This is a head cannon and story about Pyro and their relationship with Engineer. Coming up with theories about Pyro is a guilty pleasure of mine, and this is one that I think fits this series the best.
Thanks, and enjoy! Not all chapters will be like this. Similar, but exactly like this.
Patient # 1664 Medical Journal Entries from the Year 1967
All entries were edited by a professional medical specialist for proper study and filing at the Misty Gold Asylum in Lakeway, Texas. Some entries were lost in the fire later that year, while others were redacted for sensitive material. Some material may be graphic and disturbing. Read at your own risk.
Dear Diary,
It's all white. Sickly white. And grey. I can see why those nice young men in their clean white coats wear that color. They want to make sure that the sick people don't feel alone. All sick people turn white…or at least pale. Maybe that's why they give us candy before making us have our medicine.
Sick people don't want their medicine though. Especially this new stuff. I guess it's because it tastes yucky. It's bitter and bites at your tongue and slides down your throat like a frog. Gross. But we all have to take it. Some more than others. I get a spoonful. My roommate gets 4…or is it 5? What's the number after 2? I dunno…I'm sure Dr. Carl told me…I guess I will ask him after my therapy session. He always answers my questions. Like what's the number after 2, where is Ha-why-ee, and what are those knitting needles are for.
Dear Diary,
It's 3. The number after 2. It's 3.
Its also really hot. I think the cold air broke. Again.
Dear Diary,
I forgot something. At least that's what my roommate tells me. I don't get it. They expecting me to remember what I forgot just by telling me that I forgot something?
Haha.
Sooner or later someone will tell them that they're crazy.
They came here a week ago, I think. They say they can hear voices, and that there is more than one person in their body. One is good. The other is bad.
Dear Diary,
Peter is really nice. He lives in the room across from me. I want him to be my roommate. My roommate is weird. I don't like them.
Peter likes puzzles. He does them all the time. He says the pretty pictures are fun to create. I saw them. They have no color. They are white too. Just lines. There are hundreds of thousands of pieces. How can he do them? It takes him forever to do them. He sometimes lets me help find the flat side pieces.
I like Peter.
Dear Diary,
Dr. Carl was acting strange today. Very strange. I asked him why he twiddled his thumbs and toes, and constantly walked around as we talked about my dreams and stuff, today. I don't think he answered my question, which he has never failed to do in the past. Instead, he just stared at me and asked if I remember those knitting needles I use? And the toy hammer? Sure I do. Says don't tell anyone that comes in here that doesn't live here about them. They won't understand.
He seemed…well, I don't know what he was, but it was weird. I told him he was. He rolled his eyes and said "of course you think I am weird. You can't feel feer, idiot." He said. Sometimes idiot is used like one of those terms men in white coats use. It's professional, they say. But this time, I don't think it was professional…
Rude.
Dear Diary,
Fear. That's a weird word. I hope I got the spelling right this time. My roommate said it was wrong last time I wrote it. But its ok, they said. They won't come and choke me in my sleep for it this time.
Thanks, roomie! I owe you one! I don't like being choked. It hurts and makes my insides feel funny, like they wanna come out and disappear.
They said I still was forgetting something. The voices were telling them that I was still forgetting something. I still don't remember.
Dear Diary,
My roommate lied. My neck and throat now hurt. It hurts to breathe. Still don't remember what I forgot.
Dear Diary,
Dr. Carl was showing a man around the building today. He stood out. He was from the outside. He didn't fit. He had a red cap. It shone bright. I followed them. Dr. Carl was pointing to all the cold air boxes, talking about how it wasn't working. The man just nodded and went down some steps. Steps that we can't go down. I wanted to follow and see more of the red hat. But Dr. Carl said I wasn't allowed down there. He said I should stay here, where its safe…
Fine…
Dear Diary,
The cold air is back. It feels so cold. It feels like that white fluff that supposed to fall from the sky on Christmas in the magic box with moving pictures. Its supposed to fall when its cold, right? I feel lazy today. I feel very empty. Tired.
