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Patrick used to think that he should've stayed silent. That he shouldn't have said a word. That he would've been so lucky to die on that bus.
Before, he used to wonder what had happened to everyone who weren't subjects 3 and 6, but he pushed those thoughts down because thinking about what was happening or had happened to them was useless since he 'couldn't help them now'. 'Now' he used to say, like he had ever had any semblance of control in the first place.
He often hoped that they were dead, but for their sakes, he also hoped that they weren't. Patrick had been dead many times before and back then he yearned for it–the embrace of death, that is. Death was the only painless part of his life, yet no matter how gruesome his death was, he was always forced back into the realm of the living.
He hoped that nobody was suffering as he was, though he knew that his hoping was as futile as his very existence at the time and even back then he knew that there was a fair chance that he was receiving preferential treatment.
The scientist, the director, the authority figure, the person in charge—Patrick did not know Their exact title—claimed to love him, and Patrick would never dare to deny Them when They put the words into his mouth that he loved Them too.
Patrick did not then see how taking his limbs and having them dangle above him like a taunt to a long-lost freedom while he helplessly lied on whatever machine They deemed fit for him to lie on below was an act of love, but who was Patrick to deny the truths of someone that for all he knew could very well be an omnipotent being?
At some point after losing his legs, Patrick recalls being woken by a stab to his wrist via what looked to be a kitchen knife and finding himself strung to the ceiling by his head with a chain, Patrick remembers the sharp-and-then-immediately-turned-dull pain of the Life Syringe entering and exiting the back of his skull, but something that Patrick will never forget was being told that he had a new body on its way to him.
After that, Patrick remembers his arms being taken and dying twice, he remembers Them telling him after the second death that he would wish that he had died on the bus if he didn't stop misbehaving.
Patrick didn't know how to resist death due to blood loss back then, he still didn't know now, in fact, he's not actually sure that it's a thing that a person can do, but he remembers the terror that washed over him upon finding out that what he had been experiencing then was the 'nice' version of the treatment that he could've been receiving.
Then there was cruelty, or at least Patrick thought it was a cruelty...They deprived him of the right to die while They sawed off the bottom third of his torso. Patrick remembers that day to be the day that he had pleaded for death in his head to whatever deities might've been listening more than he ever had before. His pleas went unanswered.
Patrick was left alone for awhile before he was transported into his new body, he doesn't remember most of it, but that's okay, he doesn't need to remember it because the most important thing was that for once he hadn't been in pain.
Then again, the ability to remember what it was like to not be in constant agony might've proved itself to be useful further down the line. Oh, well.
Patrick does remember hating his 'new body', despairing at the idea of being trapped within its unholiness forever...and then They made the decision to discard it. Patrick could've only assumed that that was the aforementioned 'love' for him that They had told him about and that was when Patrick began to wonder if he did indeed love Them like They claimed him to, especially since he finally had evidence of Their love for him.
They attached him to a flying machine to get him back to the lab and then left him alone for awhile after that, perhaps to recover, but it was impossible for Patrick to relax. Even if Patrick ignored the Life Syringe jutting out of his skull, how was he supposed to breathe knowing that he might be feeling love? Did he love Them? Did he even know what love truly was? Could a being such as him, who could hardly be considered human anymore, even feel love? Patrick did not like the uncertainty, so he forced himself to think.
Without Them...he would have become whatever had became of the other participants of the bus. Without Them, he would have lived and died in pain without ever being given a second thought before his body was tossed into the trash and without Them, he never would've known a life besides pain.
They had loved him from the beginning, even though he was originally chosen for his mishaps, his words of wrong. If someone who by all means had the right to hate Patrick and still loved him, he had to reciprocate, no?
It was the only thing that made sense.
Patrick does not remember being placed into the suit, but he does remember the love that he had for it, both for the likeness to his human body and for the power it gave him...in a twisted combination of both and also something completely new and foreign to him, he had fleeting thoughts that it might make him more appealing to Them.
