I had a dream last night. No therapist. No psychiatric ward. No doctors. I was flying through the sky, not weighted down by anyone or anything. I wasn't considered crazy. Nobody told me I was not perfect, nobody told me that I was going to get better.
"Beatrice," says a cheery voice breaking off my thoughts. Ms. Matthews. Ms. Matthews is my doctor and therapist. They say that she's one of the best in the field and top of her class. But she's not. She has to be the worst of the worse. When I say or do something intelligent or show signs of getting better, she has to perform tests, painful tests. I've learned to keep my mouth shut around her.
"I have great news!" She says. I tilt my head at her. A cunning smile forms on her lips as she noticed my docile behavior. She likes it when I act dumb and oblivious. I think she likes power a little too much.
"You are officially 24 and have been keeping up very good behavior," I honestly no use in this information whatsoever. My age doesn't matter at this point. I could be 90 but they still wouldn't let me out. But I do agree that I've learned not to say too little or too much. When I first got here when I was 10, I was pretty good about staying quiet. When I turned 14 I realized exactly what they thought I was. I screamed that I wasn't crazy for hours. That only made them give me sedatives to keep me down. I'm pretty sure it also convinced the whole team that I was crazy.
"How does that affect me?" I say. It's one of the lines I can repeat as many times as I want. I keep a mental list of what I've said time and time again to make sure Ms. Matthews can't see that I'm getting smarter.
"Well I have some good news and some sad news," I don't reply.
"Good news is that I have a special gift for you and you're being moved,"
"Moved?" I say a little too quickly. I've been in this room for quite a while. I've grown quite fond of it but I'd love to get out of here.
"Yes, to a much better room. But, there is sad news. I will no longer be your major doctor. You were lucky when you first got me as your doctor. But, you've come a long way, Beatrice," Finally, I got this power-hungry narcissist off my back.
"Who will be-" She cuts me off.
"A doctor. He will talk to you every day and check up on you every night. I tried to keep you as my patient but the hospital made some changes," she says. I don't want a doctor who's a guy. I'm not sexist or anything but if I really am a little crazy, I don't want to be taken advantage of.
"Anyways, today's our last day today and I thought we should talk a little,"
"Ok,"
"So, I know it took a while for you to open up to me but I can promise that you'll be in good hands,"
"Ok,"
"I have a few surprises for you because of how well you've behaved and how much you've cooperated over these last few months. Would you like to see them?," she says with a smile. Fake. I nod my head. She unlocks my door and looks at me expectantly. I immediately get up and follow behind her. I'm surprised when she doesn't grab my hand to lead me like she usually does.
"I trust that you'll follow me," I nod and don't try anything. I tried running once but I didn't get far. I was chased and knocked out.
"You can't keep me here! I'm not crazy! This isn't a hospital! It's a fucking prison!" I hear a strong male voice yell as he's being pulled back. I stop walking to stare. He has dark skin and even darker eyes. He can't be any old than me and he probably hasn't been here too long. I watch as the men hold him back, bringing a cloth over his mouth and nose as he struggles against them. I watch as he goes limp in their arms after a few seconds of struggling.
"Beatrice!" I hear Ms. Matthews's voice, strict and with hints of bitterness and annoyance. I immediately look away and catch up with her. After a little more walking, we reach a room. She opens the door to reveal a slightly larger room. The walls are painted blue, rather than the white I was used to. The bed looked softer and the pillow looked plusher.
"Thank you," I whisper.
"Beatrice, no need to say thank you. You've been so cooperative and so easy to work with. A treat was in order. Just remember, this can be taken away too," she says, ending with an evil smile. I smile at her, not a real smile, but it's enough to placate her.
"I'll leave you to explore your new room," She says with a smile. It wasn't very big and there wasn't much to explore, but it was a definite upgrade. I wait for the lock to click as she locked my door from the outside before jumping towards the desk. Usually, the doctor would sit there and take notes or do something like that. I snoop around a little bit, trying to get a feel for the room. At least half an hour passes and I almost lose track of time. Then, I hear the lock click and I jump back to the bed and try to look as comfortable as possible. The door swings open to reveal a man. Who is he? Why is he here? He doesn't look familiar. He's tall, at least 6'3 and muscular. He wants to hurt me.
" ! !" I scream over and over again. It's sad that I'm calling her name for help. What else can I do? I frantically look for the emergency button which is usually located next to the bed. My screaming obviously surprises him because he starts to take a few steps back.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he says, trying to soothe me. I finally find the button and press it.
" ! !" I continue to scream. A few seconds later, Ms. Matthews comes rushing with doctors by her side, looking between me and the unfamiliar man.