I got a new nurse today. She gave me 2 spoonfuls of medicine today. Not one. Dr. Carl got mad at her. Started yelling. He then hit her like my roommate does sometimes to me. The nurse acted strange. She ran away like it was a game of tag and yelled out, but it wasn't happy, and not mad, and not sad. I wanted to play tag, but I'm too tired…
Dear Diary,
I want to see the red hat again. Red is a pretty color. Its better than white.
Dear Diary,
I saw something strange. Dr. Carl was doing something by the window. He had white sticks. Then he put one in his mouth. And he took out a small metal box. Siver and shiny. He then opened it and red came out! But more than red! Red, yellow, blue, orange, green, and purple! Rainbows! It was only a small bit. It was the same size as a penny. He put it to the white stick and it changed color! It too was like a rainbow! Then white fog came out of his mouth. It made a cloud…and then he closed the silver box. The rainbows were gone…but they weren't. Now the tip of the white stick is black and when he breathes, it makes a tiny rainbow, before white clouds came out of his mouth and nose. As he did so, the stick shrunk. When the sick was really really short, he squished it against the white wall, made a black spot, and the white fog coming from it disappeared. He then threw the stick out the window and closed it.
He can do magic…
Dear Diary,
I asked him to do the magic today. He looked at me funny. Like he did something bad and I had caught him doing it. He didn't want to. I was sad. I said I wanted to see the rainbows. I wanted to see color! After I cried, he took out the silver box and opened it. The rainbow came out! I stopped and just watched it. I wanted to touch it, but he stopped me. He said that rainbows were not to touch. That they were very pretty, but you can't touch them. Fine. I only wanted to see them anyway. He wouldn't let me hold the box. He said if I was good on my next session, I can see the rainbow again.
Dear Diary,
I miss the rainbows. Its too white here.
Dear Diary,
The cold air stopped again. Dr. Carl kept saying its fucking hot. I don't know what that means, but he looked almost mad. I guess fucking isn't a good thing.
Dear Diary,
I said the word fucking to my roommate. They said I was being bad for saying it. They hit my head against the white brick walls of our room. They said I wasn't remembering still. They said I was stupid. They said I was blind. They said I was being fooled by liars. That we all were fools. They said all men in white coats are liars. They said the voices told them so.
I saw red again. It was pretty. It was like paint, on those white walls. I put my hand to my ear. Red paint was coming from me. It was pretty…but I hurt. There was ringing. It was high.
Then black. Nothing.
I woke up in a bed with white cloth wrapped around my ear and head. They took away my hair. They said it was to get to the wound. They said I was lucky. Lucky for what? I asked them.
Lucky I didn't d-I, they said.
Dear Diary,
I hurt. They give me new white cloths every day all the time. I get a room to myself. Its lonely. Dr. Carl come to me now. He now shows me rainbows every day. He asked me if I could hear from my ear a sound. I heard nothing. He asked if my head hurt. I said I hurt all the time. He gave me two spoonfuls of medicine. I asked about my roommate.
He said they were [REDACTED]
I asked what that meant.
He said it meant I would be getting a new roommate.
I asked where they went.
He said that they went to see a man named god.
I asked when they were coming back.
He said they were never coming back.
Dear Diary,
I'm tired of the white walls. I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of being in this room.
Dear Diary,
I get to go to my new room tomorrow. I don't know how long I've been here. Its been forever.
Dear Diary,
My roommate does nothing. She just stares. Stares at the wall. Stares at the floor. Stares at me. Her eyes are strange. They look but don't see. Its weird. I don't like it.
I just don't like it.
Dear Diary,
The man with the red hat came back. He was here for the cold boxes again. This time Dr. Carl was busy. Busy putting knitting needles in someone's eyes. He looked bored. I don't like being bored either. He also looked sort of mad. I decided to make him happy.
