This one has been floating around in my head for a while now, so I thought I'd let it bubble up to the top and see what happens. I'm not sure if I'll make this a full story, or if I'll just have fun with it, as it is my first crack at a suspense genre. Taking a bit of inspiration from a horror story podcast I listen to occasionally. Reviews will dictate whether or not I keep this going, so do let me know what you think!
Warning: this story-line may disturb some people, but the people and places are completely fictional.
The Williams household, 1986
"Dad, you can't do this, please!" She sobs as the men in white haul her out of the living room, arms pinned between their massive bodies. Her father stands, white as a sheet and painful guilt lining every one of the lines on his face as he watches with glassy eyes as his beautiful and broken daughter is dragged away. Karen lays a supportive hand on his arm and they both watch silently as they let the young girl be taken away, for her own good, of course.
Why did you tell them? The nightmares weren't that bad, you should have never told them, Sarah sobs to herself as her world falls apart around her, fear overcoming her as she realizes what they've committed her to, and where. They'd tried to get her to go willingly, much to Karen's pressing, but apparently they gave up on waiting for her to make a decision on the matter. They were afraid of her, of her behavior, of her stories. She should have never said a word, kept her demons to herself. There's a sharp pain in her arm and within seconds her body is relaxing and her mind is quieting, yet the panic in her chest is still there, still painful, still crying for help. Why, why, why…
St. Agnes's Juvenile Psychiatric Treatment Hospital - Privately Owned, 1987
"I assure you, Mr. Williams, we are doing the very best we can with her, but she seems to be taking a turn for the worse once again. She hasn't slept in over a week, and she is responding violently to the staff and patients who have intermingled with her as of late. I know we discussed a release this March, but I feel it best that she continue her stay here."
Dr. Jones adjusts his thick glasses as he taps his fingers restlessly on the desk before him. The man on the other line dissipates into despair and guilt over his poor daughter gone mad. Dr. Jones smiles as the man consents to let her stay another six months, just one of many extensions the man will agree to, under Dr. Jones' recommendation. How he enjoys little Sarah, the defiance she has, the way she struggles to remain lucid amidst all the drugs and treatments he has her on. Her father was a poor sap with the financial means to cover whatever the Doctor recommended, and oh, how easily the man caved to the idea of 'fixing' his little princess. Sarah was so wonderfully bright, a ray of sunshine in this sterile place, and so young and angtsy that she made for very good entertainment during their weekly therapy sessions together, while daddy kept the Doctors wallet lined nicely. Why, if she wasn't mad a year ago when she arrived, he was surely going to enjoy getting her there.
"Trust me, Mr. Williams. I do believe we can help your daughter and relieve her of these hallucinations, get her back to a normal life even. The medical world is making strides in the world of the mentally ill. With your permission, I would like to recommend short-term isolation and an increase in her usual medication dosage. Once we get her to rest a bit, I would like to begin the ETC treatment I suggested a few months ago." The man argues, but only briefly. Dr. Jones always succeeds in convincing Mr. Williams of what his little girl needs.
It's not long before the morning has passed and the pretty young girl is sitting across from him once more, her face gaunt with exhaustion, lips permanently scowling these days.
"Sarah," he says her name to get her to look up at him finally, her eyes glued on the table before her. His tone is pleasant enough this morning, and she looks up, bright jade glimmering with a mixture of despair, hate and even still that slither of defiant rage that makes his blood boil. He still needed to break her a bit more, but she was a tough nut to crack, even for him.
"Your father has approved you for another six months under my care." He let's that news settle in, her eyes flicker with something he assumes is utter devastation. "He has also permitted us to move forward with your electro-shock treatments. I think we will see substantial improvements in you after a few weeks of this. Perhaps you'll even stop having these dreams you speak of."
Her eyes flood with fear and he soaks up every second of the mental and emotional collapse she is experiencing right now.
"I'm not crazy, they're just dreams, they're not real, I know this," she whispers desperately.
She's tried relentlessly to forsake any idea that she ever believed in goblins or Labyrinths or evil Kings. She pleads to deaf ears, though. He knew she wasn't crazy after a few weeks with her. But what kind of fool would he have been to give up such a treat amidst this facility, and he was going to enjoy that vacation in the tropics this summer, which he could now afford, thanks to this little gem.
"Now, Sarah. Do you really expect me to believe you're all better so soon? After you attacked your poor bed nurse just last night?" Her eyes light with confusion, her lips parting to deny the accusation. He enjoys how helpless he makes her, how confused and unsure of herself he can make her, because just like before, there was always a nurse willing to take a small bribe under the table for a false statement. "Don't deny what we already know to be true, Sarah," he chastises her with a twitch of his lips. "I'm afraid we're going to have to commit you to solitary confinement once more for this aggressive behavior. What do you think? Perhaps three days this time?" He smiles brightly, his enjoyment all to disturbing for her young mind to understand.
