It is like a jail cell here: a small, uncomfortable bed, bars across the windows, and a small chair and desk that is hardly the width of a piece of paper. And, of course, nothing sharp.
Break the chair and stab yourself with the splintered wood!
The voice behind my ears whispers. No one is ever there, no matter how much I try to hunt it down.
Do it, pussy!
I get up. My chest heaving, a cold sweat glazing my skin. I grab the chair. Lift it above my head.
“Put it down, Cassy.” A stern voice behind me splits the silence. I wouldn’t have believed it was an authentic voice if I didn’t feel the chair being peeled from my grip. I look behind me, staring up at the tall, slim Doctor I had never seen before. The Doctor has a disappointed look etched in his otherwise handsome features. But something is unsettling about him. Yes, his eyes. They are dead eyes lacking emotion or depth. Hunter’s eyes, eyeing up potential food and nothing more.
“I’m going to remove the chair, Cassy. We don’t want you hurting yourself now, do we?” His voice is low, and he speaks slowly as if talking to an unhappy toddler, as he removes the chair from my room.
The heavy door closes. Shutting him in with me. The mechanical locks whirring in the custard-thick silence. I take a few steps back until I feel the wall’s cold against my back. He closes the gap between us. I can’t get out, the door has a card swipe lock mechanism.
You should have killed yourself, you cowardly cunt!
“You see… People like you are a danger to yourself and others. I don’t like the idea of having dangerous individuals in my hospital. So, what can we do about that? Any ideas?” He asks with a smile, but his eyes remain shallow and dark.
I swallow and reluctantly answer with a shake of my head.
“Oh, that’s a shame.” He reaches up, petting the top of my head. “How about this, then? You let me experiment on you, and I’ll supply whatever medication you need.” He takes out a small notebook from his white doctor’s jacket and looks at his notes. I’m drawn to a name tag as the notebook floats by. Doctor H. Stone. “My my, you’re on quite a few different drugs for psychosis and schizophrenia, aren’t you?” He smiles again and tucks the notebook back. “I can supply those for you. But you must do things for me first.”
What is this guy doing? The doctors have no right to withdraw that from me! I shake my head, refusing his offer.
“Miss Warwick, this isn’t an offer you simply refuse. Are you positive you want to reject me?” He asked with mock sadness that curdled in my stomach. “Very well.”
The doctor lifts his hand to his face and digs his nails into his cheek, drawing a quick swipe downwards, peeling a hunk of flesh off his face muscle. He staggers backwards, holding his bleeding face as a rush of doctors and nurses floods the room. “She is unwell! Send her into isolation!”
I’m restrained. Forced out of my room. I can see him staring at me with a crooked smile and a cold stare. Blood is pooling down the self-inflicted wound while everyone else thinks I am the culprit.
I struggle against the hands, lashing out in fear against the restraints. I am eventually put into a straight jacket and thrown in Solitary—a tiny room with no window. For days, I have no recess, no movie with the others in the evenings, no eating in the main hall with everyone else, and no breaths of fresh air. I am left alone, with the voice in my head as my only company.
Useless bitch.
A quiet nurse feeds me three times daily, gives me water, and helps me to the bathroom. She is as mute as I am.
You’re fucking insignificant. You don’t matter to anyone; everyone you have ever loved has abandoned you. You’re unlovable.
After several days in solitary, Dr. Stone enters, and my skin crawls in fear as he floats to me. His face is still healing, and everyone else thinks I’m the one that did it. Panic floods my body, and my blood turns ice cold.
Let him rape you; it’s the only thing you’re useful for, whore!
“Well, now...” he purrs, “see what happens when you don’t comply?” He smiles with malice. “I’m going to try again. This time, try not to be such a silly girl.”
Let him fuck your ear holes and poke your brain out the other side!
The voices behind my ears shout more and more. Shouting so loudly, I’m positive the Doctor can hear them.
“It’s worse, isn’t it? Without your medicine. The voices in your head are screaming more and more.”
I shake my head in response. They’re always bad, but now they’re worse. Louder. More graphic and violent. Every comment chipped away at the remains of my human self.
Your cunt stinks of rotten tuna, you filthy fucker!
“So... you’ll help me? And in return...” He lifts out a small needle with a safety cap on. “I’ll silence your voices.”
You’ll never get rid of me! I am part of you. Don’t you think you can rid yourself of me! I’m always here, right behind your filthy ears.
I nod. I’ll do anything to stop these voices.
“Excellent, Cassy. A smart choice.” He smiles wide and takes the needle. “I’ll provide half now, half later.” He removes the cap and jabs it into my neck. I have never had my medications through injection before, especially not in the muscles of my neck.
Don’t fff….
The voice immediately gets cut off—peace at last. I take in a stuttering breath as relief washes through me. The sound of a belt being removed pulls my attention away from my bliss. He is grinning wide, like a child setting fire to an anthill, watching the insects squirm beneath him, feeling like he is a God.
“I have a theory I’d like to explore.” He cracks the belt together. The loud noise is enough to startle me and flood me with adrenaline. “And I am so glad you offered to help.” He wraps the belt around my neck in a tight noose, securing it flush to my skin.
“Many people who experience death explain it as a very pleasuring experience like it is one big climax.” He speaks calmly, and he picks me up, still restrained in the straight jacket. And hooks the other end of the belt on a high light fixture. Still gripping onto me.
“You’ll die, Cassy. I’ll leave you dead for a maximum of ten minutes. And I’ll bring you back around. As you’re slipping into death’s arms, I’m going to make you climax. You’re going to tell me all about it when you come back, OK? I believe I can help you overcome your mutism.” The belt is crushing my windpipe. A searing pain spreads through my body, yet it’s also fuzzy and warm.
When I am totally hanging from the light fixture without any support, he yanks my pants down. His gloved fingers find my clit, massaging it in quick little circles.
My vision darkens. Pain and pleasure mix in an ugly cocktail. Fingers inside me, curling against that sweet spot inside as a thumb rubs my pearl. True to his word, he makes me cum. I can feel my body leaking fluids of arousal before everything fades away.
And then there’s nothing. An endless darkness. Warmth and a deep feeling of comfort. Cradled with love like a baby in a womb. Not even the voices can get me here. I float here for months. Years, maybe. Until...
Beeping echoes around me. Voices…
The comfort fades away, and pain begins to bite at me once more. I wake with a start, stilling bolt upright, gasping for air. The bright lights are blinding and painful.
“Miss Warwick?” A nurse speaks, and I focus blurry vision on her.
“Take it easy, OK? You’re safe.” She says with a gentle smile.
“Www... Whh... where...?” I begin to speak. My voice is croaking. I hadn’t spoken since my teens. Doctors crowded around me.
“She’s speaking? What on earth is going on?”
“Where. Is. Do-ck.. ter… Ss.. Stone?” I ask. “Wh. Where. Is Doctor STONE?” I repeat. My throat feels painfully bruised.
The doctors exchange confused glances. “Miss Warwick? There isn’t a Doctor Stone in this hospital.”
I scramble out of the bed, bringing wires and tubes with me. The staff panics, trying to get me to lie back down. This can’t be happening. It can’t be! How can I hang myself with someone else’s belt while in a straight jacket? None of this makes sense. I struggle against their advances. Finally, I am being forced back onto the bed and restrained to the sides to stop me from moving again.
I see him pass by the door from a gap in the crowd of doctors. Stepping into view and turning to face me. A slow smile pulls at his lips as he lifts a hand and taps his nose before stepping out of view. I reach up, and my fingers graze across a deep gouge in my face, as I realise, He was always in my head.