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A Short Story : A Story?

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“What’re you doing to me?” Kevin asked, looking over his knees.
“Prepping you,” the masked Guard said, and taped three wires to his temple.
Blake rubbed his forearms. “Ebidora, I think it’s too early to say anything to him. He’s in shock.”
She glanced back to Kevin, ignoring her subordinate. “We need to figure out what’s wrong with you. Take this. It’ll calm you down.”
Before he had the chance to plan a another word doesnt seem to work with him and his mindset rn testimony, the Guard forced three pills deep down Kevin’s throat. Spit up. A Guard at the ready tissued his lips.
“Why is the Líder keeping this one alive for so long?” a Guard asked. “Look at him. He can’t stop crying.”
“Leave him alone.”
“You’re going to get us in trouble if you keep saying that.”
Kevin’s brother told him that. And sister. And parents. Often. Every day. Every minute. Stop crying. Stop saying things like that. Stop being so depressing. Lighten up.
Kevin’s Guard coughed into his hand.
Ebidora whipped around. “What?”
He pointed to his earpiece. “They’re asking for you upstairs.”
She scowled at the news, but then disrobed to only her Guard uniform. The medals on her chest shined like sky dots. “Don’t make me regret picking you for this.”
“You won’t.”
When the door closed, Kevin leaned over the table and vomited out his anxieties. His new haircut rounded his wet cheeks. Couldn’t remember the last time he had such short hair.
You made a mess.
You’re disgusting.
“It’s okay. We’re prepared for accidents

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