"Dr. Eaton! I expected better from you. You should know that Beatrice is very sensitive. I was supposed to introduce you to her," Ms. Matthews scolds. My breathing returns to normal after I take a few deep breaths.
"She wasn't supposed to be in the room this early," he fires back.
"Anyways, you gave Beatrice quite a scare so let's put this behind us and start anew," says.
"I'm Dr. Eaton. What's your name?" he says taking a step forward towards me. Why would he ask? He already knows my name.
"Is that one hard for you? That's fine," he says gently. With her clipboard and pen, Ms. Matthews smiles with a perfect row of teeth and says,
"Well, I'll let you introduce yourselves and get to know each other. But this was supposed to be my day with Beatrice," She says with annoyance before finally walking out.
"It's nice to meet you, Beatrice. Is there anything you'd like to ask me?" he says.
"What's wrong with me?" I say. The words just tumble out of my mouth without me properly thinking about them. For a second, I think he's going to scold me as Ms. Matthews would've. But, he doesn't. He thinks for a while, clearly thinking over the question.
"Nothing," he responds. I take the answer and decide to bite back my response.
"So, your name is Beatrice, right?" I nod.
"Do you have any nicknames?" he asks. I want to believe that he's genuinely asking but I know he's getting paid to do this. I remember I used to have a nickname. Then they took me away and I was known as Beatrice.
"I-I used to be called Tris," I stammer in barely above a whisper.
"Would you like to play a game?" I shake my head no.
"What would you like to do?" he asks. I want to get out of here. I want to walk. I want to see the bright sky. I want to see the sun. I want to call my mom. I shrug.
"Hmm, I'll let you get some rest and I'll be back tonight," he makes his way to the door, about to close it behind him. Then, I think of something he might be able to do.
"Wait," I say. But it's too late, the door has already been closed and locked. This room has no source of entertainment so it's going to be a long wait. I make a mental list of everything in the room.
1 bed
1 bedside table
1 desk (not for me)
4 blue walls
2 cabinets (probably with clothes and hospital gowns
1 emergency button
1 restroom button (I press it so someone can escort me to the restroom)
1 small bucket
1 therapist call button
1 food button (only can be used 4 times a day unless you want just water. Breakfast, Lunch, Snack, Dinner, and endless water)
1 small drawing (probably made by a teenager, judging by the artistic skill)
1 Light switch
I study the drawing for a little bit. It features three ravens flying freely out of a cage. Maybe the artist is from the ward.
Next, I check the bedside table. I open up the first drawer to find four children's book When I'm feeling sad. When I'm feeling angry. When I'm feeling nervous. When I'm feeling scared. All by Tracey Moroney. I guess it's better than nothing. I remember how to read. Ms. Matthews used to bring me books to monitor my reading ability. When I was 12 she brought me a book about a wizard boy, only the first book. I wish I could've finished it, it was a great book. The wizard boy was rescued from a negligent family and brought into the great wizarding world. My stomach rumbles slightly but I ignore it and lay down on the bed. I lean over and flick the light switch, something new. The blankets are softer and warmer. The mattress is strong. The pillow is so, so soft. I pull the blanket up to my neck and slowly start to drift off.
I dream that I'm with my mother. She's wearing her soft perfume, just enough to be one spray at most. She runs into a garden maze, beckoning me to follow her. I follow her, smiling at the feeling of the warmth of the sun and the warm summer breeze. I quickly walk to try to catch up with my mother. Every time I turn, I can just barely see her. The garden is suddenly gone and I can feel my mother embracing me. My eyes are shut until I feel myself being pulled away. I look at my mother's face and she tightly grasps my hands, trying to keep her hold on me. A man walks up to her and whispers something to her, causing her to loosen her grip on my hands, and finally, let go.
"No! No! No! I'm not crazy! You can't take me away," I scream. I'm suddenly thrown into a room, hearing whispers. I'm not crazy.
"Divergent," I hear Ms. Matthews whisper.
I shoot up, awake. I can't even escape them in my sleep. I sit up in the bed and stare at the wall in the dark. I don't how much time has passed, just that I don't want to sleep right now. I remember how I called Ms. Matthews when I had needed help and the mere thought sickened me. Who else is going to care just a bit? An abrupt knock at snaps me out of my thoughts. I quickly lie down and pretend to sleep, shutting my eyes as the door opens. Sometimes, if they think I'm sleeping, they leave and I don't have to talk to them.
"Beatrice, I'm going to need you to wake up. You need to eat," My new doctor gently tries shaking me a little, not too roughly. Eating does sound nice at the moment. I didn't have lunch and only had a little breakfast. I take my time opening my eyes and adjusting myself up. Then, I finally look at him.
