He knew he was mad. He knew the wings were hallucinations, but he no longer cared. He lived for the next dose, counting down the hours before the pills arrived. And then they would strap hijm down onto a gurney, put a bit in his mouth and electrocute him until he lost consciousness. Three years of hospitalization had only made him worse. After Christmas he would be moved again.
His mother and father stood outside his door, looking at him through three inches of bulletproof glass, like some rare specimen at a zoo.
He hunched over rocking on his bed. Today was visiting day, an hour of his parents watching every move he made and then a trip to Doctor Ralluns office where he would sit in silence while the "Good" doctor would poke and prod him, and then ask him some questions.
Minutes passed slowly, but half an hour early his door opened and two men in white scrubs stepped in.
One he saw had black orbs for eyes and half his jaw was gone exposing sharp teeth in a double row, like a shark.
He screamed and backed away from the shark man, only to be caught by the normal nurse.
John reached for his parents. They stood their in horrified silence, watching their son subdued. John screamed again, his voice hoarse from making the familiar sound. "No they-re here! Mum, help me! NO!" He kicked, bucking his whole weight against restraining hands. "NO!"
He fell to his knees as the guard twisted his arm.
"Uh.. Surely you don't have to be so rough." His father said weakly.
The thing holding John grinned, the boy bucked again screaming for help.
"Where are you taking him?" His mother asked.
"Ravenscar"
Even his parents gasped at the name. Nobody ever came out of Ravenscar. It was run by the church, but at some point people had been murdered there.
John just screamed louder, dragging himself from his captors. "Dave shut the kid up."
The last thing a fourteen year old John Constantine heard was the weak protests of his father.
He awoke in a strange room. Instead of the familiar clean whiteness of the ceiling, red and gold fabric burned into his eyes.
He kept them open for as long as he could, letting the bright colors dissolve into a teary blur. He swallowed the vibrant life and closed his eyes before real tears came. He knew he was in Ravenscar that was all.
John wondered briefly if his parents would come to visit anymore. Probably not. He had a sister. Struggling to remember her name, he sat up. Chloe? Carrie? Something with a "C". He had never seen her before. She must be...what? Three? Four?
There was carpet beneath his feet. For once his feet weren't cold. But he didn't notice. Why hadn't he thought of this before? He had a sister... What did that mean? Why did he suddenly care? Bewildered he felt a pang in his stomach.
Doubling up he gasped. The pills, Why hadn't he had his pills? He reached out and grabbed something hard. He looked up, a writing desk sat near the window. He stumbled into the chair in front of it.
A little while later, the stomachache passed and he could breathe, but he had a headache. He looked blearily at the papers on the desk. They were scattered across the desk in little heaps. On the foremost pile was a small drawing of an emaciated man screaming on a withered cross.
Our savior
That sounded familiar, was he Christian? He didn't like the drawing, he placed it face down on the rough wood and looked at the second paper.
Deceased,
the first column read. Aandross, Robert. The first name read. And in
thin spidery handwriting on the column next to it was. Gunshot
wound to the head.
Next
came Aferton, Steve.
Blood loss, slit neck.
The list went on and on, detailing how thirty-six boys and one girl had died. Mostly in violent, nonsensical ways.
Houser, Christian, internal bleeding.
Bryan, Alex, shock, ripped own eyeballs out.
And release dates were in the next column, and then funeral dates were highlighted. They were released before they died?
Fifteen names were left, and the second name from the bottom was
Constantine, John
The door opened
It was a priest. John had seen them on the movies that the patients were sometimes shown. But this priest was emaciated, awkward and his eyes always seemed to be popping out of his head.
John didn't like him.
"Come with me child." he said, flicking his white scarf around his neck. White. It reminded John of where he was. Who he was. John timidly nodded at him.
"Don't be afraid. My name is Brother McCormy, we will see more of each other, but I need to take you to the initiation."
He obeyed ducking his head as he passes the strange man. All asylums had this. They would strip him, make sure he had no sharp objects, give him a short cold shower and send him mto the room he would be staying in for the next year. A year in this place? What were the letters, the numbers, the dates, the names?
He didn't know what he had found, but the names echoed around in his aching skull. Aferton, Steve. Aandross, Robert. Bryan, Alex...Constantine, John.
He came to a complete stop in the hallway, cradling his head in his hands. The priest stopped as well, and looked down at him in concern. "John?"
"I need pills." John managed to gasp out. Leaning against a wall, he was starting to see the things, there was one coming down the hall toward them.
Gasping he closed his eyes, It's not real. It's not real. It's not real.
He repeated it over and over and over again, chanting it until he felt the presence pass. A stench of rotten meat followed it down the hallway.
"I can see you don't like Brother Andrew." The priest was watching him from across the hall, something seemed to be bothering him, but he quickly shook it off. "You won't get any pills, I'm afraid. We don't allow any sort of drug in the hospital."
He moved on with John gaping after him. They couldn't do that! A year without pills. He would die. That was no understatement.
He hurried after McCormy.
