just…I didn’t want to worry you. So much has been going on, I didn’t want to add another problem to the mix.”
"So you decided to bottle it up until you broke?” she replies, the words flat.
“Guess I’m used to hiding it. I learned early on they don’t like seeing us sad, gets in the way of doing our job.”
Helly elbows him lightly. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you do what they say. Show up to work and cry all over the documents. Use up all the tissues. You gotta rebel somehow, man.”
“I’ll make a note of that.” He elbows back. “But, sorry. For not telling you guys.”
“As Kier would want, I forgive my fellow man,” she says solemmly and knocks her heel into his shoe. “Just… we’re a team for a reason, you know. We can handle some stress if it helps take some of the pressure off of you.”
“Okay.”
She hears the unsure tone in his voice.
“Look, it might not mean much, but…” Helly leans her head on his shoulder. “You’re doing fine as our leader. As fine as anyone can do if they were in your position. I know I haven’t been the best addition, causing too many issues and giving you shit. But if I had to pick a department head in this fucked up prison, it would be you. Even with your neat hair and dorky jokes. And I think Dylan and Irv would agree.” She pauses. “We all know you’re doing your best. We appreciate it, we appreciate you. You’re not alone here. When we find a way out, I want you there with us.”
Mark doesn’t reply for a while. She wonders if she was too honest, if she made his anxiety worse. But then he tilts his head and rests it on hers.
“It means a lot,” he says softly, voice breaking. “It means a fucking lot. Thank you.”
Helly, after a second of hesitation, holds out her hand. He looks at it and gives her his. She interlaces their fingers together and squeezes.
“We’ll figure this out,” she tells him, tells the bathroom and the whole labyrinth of hallways and strange rooms. Defiant and sure. “We’ll figure it out and leave and live our lives however we want. And we’ll beat the shit out of Milcheck and Cobel and our outies.”
That gets a wet laugh from him. “I don’t know if I want to hurt my outie. Seems like his life sucks already.”
“Fine, then we’ll kick him a few times and give him a stern talking to, and go for mine. I’ll throw the fucking melon cart at her.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
It’s nice, sitting with him. Calming, almost relaxing. Helly’s sure she wouldn’t be here if she was the same person who woke up on that conference table. She most likely would’ve barricaded the bathroom and found a way to knock Dylan and Irv out so she could escape. She wouldn’t have been worried about Mark and how he would be afterward. She’d be glad he was out of commission and maybe even try to make it worse just so he wouldn’t come after her. Crazy what hours of repeated words and isolation and dooming realizations could do to someone’s mind.
“We should probably head back out there,” Mark murmurs.
She hums. “We don’t need to.”
“Milcheck will come if he’s watching the office.”
“Let him, then. We can stay a little longer. If, you know, that’s okay with you.”
He leans into her and some of the tension leaves his frame. “I’m okay with that.”
If Helly pretends hard enough, she can imagine they’re somewhere else. At a park sitting on a bench or eating together at a restaurant or watching a movie. They’re somewhere where they can go home and sleep and they don’t have to worry about being surveilled all the time. She can pretend they’re normal people who have a life outside work, she can pretend they’re friends who don’t stress over taking the blame so the other is spared.
Sooner or later, they’ll have to face Dylan and Irv. They’ll have to come up with answers for Milcheck. They’ll have to leave and come back to do the same thing all over again. But today, right now, something has changed between them. The white hot fury and injustice that’s raged inside Helly has cooled. And the longer she sits with Mark, the more it grows to be a reassuring, protective heat.
Petey is gone, but she’ll follow in his footsteps. She’s going to find a way out for herself, for everyone and she’s going to take down Lumon, no matter how long it takes. And she’s not going to let any harm come to her team.