Chapter 58: Chapter 58

Chapter 58 I awoke to the sound of nothing

I awoke to the sound of nothing.

Everything was deathly still as I took in my surroundings. I was in a padded cell, the pads were pale colored and soft beneath me. The dimensions of the cell was about seven by eight feet and I was curled into the corner with a scratchy white blanket draped over my shoulders.

I'm wearing a light grey hospital gown and I would be feeling self conscious that the back of the gown was open and I was bare for all to see. But I feel too heavy, sore, and drowsy to care much as of this moment.

I knew the sedative they administered to me was still wearing off and I knew that I was also doped up on drugs for pain. I tried to sit up but my head felt so dizzy that I just collapsed back down again.

Both of my arms were wrapped snugly in tight gauze. I remember what I did and I don't regret it.

I would do it again and again until I achieved what I wanted.

And now I'm disappointed to be alive because now, I'm locked in a padded cell of a mental institution. The worst part is, that the little boy still hasn't left me.

He sits in the far right corner of my cell. His knees are against his chest and his arms are wrapped tightly around his legs. He stares at me with a blank look.

We can't he just leave me alone?

My bottom lip wobbles and I cry in frustration. I get it. I understand what I did was wrong. I understand I'm a murderer. I understand that I deserve this. I understand. I understand. I understand! So why then, can't I just find some peace? Why can't this boy leave me? Why can't I just be normal?

I find the strength to sit up. I lean into the corner, hugging my knees to my chest and setting my chin on top of them. My arms produce a dull throb and I shut my eyes in hopes to sleep off the drowsiness that haunts me.

But I have no such luck.

Because moments later, two people, one younger man and one younger woman, dressed in long white lab coats enters the room. They approach me like I'm sort of abused animal as their steps are slow and cautious.

"Lily," The woman calls, "How are you feeling, Lily?"

I look up at her crystal blue eyes full of genuine kindness. I blink once. Then twice. I couldn't believe that I was seeing the first real kindness in a human in three years.

The man has dark brown hair that is neatly slicked back. His eyes are just as dark as his hair and his gaze is calculating. I don't like it. I feel like I'm being analyzed like an experiment or like some type of animal in a zoo.

And he has a clipboard in his hand as well as a pen. He's taking notes. He's taking notes and analyzing me to see just how crazy I am.

My eyes go back to the woman who offers me a small, nice smile as she walks closer to me. I let my guard down. They're here to help. They're here to help. They're here to help. I chant in my mind.

I find my voice. "I-I don't know." It's barely above a whisper. I watch as the man nods and scribbles something down on his clipboard.

She squats down in front of me, looking at me in the eyes as she gently turns me right arm over so that it's palm up.

"W-what are you d-doing?" I ask warily.

She smiles sweetly at me. "Just checking. I would like to evaluate you, is that okay?" She asks.

I stare blankly back at her and nod slightly.

She asks me if I have any pain, or muscle aches and the usual doctor related questions. At first, I think it's all normal as she asks the common questions about my health and my body. I answer them the best I can as the man writes down the information on the clipboard.

"Do you experience any nightmares?" She asks, raising a brow.

"Yes. Every time I close my eyes. Except....I still face nightmares even when I'm conscious," I answer back, "Is that normal?"

She looks at the young man with a wary look but she quickly diverts her gaze from him and focuses on me again. "Could you go into depth on what you see?"

I shake my head. I don't want to talk about it. And the little boy in the corner doesn't want me talking about it, either. His eyes are actually filled with something other than nothing this time.

And that is anger.

I am scared.

"Lily? Lily, are you with me?" The doctor snaps me out of my trance.

"Yes." I reply blankly.

"You don't want to talk about it? Do you see things? Do you hallucinate, perhaps?" She pries more.

"Please stop..." I warn shakily, my voice cracking.

"Lily, we're here to help. It's important you tell us every little deta-"

"Stop! Stop talking! I can't take this!" I cry, holding my head in my hands and covering my ears. Her voice. It hurts me. Their voices. I hear them. They mix with hers. Who's there?

I don't even realize I'm muttering incoherent words when the doctor suddenly forces me down so that I'm lying on my back. The male doctor with the clipboard assists her to hold me down as they sink the head of another needle into the skin of my arm.

"I'm sorry, Lily. We don't want you hurting yourself and this is for your own safety. I'm giving you a light sedative, it's not enough to knock you out but it's enough to make you incapacitated while we examine you." The female doctor informs me.

I felt slightly betrayed that the doctor, whom had acted so nice to me, is now doping me up with drugs again.

But if it's for my own good, then so be it.

The sedative is indeed light.

I feel sleepy and weak. All I can do is lie there as they shine their bright lights in my eyes.

They speak words but everything is jumbled and hazy and I don't know what's happening. It feels as if I'm in a dream state.

They both lift me up and carry me out of the padded cell. I am placed on a cold metal table. I try to move my arm in an attempt to reach out and touch the female doctor's arm.

But the only thing I can move is my fingers.

The pain starts to come back in painful throbs all the way up my arms. I groan in pain and the doctors look down at me as they wheel me into another room.

The ceiling lights are white and they burn into my eyes. I weakly turn my head so that I'm looking to the side to avoid the painful lights blaring in my eyes. Both my arms are spread out length apart from me and my wrists are firmly strapped down to the metal table. The same thing is done with my ankles, and I was scared.

What are they doing to me?

My heart monitor beeps loudly and quickly and I struggle to breathe as I panic.

"Lily, calm down. We just have to check your wounds, alright?" The soothing voice of the female doctor says.

I calm down just a little bit. I have to be honest, for a moment there I thought they were going to do weird experiments on me like those creepy movies that take place in mental asylums.

