.
"Mother."
Since the day he was born, the red-haired woman had done her best to provide for her son; to cover his every need and want, often before the boy even knew what he wanted. Gloria couldn't stand to see a child suffer and, to her mind, denying him anything she could provide for him would cause avoidable suffering. Indulging her son was the only way she knew how to nurture. It was how she was raised.
She viewed her boy with a mother's eyes. Despite warnings from others, she steadfastly refused to see what a beast he'd become—until that spring day in the garden, when she turned to see him standing there on the veranda, covered in blood.
"Oh, Dandy!" she cried in dismay. She dropped her shears and ran to him, as swift as she could move in her layered crinoline petticoats would allow. "Dandy, what have you done?"
She started to reach for him, but he was so completely covered in gore, she couldn't find a spot that was safe to touch. Her hand fluttered to her throat instead. His ghastly state was a direct contrast to her neat attire: She wore a sunny yellow dress and a wide-brim straw hat with a sunflower on its band. Dandy was almost completely red, mostly naked save for the Hanes briefs and white Converse trainers he wore.
Not white. They were red, too, splattered with blood. So much blood.
"Let's get you into the bath," she said, her voice stronger than a whisper.
Inside she felt sick and numbed, like a great chill had come over her from the inside. She could no longer pretend her darling boy wasn't normal. For his sake and hers, something had to be done.
..
She helped him scrub off the worst of the mess in the tub where she'd bathed him all his life. It went like any other bath except that this time, Gloria drew it for him herself, instead of having the maid do it. She added the bubble solution herself; she had to read the bottle to see how it was done. Even still, she put in twice as much as the bottle called for because she wanted nothing to upset Dandy. If there weren't enough bubbles, he wouldn't want to take his bath.
When the bath was full and loaded to the brim with bubbles, she helped him get undressed and into the tub. He was very quiet; detached but cooperative when she scrubbed him gently with the washcloth.
It was messy business and she wished she'd had the presence of mind to put on something older to wear while she washed him. The sunny sundress would be ruined beyond recovery before she was through with the cleanup. She didn't say anything as she worked to clean off the gore. She certainly didn't ask anything. She didn't want to know what he'd done. She didn't even want to imagine it.
Once she had him clean, she ran a fresh warm bath with all new bubbles for him to soak in. He sat in it exactly the same way he'd sat while she washed him: Slightly hunched over with his arms resting between his knees in the water, staring at his warped reflection in the silvery faucet.
Gloria left him there after gently toweling his damp hair so it wouldn't drip in his eyes while she was gone. Then she stepped out of the room.
..
Dandy felt better after the double bath. Certainly better than he would have expected to feel, had he thought about it.
Killing the young man he'd met at the park had been an unparalleled rush. Each time he'd plunged the blade into the athletic fellow's body, Dandy had felt a surge of pleasure: A carnal reward that made him hungry for the next thrust.
His sexual experiences up to that point had been limited to what his hand and stuffed animals could provide. But pretending to fuck the oversized stuffed bear that sat in the corner of the playroom hadn't given him nearly the reward he'd gotten from stabbing that stranger to death. And it never would have happened if the man had just let Dandy pay him for some sort of sexual favor. But the jogger, handsome and well-built and wearing provocatively short-shorts, had refused. He'd called Dandy a faggot.
Dandy had never been formally trained to fight. His mother would never have permitted him to try such a dangerous thing as boxing. But he was strong and when he punched the man, he hit him hard enough to knock him down. The jogger struck his head on a low concrete retaining curb liner and lay there dazed.
It was all the opportunity Dandy had needed.
He'd stabbed and stabbed until the man stopped moaning and moving. Then Dandy had stripped down with every intention of having his way with the corpse. He got as far as his underpants when a boy came into the bathroom. He saw Dandy and the body. Dandy saw him.
"Hey, little boy," he said, putting on what he thought was a charming smile. It was actually fairly unhinged but it felt friendly to him. He took a step closer, moving like he was approaching a scared bunny rabbit. "Don't be scared. We're just playing."
The boy, who was about twelve, looked from Dandy to the body on the floor. "Doesn't look like playing."
"We're acting," Dandy assured hastily. "We're both actors. Very serious actors. We're rehearsing for a play we're in. Shakespeare."
The boy looked doubtful. "Okay," he said, backing up.
"No, wait!" Dandy said and came closer. He held a bloody hand out to the boy. He couldn't let him just leave after what he'd seen. "We need another person. Can you act?"
"I have to go," the boy said, backing up more.
"No, please!"
The boy turned and ran. Dandy swore and lunged after him, but the boy was too quick. So Dandy had to run too. And he had; all the way home.
The bath had grown lukewarm. It made Dandy unhappy. He didn't like sitting in lukewarm water getting pruney.
