You grab Vic's arm. It's immovable. You grab their face and jam your thumbs into eyes that may as well be rocks. You might snap both thumbs pushing on pupils that stare unbothered.

You lose control of yourself. Your arms sink by your sides as the world fades with a god looming over you, Vic, expressionless.

Life is simple you think. Being in this place where you're taken care of so well by the nurses. You actually don't remember a life before it but they claim you had one. You've been here for years apparently, relearning how to live.

The nurses now trust you to work alone with Lego, which is almost as big a milestone for you as when you stopped wetting the bed.

People come and visit you the nurses claim are your family. When they visit, you can tell they care but they aren't anyone you remember. You don't believe there was a life before this place because if there was, you're sure you'd have some memory of it. None of what they say makes sense to you and you can't imagine it even makes sense to them.

The people claiming to be your parents visit sometimes, they wear nice clothes and bring gifts. You hear them speaking when they think you aren't listening. Mostly it's boring, but one time you heard them mention that the nurses hear you screaming about someone named Vic in your sleep. You've never known anyone by that name to be moved to scream about them.

It doesn't matter, you're happy here, you have friends here and the gifts your visitors bring are nice, even if the visitors seem sad most of the time. You want to go to the common area and build lego with your friends. Sometimes, like now, you think on it and the name Vic brings an image to mind of emptied spools of tape which also means nothing to you. You go and find your friends.