Patrick was right, though it was only because he enjoyed using the power that the suit gave him. They said it made him evil, and that They loved it. Loved. How could Patrick ever stop himself with that sort of encouragement?
Patrick remembers first laying eyes upon the one-legged man. He had scarring of all sorts, some that Patrick wasn't familiar with in the slightest, like the holes in both of his arms that were obviously forcibly healed.
Regardless of the scars, the man was nonetheless a recognizable person and something ended up blooming in a heart that didn't exist anymore–the same something that brought back phantom pains in a chest that no longer belonged to Patrick and made him was to cry and at the same time do nothing but give love at the sight of another human who was something- someone like Patrick.
Of course, the man was dead and hanging from the ceiling when Patrick first met him, and that was long before Patrick ever got to hear so much as the name that belonged to him or even his lab name, but Patrick had been happy anyways because if he was meeting the man then the man must have been special, right!?
Patrick was right. The man was brought back to life and immediately started screaming as a song to his suffering. Perhaps before, Patrick would've found the sound disturbing, but to someone who had only heard himself—whether it be vocal or physical noise (slicing, stabbing, throwing etc.)—and Them, it sounded beautiful.
The only thing that was more beautiful than His screams, was Their next two sentences. "I'll deal with him, Patrick."
Sure, that didn't sound good, but it was what They said after that that really had Patrick captivated. "What did I teach you about consequences, Alex?"
Alex.
A name.
Alex.
Alex, Alex...AlexAlexAlexalexalexalex!
It was a gorgeous name, in Patrick's opinion, it might've been short for something, it could've been short for a lot of things, but Patrick didn't know if he'd ever have the pleasure of finding out what.
The consequence that They had told Alex about was delivered to him in the form of a knife to the back of his head, but They had said that whatever Alex was in for would begin the next day, which meant that Alex would be brought back to life and maybe, Patrick would be allowed to see him again.
...
Patrick remembers the next time that he saw Alex. Alex had taken the form of a wretched creature made of darkened flesh and a 'smile'—which was really just the skin around his mouth pulled so far back that his back teeth showed—so wide that it would strike fear into the heart of anyone. Not Patrick though, Patrick didn't have a heart anymore, and if he had, it probably would've started beating faster. Not in fear, but in excitement at the sight of the person that he had been dreaming about since he'd first seen him.
Then They had to ruin it by saying something about a fight. They didn't even offer anything if Patrick won or Alex lost,
like they had no confidence in him. Patrick pushed down such awful thoughts immediately. The form that he had taken then was the form that they had so lovingly made for him, and he had complete confidence in it.
"You may both proceed to attack." They said.
Patrick remembers nothing after that until he regained consciousness.
Patrick woke up to another machine under him and another suit above him, he probably would've done something pointless like wince had it not been for Their warm hello and Their relief at his recovery.
Recovery from what, you ask? Presumably his fight with Alex, but it was okay because They were being so nice to him, they even gave him a personal doctor and a guard! A guard! Just for him! For Patrick!
Then Patrick got promoted. He was to be an Enforcement Officer...They gave him a job, a task, They gave him purpose. Meaning. How could he ever repay such a thing?
They called him beautiful when he got situated into his new body, and he had never been more happy to be appealing to somebody.
They called him fantastic after the simplest of testing of his newest body and Patrick was over the moon.
They called him deadly, They told him that They loved it, and for that, he loved it too.
They wished Patrick well and promised Their return to him with a: "See you later, Patrick."
That led Patrick to where he was currently, happy and content, all because of Them. Patrick will be honest, he wonders from time to time how Alex is holding up in his eternal capital punishment, but Patrick has had to learn how to shake off the pointless wonderings and count his blessings. Blessings from the one that he so devoted himself to. Blessings from Them. Blessings from the one he loved.
Yes, Patrick loved Them, and They loved him too.