"Mother," he called. "I'm ready to get out!"
There was no answer.
"Mother!" he yelled impatiently, anger rising. When there was still no response, he yelled as loudly as he could: "MOTHER!"
No answer. Furious, Dandy got out of the bath by himself. He was so worked up that he slipped and nearly fell, which only made him angrier. He grabbed a towel and slung it around his waist then grabbed his fluffy white robe and stuffed his arms into the sleeves. He was so mad, he didn't even bother to put on his slippers.
"Mother!" he shouted again as he reached for the door. "I said—"
When he threw open the door to the hall, he was immediately faced with a small crowd of people. At the front of the crowd were two large men in white hospital uniforms. Behind them, the young man could see police uniforms.
Confused, Dandy took a step back. "Who are you?" he asked. Then, remembering his anger, he demanded: "What are you doing in my house? Where's my mother?"
No one answered him. The men in white grabbed him. He put up a fight, but they were strong and he was outnumbered—and naked when the towels fell off during the struggle. They used unsporting methods to take him down, kneeing him in the unprotected groin in order to drop him to the floor.
"Dandy, I'm sorry!"
He heard his mother's cry but couldn't see her through the surge of legs and hands around him. In a blur, he was being hauled toward the front door.
"Mother?" he called. He was panicked but then he realized she must have been the one to call the people who were abducting him. His anger returned full-force. "Mother!"
"Oh, Dandy, you're sick!" she said piteously as she followed them as far as the front door. "They're going to help you. They're going to help you so you don't end up like Daddy."
"Mother!" he hollered, outraged and betrayed. Tears of rage and betrayal blurred his vision. "I hate you!" He struggled against the hands that held him but they were like iron. "I hate you! I HATE YOU!"
Those final words hung in the air after the men in white took him out of the house. Then the only sound was that of Gloria quietly crying.
...
-= AMERiCAN HoRRoR SToRY =-
...
During the ride to Briarcliff, Dandy was kept in a strait jacket and buckled to a gurney, regardless of how much he demanded and threatened. At the hospital he was taken inside and stripped, then thrust into the open-front shower in the hydrotherapy room by more big men in white clothes. He was thoroughly enraged, but no matter how he tried, he couldn't land a punch or squirm free. Their hands and wide, wall-like torsos were everywhere.
Then they turned on the hose.
The blast of water was on par with a fire hydrant, and just as cold. The water rushed out so fast, it stung his skin. Dandy had to cover his groin with his hands to keep the forceful spray from doing serious damage to his delicate bits. A couple of times he tried to shout an objection, but every time he opened his mouth, he got sprayed in the face. So he scrunched his eyes shut and waited for the ordeal to end. At one point, someone forcibly turned him around so they could spray his back. Then, abruptly the torture was over.
To his surprise they didn't dry him off or even offer him a towel. Two of the big men grabbed him and dragged him, kicking and screaming, to a dingy white, padded seclusion room where they dumped him and locked him in. Naked and cold. Beside himself with indignant anger.
He raged for a while, pacing and kicking the air; yelling as loudly as he could. He pounded on the filthy, padded walls till his arms tired. Then he tried banging his head on the floor. It was an exercise in futility: The thick padding insured he couldn't harm himself or the room.
Eventually his anger was overcome by exhaustion and he sprawled out on the floor, on his back. He lay there hating his mother for a long time before he noticed the cold. Eventually he rolled to his side and curled up to preserve what little warmth he had left. After a while, he fell asleep.
..
Dandy was kept in seclusion for three days. Several times throughout the first day, orderlies in drab scrubs restrained him so they could force foul-tasting liquids down his throat. By the fourth time he stopped resisting and the next morning they started giving him his medication in little cups he could manage himself, just like everyone else.
The dark-haired young man was chemically rendered docile for the time being but he wasn't stupid. He knew what they were doing to him and once he'd calmed down enough to muddle things through, he knew what he had to do.
By the third day he was a model patient. He was mild-mannered and polite. He did as he was told. The next morning, they transferred him from the seclusion room to a regular room in the men's ward and gave him some drab clothes to wear. Due to overcrowding, he was put in Tate's cell, though he wasn't told as much. Tate's absence meant his room was empty and useable so Briarcliff put it to use.
Dandy found the accommodations appalling, though a admittedly a step up from the padded cell. He discovered Tate's meager things in the room's only cabinet and quickly realized they weren't meant for him. Clothes, half a pack of cigarettes, a hideous sweater... Nothing he wanted either.
