Make a wish when a Blackbird flies

Another day passed, another large, ugly, sweaty man walked in. Every day, they would come in with the excuse of giving him his pills, then they would stay. At first he would fight, scream and thrash around, anything to save himself, but that only caused him to be brought back to the electroshock therapy room.

When that didn't take the fight out of him they started tampering with his medication and giving him date-rape drugs, like a bunch of teenage virgins at a frat. Party. Some of them were a little nicer about it, they brought sweets and chocolate and he'd be distracted eating the treats while they fucked him.

When Frank tried to tell Mackenzie the man just pumped him with more brain muddling drugs; he was also moved to another room at some point, that's what he assumed anyway since he just woke up somewhere else one day.

It was a smaller room with no window and the mattress was so thin and bare he might as well have been sleeping on the floor; there were no sheets or covers, so on nights when he was alone he would often be so cold he couldn't sleep.

They also stopped taking him out of his room to eat or spend some time in the recreation room; he had no idea when a day ended and the next one began, but he knew that no more than two doctors came in a day , so he counted and every six or seven men one of them would bring him a tray full of some green muck; he wasn't even allowed to shower anymore, and for everything else he conveniently had a toilette in the corner of the room.

Anyone who had the potential to care had just forgotten about him. The only thing to comfort him were the people who had been here and died before him, they would do anything to help him, even though they could do nothing at all. One a man named Peter managed to keep the door jammed closed for a few hours but they got in in the end. They always got in.

Mackenzie sometimes came in to see him, he was probably the only one in the whole hospital who didn't take advantage of Frank, but he didn't stop anything; you didn't need to have super powers to see it all over his face that he knew what everyone was doing to him, and he just let it happen.

So time passed and it had only been a couple of months when he did the very thing Annabelle had once warned him not to. On that day he was being visited by a doctor that once threatened to cut out his tongue if he screamed anymore; he wasn't too old, he didn't seem like it anyway since he was strong enough to hold Frank up against the wall.

Frank himself was slumped against him, his head on his shoulder, his arms lazily slung around his neck. The doctor had given him something before he started, something hidden inside a lemon drop which Frank had gobbled down in hunger; so now he resembled more a rag-doll than an actual person.

After a few minutes of constant pounding – by this point he could barely feel the intrusion, what hurt more was his back that kept hitting the wall – Frank realized he was holding something in his hand. He lifted said hand up to his face to try and see what it was; the edges of his vision were fuzzy, but he could clearly see it. A deep red rose.

It had a very short stem and no thorns, almost as if whoever had given it to him took them off so he wouldn't prick himself. The petals were still closed, like it had been picked only minutes earlier; with the lack of sunlight it would probably never open. For a brief moment Frank thought it was just a paintbrush that someone had dipped in blood, but the more he looked at it, the more alive it seemed.

Something so beautiful and fresh certainly couldn't have been given to him by one of the men from the hospital, it must have been from someone else. Someone who actually cared about him, who cared enough to take away the sharp edges so he wouldn't hurt himself, not only on the rose, but everything around them, making life and reality seem sweeter and softer than what it really was.

Someone probably as beautiful as the rose they'd given Frank. Tears silently escaped his eyes as he thought of someone who's face he couldn't remember, someone he was probably being unfaithful to. The sudden guilt that hit him hurt more than anything they could have done to him in this place.

Sometimes when he slept, he would hear a voice, as calming and soothing as a lullaby, and it was only in those moments that he felt like he was going to be okay. But in this moment, when he was awake, being raped by countless men, he did what Annabelle told him not to. He broke.
It was like a large hole had ripped open inside of him, and all that black of the world had spilled inside.

Just like someone else spilled inside him. At least this one had the decency to drop him on the bed before he left. And that's where he stayed for the rest of the night, surrounded by faces and voices, though none of them were the one he wanted to see and hear the most.

Notes

So you probably all hate me now.
Let's make a game out of it. I want you all to dish out your best and worst insults and my favourite one will be written down and tacked to my wall and as soon as I figure out how to do it I will post a picture of it in next weeks chapter.
May the most offensive person win XD

P.S. Can anyone tell me how do I post pictures on here?? XP