M You must be mature to read this. M
Ten O'clock Pill
Chapter 1
The psyche ward was quiet this time of night. With the exception of the occasional muffled sobbing from a few inmates. The patients never cried much. They were the ones who were supposed to be there. The inmates, though….the sane ones who nobody would just listen to….they cried. Some cried silently, some cried on the inside, and then there were the ones who screamed.
Kate used to be a screamer, until the men in white threatened her with pills and syringes…and…sometimes…. Now almost a full year later, she was silent, she'd had plenty of time to learn the game. All she had to do was keep to herself and stay out of everyone's hair. The men in white wouldn't listen or help her. They were only there to keep order and take home a paycheck.
Kate kept herself occupied with nothing more than a pen and pad. The men in white hadn't trusted her with anything more than a crayon for almost three months in the beginning, then it was weeks before someone could find one of those plastic crayon sharpeners for fear she would take out the blades from a normal sharpener and cut herself. Now she was allowed safety scissors and a stencil sheet to accompany her box of crayons and various ball point pens.
Other than herself, there were only two other people allowed to have art and craft supplies such as pencils, pens, or any other potentially dangerous tool in their possession without a man in white standing over them, making sure they don't hurt themselves. One of these people was Tom Clancy. There was either absolutely nothing going on in this man's head or to much altogether.
Tommy was closed up. He didn't speak much and when he did he sounded like a scientist who's just figured up the perfect equation for levitation. This man could be seen staring at the backside of a television set in the rec.room, then out of the blue he exclaim "BARNICLE SHAVINGS! Yes, of course. Why didn't I see it before?" and then race to his room to emerge hours later with elaborate sketches of the most beautiful places on earth. Places he'd never even been, wars he'd never witnessed, people he'd never met. It was all in his head.
Kate had managed to establish a mode of communication with Tommy through art. She could draw pictures and use different colors to represent feelings and wonderment. It was more communication than the men in white had established with him in the sixteen years he'd lived in the ward.
The only other person allowed art supplies, was Michael Myers. Kate had never spoken to this man. He didn't speak. Only once in while Kate would look up and catch his gaze. Gaze would not be the right word. What this man did with his eyes….was….odd?
He had a thing for making masks. Kate caught a glimpse of the inside of his room one time as she was taken into her room and doped up for crying out in the beginning. The walls of the man's room were covered with masks that varied in color and style. Each mask had eye holes, so when he peered through the slits, holes or rips….words could never begin to describe…..those eyes that held….nothing. Nothing. Or better, his eyes appeared hollow, as if there used to be something there, maybe long ago in another time, another life.
To catch this man's gaze was a lot like shining a flash light in the eyes of a large animal in the dark that you didn't see before.
Michael didn't really look around much. He was silent patient.