The girl crumbles, devastated once more as he allows her to be dragged away to the hole he loves to lock her in. She is exceptionally complacent after a few days to herself. He looks forward to their next session.
Sarah's POV, 1989
"Good morning, Sarah."
The good doctor gives her a clinically cool smile as he sits across from her.
"Morning, doc," she says a bit dead toned, but smiling all the same. Dr. Jones doesn't like it when she ignores his pleasantries, and she's learned to play his games through their years together.
"How are you feeling today?" He sets his black coffee on the desk and opens a manilla folder that looks worn and battered, thick with notes and papers. She wonders if he's ever going to switch to a new one or if he likes reminding her of how long she's been here every time they meet.
"Better than yesterday," she continues to smile, her deadened green eyes level with his dull brown ones.
He looks stressed. She's learned his habits during their time together, and his brows are drawn in just a bit, his lips pressed thin between his sentences and hair a bit more tousled than usual. He's attractive, physically. He's slime and decay on the inside. But aesthetically speaking, he works out, he keeps his black hair well groomed, his jawline is tight and he smiles like a man who knows he's got the looks. He's not even as old as her father, maybe late thirties at most, and for some reason that was shocking when she met him. Not at all the least troubling fact she would come to learn though. He's wearing his red button up beneath his labcoat today. He always wears it when he plans on giving her good news. Well, good news for him at least.
"Always good to hear. Are you sleeping? Has your new dosage been helping with the insomnia?"
"Yes, doctor. Been sleeping like a baby," she coos softly, running a strand of hair through her fingers slowly as she watches him write his notes.
He gives her an admonishing look over his spectacles, but she sees his eyes dip slightly to watch her hands play with her hair. He always watches. Maybe he thinks she doesn't notice through the haze of medication. She'd say she was fortunate to get a watcher instead of a doer, but it was skeevy all the same and while he had proven to be perverse in his practice over his patients, it had never dipped that far. Some of her other inmates hadn't been so lucky.
"Do you know what tomorrow is, Sarah?" he asks, folding his hands on the desk in front of him.
"What's that, Doctor Jones?"
He flashes her a smile, he loves when she uses his name. She wants to throw up every time she has to butter him up to get answers.
"It's your birthday, Sarah. You're turning eighteen."
She gives him a light chuckle. "Am I going to get a party? Are you going to bring me a gift, Doctor?"
He shifts uncomfortably. The man abhors a woman with a sharp tongue. Misogynistic to his core.
"Actually, this means that your time here is ending. You'll no longer be a juvenile, after all." He seems annoyed by this fact.
"Lucky, lucky me," she sighs prettily, an air of mockery to tinge her words. He clears his throat in irritation.
"Well, from our end, we believe you have made wonderful progress, Sarah. No longer speaking of Labyrinths and goblins, and you're sleeping again which is wonderful. You really took a turn for the better. With continued therapy and medication you may go on to live a very fulfilling life."
"Ah, doc, you know how bad I want that," she grins, this time there's a cynical twist to the curl of her lips.
He clears his throat and shifts, crossing his arms stiffly. There's nothing more he can do or say to her now though, and they both knew it. She'd been counting down every day, every hour. She had a timer here and they both knew it had run out at last. Even if he wanted to keep her longer, which he had been sure to do in the past, she was no longer young enough to bar from the outside world in this place. She'd just get hauled to another facility for adults, and he'd never see her again regardless. Her track record was clean for the most part. His only hope to keep her on his leash was to release her and stay on as her psychiatrist during her probationary period at home.
"I do wish you the best, Sarah. Your mental health has always been the utmost importance to us here, especially to myself." He smiles tenderly, and she knows a sick part of him believes those words, just not for the reasons a normal doctor would. He loved watching her break, loves that way he cracked her open and left behind jagged corners and a mind so shattered even he struggles to dissect it now.
"Are you gonna miss me, doc? Did I leave an… impression?" She curls another strand of hair and doesn't look at him to see his reaction. She knows he's turning a little red with agitation. Maybe he'll electro-shock her one more time just for fun.
"Your father has been informed of your release. He'll be here to pick you up tomorrow. I'm sure he'll be happy to have his little princess back."
Sarah's body goes still, her grin never faltering as she turns back to the doctor. He's grinning like the bastard he is. His wallet was lined with her father's green bills. He'd made it pretty clear early on in their introduction that this was a sick game to him, just to keep that cash influx coming his way. As long as he kept her locked up and silent, her father would never know any better, that there was nothing wrong with her, that every act of violence had only ever been to resist the torture that Dr. Jones put her through. She hadn't had a visitor in three years and Dr. Jones had often taunted her with that fact, and she'd always wondered if he'd somehow managed to keep them away, while he kept her here to toy with.
