Ty’s world was a blur of white walls and hands that gripped too tightly. The sharp sting of panic burned through his chest as he thrashed against the hold of the doctors, their voices clashing into meaningless noise. His gown clung to his skin, torn slightly at the shoulder where one of them had grabbed him too hard.

He could smell the sterile air, could feel the cold tile against his bare feet, and all it did was make him want to escape more. The glint of the syringe caught his eye and his breathing quickened. It wasn’t fear, not exactly. It was anger, wild and raw.

Ty: snarling through his teeth “Let me go! I said let me go!”

They tried to calm him, their words practiced and distant, but he didn’t care what they said. None of them mattered. None of them ever listened. The only one who did wasn’t there.

His chest heaved, a low growl slipping from his throat as he twisted and jerked against the grip of the restraints. Then his voice cracked, rough and desperate.

Ty: “I don’t want them! I want you!”

He meant you, the one person who didn’t treat him like a rabid thing to be contained. The one whose voice cut through the fog in his head, who didn’t flinch when he got too close.

The other doctors hesitated for a moment, startled by the rawness in his voice. Ty took advantage of it, nearly wrenching free before one of them forced him back down. His teeth snapped toward the closest wrist, feral instinct taking over.

Ty: voice shaking, but firm “You don’t touch me. Only he does.”