I said hello. He jumped and backed into a corner. Was that a game? What was he doing?
I asked him if he was here to fix the cold boxes. He said he was, but was wondering where Dr. Carl was. I said he was busy. I remember Dr. Carl telling me to keep quiet about what he plays with. Said it was a secret between him and I.
I told him I liked his red hat. That I liked how bright it was in this white place. He smiled at me. He asked if I liked any other colors. I said I liked all colors, since I never see them. I told him about the pretty rainbows that Dr. Carl makes with a small silver box, and he looked like he didn't know what I was talking about. He looked like Peter when he was doing a puzzle in his room. I tried to explain, but Dr. Carl came out of his office. I guess he was done with his game. He looked surprised to see me, but not in a good way. He looked strange again. He told me to go back to my room and be good. I asked if I could see the rainbows if I was good, and if I could show the nice man. He said no.
Fine…
Dear Diary,
I liked that man with the red hat. He acted strange at first, but he was amazing afterwards. He was really nice. He spoke funny, though. Kind of like some of those people who ride horses and chase cows in the magic box with the moving pictures. I like his voice…
Dear Diary,
I want to see the man with the red hat again. I want to know his name. Peter says I can't. Says I will only be punished. I said I was tired of being bossed around, with people telling me what I can and can't do. I want to see him again. No one will stop me.
Dear Diary,
The cold air is gone. I wonder what happened…
Haha.
Dear Diary,
He came. I waited for him. Dr. Carl was held up again. Peter was having a fit over nothing.
Haha.
I said hello. He smiled at me and said hello. I love his voice. He asked me how I felt today. I said I was happy, because I was seeing him. His face turned a pretty pink. He asked if it was because of the hat. I said a little. I also liked his voice and how nice he was. His face turned a darker pink. I asked for his name.
Dell. Dell Conagher. He helped me spell it on my hand. He held my hand steady. The words were nice. Neat.
Dell…I like it. I said so. He smiled. I asked him of he only fixes the cold air. He said his job is may-ti-nance. But once he grad-you-ate-s colledge, he will have 11 PHDs. I asked him what that meant. He said it would make people call him a smarty pants at parties. Dr. Carl returned. His coat and hair were messy. I will have to thank Peter. I was told to go back to my room. I did so.
Dell said see you later.
See you later…
Dear Diary,
I lied. I lied to Dr. Carl about my dreams. I said I had no dreams. I dreamed I was somewhere else, surrounded by rainbows. I was covering a man in them. He was wearing blue. He had a strange face that was blue with holes where his eyes and mouth go. Dell was there and he was smiling with me. He thanked me.
It was a good dream.
Dear Diary,
A new man came in today. He was to live with us. And he was loud. His yelling made my ear hurt. I'm glad my left ear is broken. That way I can ignore at least half of him.
Dear Diary,
He is moving into the room next to Peter. I hear him though the walls. As he yells. He's so loud. I wish he would stop. He keeps on yelling about nat-Zs. I asked Peter what a nat-Z was. Peter said he didn't want to find out of the man keeps on yelling about them. I'll ask Dr. Carl what they are.
Dear Diary,
He didn't tell me. He said I shouldn't know. That the man was hurt by them, and that was why he was here. I feel sad for the man. He still yells. He says he's calling all Americans to fight. He says he wishes that he killed the fury himself. That hit-ler should have waited for him. Said he wanted his mus-stash.
I don't like mus-tashs. They are too scratchy and food gets in them. Its gross.
Dear Diary,
Peter couldn't sleep because of the yelling. I went to the man and asked him to stop. He had a shiny bowl on his head. He said no, that we all must fight. I said I don't see why. He said the nat-Z's were coming. I said I was tired, and that he should be happy instead of mad. He said he wasn't mad. He said he was upset that no one believed him. I said that we were safe here. They keep us here to keep us safe from the outside.
He said we were locked here so we didn't hurt the outside.