The bandages on my arms are stripped off and the air feels cold against the skin that has been covered. I shiver and I turn my head to the left to look at the deep self-inflicted wound I have made.

It's been stitched.

But that doesn't stop it from looking red and raw. The wound is large and slightly raised. It runs from the base of my wrist all the way up to my elbow. The wound itself and the flesh around it is a bright red.

My right wrist looks the same, only I didn't have a chance to run the metal all the way up to my elbow. It runs from my wrist to about halfway from my elbow.

But it looks just as bad.

The two doctors inspect the wounds and clean them. I wince and grown in pain as they touch the raw flesh.

"Lily, can you tell me, on a scale from one to ten, how much pain you are feeling?" The female doctor asks.

I grit my teeth as they dab at the wounds again. "E-eight."

She nods to the male nurse and they administer more pain medication to me. I feel so drowsy from all the medications that my consciousness seems to be hanging by a thread. I fight my sleep, not wanting to pass out in the presence of strangers.

The female doctor lays a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Sleep, Lily. You're okay. You need rest."

I look up at her face and I notice that she's not only blurry, but there's two of her. I'm having double vision and my eyes feel heavier and heavier by the second.

My eyes blink once more before I finally am sucked into the darkness, in hopes of sleeping off the drugs in my system.

* * *

I'm back in the padded cell again. I could tell from the moment that I opened up my eyes, I wasn't as groggy and drowsy like last time. The drugs had worn off a bit and I felt a lot better. I glanced at the little boy in the corner, reminding myself that he was a mere hallucination.

He was nothing more than a figment of my crazy mind.

I should tell the doctors about him. Maybe they can make him go away. But what if they deem me as completely insane? Maybe I am in a way....

I am served three meals daily and escorted to the bathroom four times daily. It's just like prison, only doctors are analyzing me and studying my behavior. They bother me with their questions and often times, they try to trap me with their questions.

I answer them the best I can, however, I'm worried to tell them about exactly what is going on. I recently found out that there was cameras in my padded cell. Though, I'm not surprised by that fact at all.

However, they use the cameras to study me when I sleep. They watch me when I'm sleeping and study my nightmares. I thrash around and scream when I have nightmares, making it obvious what is happening when I'm sleeping.

Then, the next morning, they question me about them. The questions prod deep and they are personal. Some questions are so hard that even I myself can't answer them.

But they are close to reaching my breaking point, and they know it.

What I have learned is that mental institutions aren't as scary as the movies make it seem. The lights don't flicker on and off and mold doesn't crawl everywhere. There are no ghosts nor spirits to haunt me.

There is, however, the occasional scream from another patient. Some patients lash out in violence and often times their screams echo down the hallways, chilling me to the bone.

My arms have healed quite a bit. They have scabbed over and everyday I hate myself more and more when I notice that they will become prominent, ugly scars from my ordeal. I've been assigned to stay in this mental institution for a year and, if my mental health evaluation turns out clear, I will be set free.

The prison has decided to let me out early on a mental plea, totaling four years in captivity when I was supposed to receive five.

The doctors come in later that day. The woman is named Patricia, as I've found out, and the man is named Samuel. They work as a team and assess my mental capacity and my recovery. They also keep me fed, dressed, and healthy.

I don't talk to them much. The only time I talk to them is when they demand questions from me.

"Good morning Lily, how are you?" Samuel asks. I simply shrug. There's not much to say when your life is confined to a seven by eight padded cell.

Patricia helps me up and they both take me out of the padded cell and across the white hallways to a room. It looks similar to a counselling room, with the fluffy sofa and a chair for the doctors to question me in.

Once I'm seated on the couch, Patricia sits down on the chair and gestures to Samuel to leave. He nods in understanding and the daily ritual of questioning begins.

Patricia pulls out her clipboard and clicks her pen into action as she crosses her leg over the other. "So, Lily, could you please tell me what was in your recent nightmare?"

I shrug. "It was just the usual. I don't know why you ask me this every day."

She raises an eyebrow. "And the usual consists of?"

I roll my eyes. "The crash scene. You know this already." And that is partly the truth. I know what answer she really wants, though. Ever since I slipped up on my words when I first arrived, she's been prying me constantly.

Ever since I said "I still face nightmares even when I'm conscious," they both have been prying. And what I mean by that is, the little boy. He still haunts me in both dream state and conscious state.

I also have hallucinations which, seem to tear me to pieces when I'm alone. They usually only happen when I'm alone, and they're so vivid that I cry and scream every time. The doctors always rush in the room when it happens and question me, but I'm always too hysterical to speak.

And I'm exhausted. I'm tired of hiding that and maybe, they truly can help me if I tell them.

I sigh. "Fine, I will tell you."

Patricia's eyes light up when those words leave me lips and I almost gag at her delighted expression.

"I...see things. Every time you witness me screaming when I'm conscious, it's because of what I see. I see the crash, I see people screaming at me, I see the shattered glass that had cut me open. I see the soulless eyes of the people that have died by my fault. But...what haunts me the most, perhaps, is...." I glance at the little boy who stares angrily at me in the room.

He looks scary and his eyes glow red. His fingers start to turn purple and rot off. I can smell his rotting flesh and tears swim in my eyes as his eye sockets become empty and black. This has never happened before.

I scramble off of the couch, away from him.

"Lily? Lily, what's wrong?" Patricia's voice sounds like a mere echo in my brain. But when she lays a hand on my shoulder and shakes me, I snap out of it. Physical touch always helps me snap out of my trances.

"I want you to tell me what exactly you saw." She says sternly, looking me in the eyes.

I pant as tears drown my cheeks. And with a shaky voice, I tell her all about the little boy that's been haunting me for the past couple years.