Chapter 1: Randall

"I'm really proud of you, son. I mean that".

Randall Masterson's dads sudden outburst brought him back rudely back into the world of the living just as he was about to fall asleep. It was the first time his dad had said anything since they left the institute nearly two hours ago. Randall hadn't really known what he was expected to say, and he figured his father had lapsed into his usual method of dealing with him; embarrassed denial, so until now the

journey home and been in complete silence. Awkward for his dad perhaps, but relieving for him. Until now. Randall gave his dad the courtesy of a slight smile. He would say he felt relieved to be out of the institute and going home, but in truth, Randall didn't feel much of anything at all while he was taking all the drugs that made him 'better'. He wasn't going to deny they'd taken the edge of his obsessive tendencies and the anger, but they'd also managed to slice just about all of his emotions, negative or otherwise right down the middle. It wasn't that he had lost them, he was sure he still 'felt'. It was hard to describe. They just felt like they wasn't his own anymore. At least, like he wasn't quite in control of them. Still, he supposed, emotional ruin aside, at least he was out of the institute and being driven back to his own house.

How long had it been? Nearly a year now. Not quite, though. It felt much longer. He struggled to send himself back to the days when he had been happily living on the cusp of what was considered 'normal'. He had decided not to go to college, and that had actually worked out for a while. He'd still been living with his family when he met Jessica, and he vaguely remembered happiness. It was when she left him that everything that got majorly fucked up.

The cheating, the breakup, and then the drinking, the stalking, the attack, the court case ... Randall had been a minor then, lucky for him. The judge had decided that with his parents permission the Anhiem Institute would be the best place for Randall, having made several recent breakthroughs with behavioural treatment and experimental drug conditioning. Randall had been incredibly worried, even scared about the institute when he arrived, but it hadn't really been that bad. It was certainly better than prison anyway, he figured. The freeway lights were creating complex shadows across the car. Randall's tiredness crept back again, and with no more effort from his father to finish the conversation, Randall fell asleep.

The car pulled into the driveway a little after midnight. Randall's dad had stopped off at a service station for dinner sometime after Randall had fallen asleep, but Randall had decided not to bother with food. He was hungry, but he didn't want the added social awkwardness of having to sit across from his father and eat a meal. He was grateful for the extra time it had added to the journey when he noticed all the lights in the house were off. His mother and his sister were asleep, which could only be a good thing. He'd deal with them tomorrow.

The familiar smell of the house hit Randall as his father opened the front door into the hallway. Nothing had really changed, and what little was different had already been documented by his mother in a million letters. The smell, however, couldn't be conveyed with words and it comforted him somewhat. The institute tried in vain to emulate the comforts of home without looking to much like a mental hospital, but there's only so much you can do to hide sterility, and the aroma of twenty years of family life couldn't be emulated.

"I'm going to bed son," his father said wearily. "I'm only an early shift tomorrow and your mother will be out most of the day, but we'll talk in the evening, ok?", his father looked at him tentatively, perhaps hoping to illicit some sort of response.

"Sure." Randall replied. He didn't really mind if his parents wanted to talk. If they expected something more than a quiet apathy from him though, they were going to be disappointed. He watched his dad retreat up the stairs and into his room, quietly closing the door behind him. He listened at the foot of the stairs for a while, and when no sounds came, he gave up and walked up the stairs to his own room.

Not bothering to turn the light on in his room, he shut the door and threw himself on the bed, falling asleep for the second time in the evening.

"Randall?"

"Randall? Wake up!"

Randall rolled over onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling. He rubbed his eyes. His curtains were drawn but bright sunlight had managed to penetrate and fill the room in a hazy light. He guessed it must be quite early in the morning, although there wasn't a working clock in his room; all of the electronics hadn't been switched on since he left for the institute and--

"Randall, I'm only going to ask one more time!", the voice of his sister on the other side of the door.

"What?"

"Do you want breakfast, or not?" Bethany asked.

Randall sat up on the edge of his bed and stretched. "Yeah, ok, sure, I'll be down in a second" he replied, and he heard his sister walk back down the stairs. Bethany would almost certainly be cooking bacon for breakfast. Unlike his parents, she probably wouldn't want to talk about the institute or discuss his future. Beth was like that, she knew when to just back off, and it had helped them secure a very good relationship. At least, a good relationship before he left. She hadn't come to visit him once. Her 18th birthday had come and gone two weeks ago and he had sent a card, but hadn't heard from her at all, save fleeting remarks in his mother's letters.

Randall stood up, still wearing the clothes from yesterday. The only clothes he had taken to the institute. He opened his wardrobe. Everything was clean and ironed and placed on hangers. Of course. He kept his jeans on, found a plain white shirt and walked to the bathroom. The mirror above the sink showed off his attractive features, blue eyes and short black hair. His hair had been much longer but short hair was one of the institutes many regulations. Maybe they did it to enhance the loss of identity or maybe they did it just because. You could never tell at that place what was meaningful and what was just a waste of time. Randall made a mental note to let his hair grow for the immediate future.

Randall was washing his face when his entire body suddenly went haywire. Stumbling backwards from incredible sudden pain on the left side of his head, he made an attempt to grab onto the side of the bath and failed, falling to the floor. His body convulsed, arms lashing out to grab something, anything at all, and then just as suddenly as the pain had appeared, it vanished. Randall was left feeling nauseous and breathing heavily. He crawled over to the toilet, lifted the lid and threw up violently. It was several minutes before he felt strong enough to stand, and after a drink of water from the sink, he felt a little better.

"Breakfasts ready Randall; you better not have gone back to bed!" Beth called.

Randall cleaned himself up and flushed the toilet. The last thing he wanted was for any of his family to find out he was having random attacks. He walked down the stairs with a deliberate concentration, and into the kitchen.

He had been right; Bethany had prepared two incredibly appetising bacon sandwiches. She handed him one of them on a plate and went to sit at the table.

Beth was Randall's little and only sister. She had always been quiet and although she had a few close friends, she was never all that popular at school. As far as Randall knew, she had never dated or even kissed a guy. She just didn't seem the type, although he was sure that there wouldn't be many guys that would turn her down. She'd always been cute as a kid, but Randall was amazed how she'd grown since he'd been at the institute. He'd never really noticed it before, but the way her brown hair fell down her face, ending at the top her cleavage was ... he stared at the bumps his sisters pert, round breasts made in her pyjamas...

"Randall? Are you going to eat that or just stand there with it?" Beth asked.

Randall was snapped back into life and quickly looked away from Beth in embarrassment. What was he just thinking about? He'd never thought about Beth like that before, she was his sister. He wasn't attracted to her. Right? Still, he had to calm himself for a minute and adjust his pants to hide the start of an erection that had been forming there. He sat at the table across from Beth, who started talking to him like he had never left home. She told him about school, about her piano playing and photography classes, and about her friends. She was going shopping with them today. She never once asked him for any information about the institute or his treatment, and he didn't offer any. It didn't take long before they had both finished their food. Beth stood up and took the dirty plates over to the sink.