The cell was boring but the medication that dulled his brain made it bearable. He could ignore it best by sleeping and he did plenty of that. When the next medication time rolled around, he palmed the pills and pretended to take them, smiling pleasantly at the orderly who gave them to him. Once the man in white was gone, Dandy hid the pills in the pile of clothes in the cabinet. He was terribly proud of his cleverness and, in a few hours, he started to feel more like himself again.
By the time his cell door opened next, Dandy was completely in control of himself—as in control as he'd ever been. Curiously, it was a nun who entered the small room.
"I see we're awake," said Sister Jude.
"Yes. We are," said Dandy, more than happy to join in using the royal 'we'. "And we're bored." He folded his hands and sat up straighter. "Are you here to release me?"
The nun eyed the young man. He was strong, with wavy black hair and a chiseled face. A boy confidently straddling the ropes of manhood, eager to hop to the other side. She imagined his skin would still be baby-soft over the raw masculine power that rippled in those firm muscles...
She cleared her throat and forced herself to focus. Damned impure thoughts. "Well, now. That depends on you."
He put his hands on his knees and lifted his chin. "How so?"
"Being out of your room here at Briarcliff is a privilege. Everything is a privilege. You earn privileges with good behavior."
Dandy listened intently and smiled broadly at that last. "Well, I'm the best-behaved fellow around," he said. "Just ask my mother."
Jude considered pointing out that it was his mother who turned him in but decided against it. "You seem like a nice boy," she allowed. Then her tone turned steely. "Except that you killed someone."
His expression cratered in to a frown. "That was an isolated incident. Self defense."
She reached out and touched his hair. He looked at her funny but didn't stop her when she smoothed a dark curl back from his forehead.
"I'd like to believe you," she said.
Dandy was a smart boy and he could see opportunity there, though he wasn't entirely sure what it was. He was fairly confident this woman could get him out of solitary confinement. So he smiled the pretty smile his mother loved him to make for pictures and parties.
"I know what I did may seem egregious," he said sincerely, brows high. "But he tried to touch me! I'm no homosexual, Sister. I know the Bible says 'Thou Shall Not Kill', but it also forbids homosexuality and he wanted to... to have..." He lowered his voice to a hiss of a whisper. "Sex!" He shook his head and straightened up all proper again. "I'm afraid I lost control of myself in that moment but I'm really not a dangerous person. I'm an artist! A thespian! I'm no dangerous criminal."
Jude wasn't kidding when she'd said she wanted to believe him; she very much did. And with a well-presented tale like that, she could. "A thespian?" Her fingertips grazed her collarbone but the rough feel of her nun's attire reminded her this wasn't Hollywood and her silver screen dream was long dead. "I love the stage."
"Do you?" The boy beamed, delighted. "I love a good performance of any kind. Theater, ballet... I'm not fond of opera but even that can be delightful if you know what to see. And with whom."
She smiled and found herself wishing there was less of an age gap between them. If they'd crossed paths a decade or two earlier, her life might have been completely different. "Well, unfortunately those days are behind you, for now."
"There isn't a theater program here?" Dandy asked incredulously, barely holding disappointment at bay. "I heard there was art. And music. Why not stage performance? "
The nun smiled dryly. "A performance would require more self-control than most of our 'guests' at Briarcliff have."
"So have a variety show!" suggested the young man. "An exhibition of talents and skills. No one would have to do anything they weren't able to."
Sister Jude peered at him curiously. As odd as the idea was, she liked it. True, there were a lot of patients at the asylum who would never be able to take to the stage for a variety of reasons, but someone had to be the audience. And, for all their flaws and short-comings, she knew there were some talented people under her roof. The idea of making them get up on stage and strut their stuff appealed to her more, the longer she thought about it.
"What a wonderful idea, Dandy," she cooed.
He beamed. "Can we do it then?"
"I'll need to ask Reverend Monsignor Howard," said Sister Jude.
"Brilliant!" Dandy beamed.
The nun nodded but with far less enthusiasm. She knew bureaucracy. This idea wasn't going to blossom overnight into reality. "I'm going to send your doctor in, when he has time. If he says you're all right to have open ward privileges, you can go to the Day Room."
...
Author's Note:
Welcome back-to you and to me.
It's been almost 4 years since I started this AU season of AHS. I had to put the project on hold after both of my parents passed away, within 2 years of each other. It was just too much real darkness to manage; there was no room for the fictional kind. So I threw what I'd already written out here, unedited, and had to take a break.
Now I've healed enough that my old interests are rekindling and I'm finally ready to finish this long-paused story. I've already finished editing the previous episodes of this season, so PLEASE go back and re-read them if you haven't done so within the month of June, 2018. Despite what FanFic's dates say, they have been updated.
Once I've edited the next chapter of this episode, I'll be ready to get this ball rolling in earnest. Thanks for tuning in. I hope you'll find the rest worth the wait.