Cover image belongs to tumblr user norhuu.
Sinister Haven
Chapter One
How long had it been? Today was the anniversary…
The anniversary… of April 13- the day everyone was administrated to this exact place, immediately separated and marked highly psychotic and dangerous.
His friends… He only saw them, well… at least once a month… It definitely got lonely, there was no denying that. The Doctor insisted it was for the best, though; that they all remained separated in order to let their minds heal. They were convinced that seeing each more often would continue to put the reasons they were all put in there in the first place, back in their heads- intensify it, really.
To John Egbert, it never made any sort of sense.
What had been explained to The Doctor, what that John had put of these ideas into his friend's heads, especially Jade's, who had taken it the most seriously. She'd believed him from the very start, taking everything he had to say in consideration. Even rose and Dave didn't believe him at first! It had taken the help of Jade in order for them to actually listen to the things he had to say.
John looked around his room carefully; it was spick and span, or new. The building he'd lived in for the past three years was quite an old one- dating back to the 18th century. The size was quite large, actually, but just an average size that a bedroom probably would be. Instead of being white, the walls were painted a dingy, peeling grey that had most likely started out being a fresh, clean white. The small, repetitive, and square windows lined around two main walls- the constant rain and cold weather, along with the influence of its age, made them foggy, and since his arms were usually bound to him by a strait jacket or to the bed so he could not escape, John never got to look out them. What was there to see, anyway? The grounds were probably flooded with rain water, anyhow. It was probably more depressing than the inside, actually.
John stood beside the only other piece of furniture he had in his room, a bedside table. He looked down at his bed and seemed slightly confused when he saw small splatters of blood here and there… Must have happened in his sleep- another terrifying dream he'd never remember. John would have a panic attack, and in his subconscious desperation to wake up, he'd try ripping at anything his could, even if his arms were bound. He'd once broken his own leg from kicking so much; even that hadn't woken him up, though.
All John knew about these dreams were that they were hellishly terrifying, even if he remembered no specific detail about any of them. Thankfully, they didn't happen every night. Otherwise, he might have killed himself in his sleep.
Suddenly, the locks from the outside of his door, once by one, made clicking sounds; and in one swift movement, the door was swung open revealing a stalky, male guard, dressed in white from head to two, who scowled at him with suspicion. "The Doctor wishes to speak with you," He said firmly, jaw clenched and on hand tight on the door and the other holding his gun for his own 'protection'.
John nodded slowly, waiting for the two guards standing outside the door behind the man to grab him and lead him out, and when they did, they grabbed him just enough off the ground to where if he attempted to escape and run, his feet would be off the ground. He attempted this one time and one time alone- he learned his lesson.
The first man, the stalky-build one, led the way, walking with one hand behind his back and the other gripping his gun, never leaving. He walked with confidence and pride, no doubt, and it disgusted John. How this man could watch so many people suffer day in and day out in the place for so long. John had been in this place longer than he had, and, at first, when this man had learned of him and his reasons for being there, he was terrified of him… at first. Well, maybe 'terrified' wasn't a good use of words- remotely intimidated was possibly better…
The halls were cleaner than the rooms; the paint was fresher than the room's paint. The tiled floor was a light grey and some were white. The only color in this entire building was the lobby, which he hadn't seen in, today, four years. He remembered it being painted warm, comforting colors to distract from the hellish place behind the maple door that led into here.
Suddenly, they turned to the right and entered a room, where they swiftly sat John into a white chair at a white table in a white room that looked similar to his room, only this room was used for interrogation and questioning to the patients. John looked at the man sitting across from him, a man all too familiar.
The Doctor.
"Hello, Mr. Egbert." He said slowly, smiling a tight smile. He was a man in his late forties, from what John could tell by his facial features; he had ghost white skin, the definition of white hair, and light blue eyes- so light, like the clearest, cleanest, and purest water possibly imaginable. "How have you been doing since the last time I talked to you?"
"Okay, I guess," John said simply, staring the man down, face blank, similar to his friend's Dave's poker face that he had carried before all this happened.
"… Have you changed your state of mind, John…?" The Doctor asked firmly, but rather gently, knowing that from John being in here so long, it has made him emotionally sensitive to the slightest things if taken the wrong way.
John was silent moment as he looked down at the white table; if his arms hadn't been bound by the jacket, he would have fiddled his fingers awkwardly. "Why must you ask me that question…?"
"I just want to get through to you, John," He said gently, clenching his hand in a fist. "It's not real, John. Sburb, the trolls, everything. It's never been real…"
John's jaw clenched in irritation.
"Think of it this way, Mr. Egbert…" The Doctor paused, "You, solely, are responsible for you and your friends being here. If it wasn't for you, John… you, your sister, Jade, Rose, and Dave would be living a normal life with your families, falling in love… But look at you, John… You're partially insane! You made your own sister lose her mind, because of a simple dream you had! Of ridiculous ideas that you couldn't keep to yourself- which you took seriously."
John bit his lip, letting the blood fill his mouth and drip from the corners of his mouth.
"It's your fault, but it's also their fault for believing you…"
And then he snapped.