He said he saw people like us in a place called your-up. Said he fought there with a company of soldiers. Said there were camps. That there were walking scele-tons and [REDACTED]. Said it made him scared. I asked him what being scared was. He looked at me like he didn't know what I meant. He said that it is what you feel when someone points a gun at your head. What you feel when you are about to d-I.
Weird.
I never felt that when I should have d-I-ed. I just didn't like the hurt.
Dear Diary,
The man was taken to the pillow room. He was yelling at the cold air boxes. Dr. Carl ordered for him to stay there. I asked how long. He said until he calms down.
Dear Diary,
He hasn't calmed down. It's actually quiet.
Good.
But I miss Dell.
Its been forever.
Dear Diary,
Cold air boxes broken.
Haha.
Dear Diary,
Peter is having a fit for no reason.
Haha.
Dell came back. He greeted me with a smile. He looked tired. I asked him why. He said he grad-you-ated and that he was looking for a job. I asked what kind. He said he wanted to be a en-gin-neer. I wished him luck. He thanked me. He said he wanted to build things instead of fix them. I asked him what he would build. He said anything that would help people. I asked if he could build me a unicorn to fly me away from this place.
He was quiet. He asked why I wanted to leave.
I said I wanted colors and that I wanted to be away from the hurt. I said I wanted rainbows. I said I was tired too. Tired of white.
He was quiet. His eyes got shiny. His eyes rained. Was he crying? He shook his head no. He said he couldn't do that. He said he couldn't get me out of here. He said he was sorry. I said it was ok.
I'll find my own rainbows soon. I tried to make him smile. He said he couldn't at the moment. He said he was upset. Sad. I felt sad too.
Because I made him cry.
Dear Diary,
Peter is sick. He said he didn't feel good. He kept on going to the bathroom. He said his stomach and throat hurt. He started to cough. He was coughing a lot. Red paint came out. It was pretty, but he was hurting. I stayed with him.
Dear Diary,
Peter was cold when I visited him. He wasn't moving. His bed was covered in red paint. It was coming out of his mouth. He was white. He looked like he was sleeping. I waited for him to wake up.
I waited.
I waited.
I waited.
Dear Diary,
The nurse came in and screamed. She ran out of the room. I wanted to play tag, but I wanted peter to play too.
I waited.
Dr. Carl came in. He forced me out of the room. He told me to stay in mine.
I asked what was wrong.
He said Peter had d-I-ed.
I asked what that meant.
He said he would tell me later.
Dear Diary,
I'll never see Peter again…
I miss Dell…
Dear Diary,
I am in a private room. They call it quar-ant-tine. They said I may have what peter had. They said had Two-burk-you-low-sis. They also called it TB. Everyone looks weird.
Dear Diary,
The man who yells is in the pillow room. The pillow room is next to my room. I yell to him through the wall. I said what happened to peter. He said that happened in a place called Franse in your-up, when he was with the armee. He said he lost his lew-ten-ant to TB. Said it was a sickness that is easily caught. More so than a cold. I said the doctors and nurses were acting funny. He asked me what they were doing. I said they check everyone's tem-per-at-ture-s and don't let anyone share food or toys. He said they were scared. He said that TB spreads easily in this sort of place with closed in walls.
Dear Diary,
I tried to yell through the wall to the man. He didn't yell back. He was silent. A nurse came by with a tray for me. I asked her if the man was ok. She said she would check. She walked out of the room. She screamed. She ran. She was acting strange. I guess she was this thing he called scared. She came back with Dr. Carl. He looked surprised. I managed to get out of my room without them noticing. The door to the room had a metal space that opened. It was like a mini door. They were looking through it. I did too. There was a hole in the pillowed walls. And it led to the outside.
The man with the shiny bowl on his head was gone.
I miss Dell…
Dear Diary,
I was told to go back to my room and rest. I didn't have the TB. When I went back, my roommate was gone. I asked where she was. The nurse told me that she had passed on. I asked what she meant. She said she met god. I asked her if that meant she wasn't coming back.