"Try not to think about me too much when I'm gone doc. I'd hate to leave here knowing you might still be… thinking about me. While you do… whatever it is you do in your free time."
She speaks slowly as she continues to smile, and there's an insanity in her eyes that wasn't there when she came to this place. But she had jumped off that cliff of sanity long ago. Did she still believe in goblins and a King that haunted her dreams just as Dr. Jones haunted her reality? She wasn't sure. The lines between reality and dreams had become muddled and blurred. But the truth was, they had no idea just how eager she was to be on the outside of this hell hole, to unleash what years of warped therapy and clinical testing does to a young girl who just had to be shut up for believing in fairytales. She'd stopped mentioning her dreams very early on, but they had never stopped coming, not really. They were no happy magical faerytales, or dreams of adventure and mischief. No, these dreams were just as terrifying, just as dark, sometimes even more so, than her reality. The King was always angry in her dreams, a madman trying desperately to catch her, chasing her and taunting her, as if he had a reason to be furious with her. He'd frightened her at first, but now she merely laughed at his continued failed attempts. He could never catch her, never find her, no matter how hard he tried. The heavier the medication, the less she saw of him. The harder he tried to reach her, the more she enjoyed watching him fail in his quest to do so. It had become her favorite game over the years.
If he were real? Well then, she had surely made her bed with such careless toying and the dark amusement she'd gained at his expense. It was such a warped pleasure, to enjoy something that had once terrified her to the point of frightening even her own parents with her night terrors of the man. He had no face anymore, he was a blur in her mind, but she recognized his presence all the same, and his rage only grew with every encounter they had, like a black cloud in her mind that she mocked with her laughter.
The King had given the girl certain powers… she often hummed this line in her head as she'd suffered under therapy sessions that left her unconscious or vomiting, or under heavy sedation as the Doctor had watched her with hooded eyes, tempted to do more but never breaching that line. If she had any power at all, if the Goblin King did exist, they should all be very, very afraid of what she was to become once freed. Vengeance tasted so sweet, like a rich wine to soothe away her pains every night as she disappeared into dreams of retribution.
The Doctor frowns, clearly through with her attitude. "Good luck out there, kid. It's a dark world for someone with so many problems."
Rage is a ringing in her ears. It hurts and it blinds her vision, distorting what she sees and what she knows. She becomes lost in it, and she laughs. It's so pretty and alluring yet terrifying all at once, growing increasingly loud and maniacal as the sound follows the good doctor all the way into the hall as he hurries to rid himself of the noise with an angry slam of the door as he stomps away.
The car was parked out front, waiting for her as she took slow, fluid steps out of the facility, stretching out her arms above her head like a cat enjoying the sunlight. They had given her a jumpsuit to take home, since she couldn't squeeze into the same clothes her fifteen year old self had been hauled in wearing. They'd also gifted her with a pair of sunglasses, since she'd been all but barred from the outside world during her stay, aside from the occasional morning jogs at daybreak and through the very small windows in her rooms over the years. She'd lost any color she'd had long ago, her dark hair and thick eyebrows only exemplifying the ghostly complexion.
Sarah took one look at the car before her and smiled, lips drawn back in a wide-spread grin that was out of place for the scene around her. A middle aged man stepped out of the driver side door and approached her, his discomfort apparent as he inspected the girl before him. She wasn't sure what troubled him more, her happy expression and glassy eyes amidst the hospital attire, or the fact that she'd somehow managed to still fully blossom into a young woman amidst all the strenuous physical and mental trials these last three years.
"Hey, kid," he says awkwardly, extending a hand to pat her on the shoulder. Sarah's eye twitches subtly at the nickname. Dr. Jones loved to demean her with it.
"It's Sarah, Dad. Just Sarah," she replies coolly, using a very unnatural amount of energy not to pull away from his hand resting on her shoulder, though she does stare at it silently. Any physical contact made her dangerously on edge.
"Uh, yea, of course, hon- I mean, Sarah. We should, uh.. we should go home," he motions at the car and removes himself from her quickly, clearly uncomfortable with this cold being that has replaced his once happy and bright daughter.
She continues to smile, despite this. She felt nothing upon seeing him, no happiness, sadness, anger. It was as if he were a stranger to her. She was hollow, empty, a shell. She wasn't Sarah anymore. She was the product of survival, and heavy, heavy medication. But as long as she behaved, she could have her old room back, her old toys. And nothing... nothing, nothing, nothing could take away her freedom now.
As I mentioned above, reviews will determine if I keep this one going! Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed :)
