In the weeks following, several different doctors would visit Theodore’s place of holding and investigate his condition, each claiming he had suffered from some kind of insanity episode and that he should be medicated or put down. His father thanked and paid each before sending them away as he didn’t want to end the life of his only remaining family.

There was, however, one renowned scientist whose eyes lit up at the sight of Theo’s anatomy. He’d noticed extra joints and areas of muscle fibers that he declared signs of evolution. Having recorded everything Theodore and his father said about the traumatic event, he inquired whether he could take the boy back to his laboratory for further studies with the guarantee of his best attempts at finding a solution. His father reluctantly agreed under the additional promise that he could visit whenever he pleased. “Good luck, Teddy. I’ll never be far.”

Despite his father’s words, Theodore had to travel, leashed, for three days to arrive at his new home. The doctor had just happened to be in their area at the time. By the time the boy was able to lay in his new bed, his hand had begun to rot from an infection. Theodore tried to hide it, as trauma lurked around its reasoning, but the doctor had spotted it days previous.

“Let’s take a closer look,” the man stated in what Theo thought to be a strange dialect. He kept his hand at his side, not wanting to comply. “It’s fine.”

The coated doctor forcefully grabbed Theo’s hand and pulled it into visibility, unwrapping the amateur bandaging around it. A sigh followed as he poked around the incision with a small metal stick of a device. Theodore felt a twinge crawl from his palm outwards, jerking his arm each time the doctor would poke.

“How do you feel about losing a hand, young man?” he inquired. “That’s the way it’s going, maybe the arm too, before long.” Theo pulled his hand away and stayed silent.

“That attitude’s got to change if you want my care, boy,” the man stared down Theo, met with his cheek in response as he turned away. The doctor walked away, fiddling about in his drawers from what Theodore could tell. There was something inside him that told him to leave, but by now he’d lost the will to act on it.

Before long, the man returned with a large syringe, a liquid leaking from the tip. Theodore readjusted his eyes, leaning away from it. “W-what is that?” he squeaked out. “It’ll make your hand grow back together. Don’t worry, boy,” the doctor replied firmly. The child took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Tssk. The sharp pain from his inner elbow forced out a fearful grunt as Theo tried pulling his arm away, unsuccessful as the doctor suddenly had a hold on it. Before long, his arm felt numb; the feeling stretched over his entire body before his consciousness fell away.