"I'm not hungry," I lie. It's the lamest thing I can think of, but it's something. He sighs, places down the tray, and pulls a chair into the room, sitting down next to my bed.
"According to these charts, over the last few months, you have continued to lose weight. In January you were 114 pounds and now, August, you're 109 pounds. You're only 5'5 and..." I tune out as he talks. He kind of reminds me of my brother. Always relating back to charts and explaining things fully. Caleb was smart and a huge nerd but he was always more popular than me. I enjoy the bittersweet analogy between the two for a moment before I notice Dr. Eaton looking at me expectantly. What did he ask me?
"Huh?" I reply dumbly. One good thing about being thrown here is that the people are required to be patient.
"Do you care about your health?" He asks. If you were taken away and thrown into lifeless prison would you care about your health? If only I could say what I wanted to say. Instead, I just nod.
"Then eat," he says, getting up and grabbing the tray. He puts it on my lap and looks at me, waiting. I just stare at the food blankly.
"Can you talk to me then?" I take a closer look at him, the bags under his eyes, how his nearly perfect suit has been crumpled since morning, and how his patience is starting to run thin.
"Ok," I say. I don't want to be 'demoted' or get in trouble for not being easy to work with.
"I see you've been looking at these books," he says pointing to the books on my table. I nod.
"Did you read them?" I shake my head.
"Do you like reading?" I nod my head.
"What else do you like to do?"
"What else can I do? I'm only allowed to sit in this room, read, talk with the same person, two if I'm lucky, like twice a day, be escorted to the restroom, and be escorted to the shower. If you didn't notice, they don't allow patients to have many hobbies here," I replied bitterly. I've forgotten how to breathe when talking and I haven't said that much in a long time.
"Progress, progress," he mutters quietly. It isn't condescending, just analytical.
"What makes you talk more?" He asks. I shrug, back to my usual reply. He gets up and places the clipboard on the desk and walks back to me.
"Are you happy here?" He asks after a few moments of silence. No.
"I'm not sad," I say. This isn't a lie. I'm not happy, but I'm not sad either.
"That's not the question,"
"But it's my answer,"
"Eat," I shake my head no.
"Please?" I lift the fork and take the tiniest bite of food.
"A little more?" I take a slightly bigger bite. I'm really hungry but I don't feel like eating.
"You skipped lunch. You must be hungry," he declares. I shake my head no. Then, as if on cue, my stomach growls.
"I'll take that as a yes," I take a normal-sized bite and glare at him. At least he's not as annoying at Ms. Matthews when it comes down to eating. I've heard the 'Beatrice, I am heavily disappointed in you. Many people in this world starve every year and you refuse to eat the food that has been graciously put in front of you' a thousand times. I hear a buzz and my eyes immediately go to Dr. Eaton. It's his phone. He takes it out and glances at it.
"Excuse me, I'll be right back. Please eat while I'm gone. I'll be back." he says and then he grabs his clipboard and walks out of the room and locks. I wonder who's texting him. Maybe his mother? No, his father. He seems cool enough to have friends. Maybe he has a wife? Children? That must be nice. I take a big bite and chew my food carefully. I eat quickly finishing half of my food quickly. Guess I was really hungry. After about ten minutes, I hear the familiar click of a lock and look at the door. Who were you talking to? He looks at me surprised and it takes me a few seconds to realize I said that out loud. Great job. Now I've crossed the line.
"No one important," he says, smoothing out his shirt awkwardly. He glances at my tray and smiles.
"Keep on eating. It's giving you energy," he says. We sit in silence as I finish my tray.
"Great. Well, I'll take the tray. Tomorrow is testing, I take it that you know what to do. Good night," he says, and lets himself out. The lock clicks and I sigh. I get up and study the cabinet. I pull out a nightgown. I change out of my clothes and fold them neatly and keep them on the desk. Something blue catches my eyes underneath the cabinet. A logo. I get on my knees and tilt my head, trying to read the bottom of the cabinet. Eaton's Hospital for the Sick.
Was the man I'm talking to the owner? Maybe it's a coincidence. Scenarios cross against my mind. Maybe my family has signed something allowing the hospital to put me to sleep and die a 'painless' death. Maybe I'm being tested to see if they can let me out. I smiled at that thought. Dozens of thoughts flow through my mind, good and bad. I choose one of the first ones I thought of, He's doing a final test to release me and name me as a perfectly normal human. I have to convince him that I'm normal. Hope is a dangerous thing for me to have considering how many years I've been here.
A/N: Next Chapter? Probably in a week or two depending on some things. My old shared my open up. I don't know when but it probably will. Please Review.