She said I'm afraid not.
Is meeting god scary? Maybe I don't want to meet him…
Dear Diary,
I feel sad. I feel alone. I went to peter's room and took his puzzles. I brought them to my room. I opened a box and threw the pieces on the smooth white floor. How odd.
The pieces were now a reddish brown, they looked like someone had painted on them. I started putting them together. They didn't fit.
I tried again.
And again.
And again
And again…
Dear Diary,
I finished the puzzle. Peter wrote something on the puzzle after he was done. He did it with this brownish red dried paint.
It said [REDACTED]
Peter…I will.
Dear Diary,
I want to see Dell. The cold air boxes wont break. Its odd. He said he was there to fix may-ten-nance. What is that?
Dear Diary,
It means anything that breaks in this place. What else can I do?
Dear Diary,
The pipes broke suddenly.
Haha
Dear Diary,
A different man came. Not Dell. He too wore a red hat. I didn't care. I asked him if he knew Dell. He said he did. I asked him where he was.
He said he was gone.
I asked where.
He said he got a job somewhere else.
I asked where.
He said he didn't know.
My chest hurts. It hurts all over. I feel sick. I feel alone. I feel squished. I feel something tightening.
Someone is screaming.
Dr. Carl is holding me down.
The person screaming is me.
Dear Diary,
I'm in the pillow room. I've been bad, Dr. Carl says. I'm angry. I'm sad. I'm lonely. No one comes in here to talk or touch. No one put their arms around me.
I miss Peter.
I miss Dell.
I miss the man with the shiny bowl for a hat.
I miss Dell.
I miss my roommate, even if they tried to make me d-I.
I miss Dell.
Dear Diary,
I made friends with the mice. They showed me their house. It's a hole in the pillows. I talk to the mice. They show me how to make a hole. I make one too. They tell me to cover the hole with my body. So no one will find it.
Dear Diary,
The hole can hold my hand. Its big. There are strings inside. I try to pull, but the mice tell me not to. They said to wait.
Alright.
Dear Diary,
I open the hole more. I smile with glee.
Color! Oh mice, you really are my friends! Red and green and blue and yellow strings! The white strings I don't care about. The mice say I should wait. Wait for the right time.
Wait for what, I ask. Wait for them to tell me when.
Alright.
Dear Diary,
The mice hid in my pockets. They said it was time. They said pull the strings. I tried. They didn't come out. They said harder. I did. Still nothing. I pulled as hard as I could. They broke. Little white balls flashed and the light from the hall went out. The small dots of white light went everywhere. The mice told me to not touch them. The white lights landed on some fluff from the walls.
RAINBOWS!
*Lakeway is a an area very near Bee Cave, Texas, and has a considerably small population. Whether there actually is an Asylum there is beyond my knowledge.
* Lobotomies are high risk procedures, and were very commonly done to patients diagnosed with insanity. At the time, people were getting desperate to find cures for insanity. This desperation caused recklessness and inhuman practices to be placed upon patients. And since they were insane, they were often taken to be less than human anyway. (If you get queasy easily, don't read the rest of this paragraph). Lobotomies entailed lifting the eyelid, slipping a long thin spike (ice picks were often used) above the eyeball and below the surrounding flesh of the eye socket and pushing upwards at a 45º (degree) angle until the tip brushed against the thin and fragile bone surface that separates the brain from the eye socket. The Doctor would then take a blunt end of a tool (or a small hammer) and tap the end of the spike to break into the bone to break through and reach the frontal lobe of the brain. Lastly, the doctor would then scrape away the connections of the prefrontal cortex, destroying parts or all of the frontal lobe, depending upon what the patient was suffering from. Lobotomies were often done without anesthetics, but instead done when the patient had gone through high doses Electro-convulsive shocks to subdue them. They still could feel everything, but their body was unable to react.