Chapter three
"So this is Bobby, he's my buddy." Lane walked me down the cafeteria in a comedic manner; me, the strong and well-build giant, frightened like a toddler taking its first steps or a flower, blooming after a long, cold and distant winter. The little Lolita I had befriended hugged the man she was introducing me to, a male no more than 25 with an average body complexion, thick brown hair and small eyes with a chestnut color and mobile shape.
"He-llo, J-John…" he addressed me with much difficulty, emphasizing on every letter he spoke, as if it were a block of stone painfully ripping through his lungs "It's n-nice to meet…you…"
"Hey there Bobby." I replied in an unsure manner, carefully shaking his hand with my own, feeling un-worthy even at such a distant to be near this kind soul.
"Oh, and this is Jillian, she's the institute's beauty." A lovely vision with long straight blonde hair and amazing green eyes, the color of freshly bloomed grass walked over to our table, accompanied by two other males. She was fairly tanned, with thin, blood-colored lips and a fragile, yet complementing body. Every movement of her being was with such a grace, a rarely found style of a princess you only get to read about in the sweetest of fairytales. Jillian took a seat beside Bobby and playfully punched Lane's shoulder:
"Not true, I'm just like everyone else!"
"Nice to meet you, Jill." I nodded my head and she handed me her hand, which I kissed softly with my rough, dry lips.
"What a gentleman!" Jillian giggled, adjusting herself in her seat "Come on, have a seat, you don't need to be scared. We don't bite, well, except maybe for this guy." She tilted her head at one of the two newcomers, a twenty year old boy with four colors in his hair-black, blue, white and red, wearing thick black glasses. Lane hurried to present him to me as well:
"That's George, if you notice him checking you out, just know that he's gay."
"Oh shut up, Lae." George defended himself with a sly mock, before throwing his hair back and taking out a box of cigarettes and yellow lighter "Who here wants some?"
"Oh, over here!" Jillian and Lane both took the offered sweet poison, while the last guy at our table took it as a chance to speak up:
"Hey there, my friend, I'm Steven." He had short blond hair and deep grey eyes, an appealing smile that made you feel like you've known him for years.
"Don't mind Steve, he's a real jerk." Lane warned me, breathing the unhealthy smoke deep into her lungs. I sat down next to her and snatched the cancer winning pleasure from her stiffed lips, then smashed it with the tip of my shoe on the cold cemented floor:
"These aren't healthy, you know. You're much too young to be smoking."
"What IS healthy in this God forsaken place, John-joy?" George noted with clear amusement, while Lane just shrugged her shoulders and laughed:
"You're right! They drug us, hardly ever let us go out, spy on us with cameras…but if John says so, I can live without one smoke, at least for today."
"It's nice that you finally came out, John. The third-floor's group could use new acquaintances." Jillian turned to me, blowing a few steam circles out of the corner of her mouth.
"Joh-n is su-ch an n-nice….guy…." Bobby said, while Lane pinched his cheek:
"I know, I fell in love with him the minute I saw him." This seemed well-received by our small table, as cheering was heard from Steven and George.
"Thank God, Lane's finally getting along with a neighbor. The last few couldn't stand her, so they were moved to the fourth floor." Steven explained to me, while Jillian hushed him:
"Stop spoiling the moment, Steve."
Ten minutes later they served us lunch, a simple meal in both appeal and taste; with just one handful I could feel my stomach turn into several knots. We couldn't even make out if it was soup or some sort of rushed made delicacy, however, while most of us were doing our best with what we had, Jillian's manners were unfamiliarly odd. She'd cut her bred into extremely small pieces and sip her meal on loud, hard gulps, as if it wasn't food that was going down her throat, but a deadly, painful poison. I took a small glance around; a lot of people were eying me, some with spacey, meaningless glances like walking undead, others with shock and surprise; but most intriguing were the looks the nurses gave our table's beauty while she fed herself. After lunch, Lane took it on herself to give me the grand tour of the institution, something to which I was hesitant to agree on. I asked her about the weird events at lunch and she made everything clear:
"Jillian is anorexic, she has a fear of food. She's been in here for months and no one can get her to eat, that's why she's always supervised by a medic. Sometimes she has nervous breakdowns after a few bites."
"That's terrible…" I mumbled with the type of compassion you can only feel when you have a weakness yourself, a trembling of your own being "What about George and Steven?"
"George is alright, his parents sent him here, thinking that his homosexuality can be treated like a disease." My companion noted with appalling "As for Steven, he's a little slow…he can't read or write, his wife made him enter this home shortly after giving birth to his baby. I think she was trying to get rid of him."
"So how do things work around here?" was my next question
"The first floor is the children's wing, where kids with birth mental defects are forced to live. The second one is for temporary visitors, the ones that only need a few weeks of medicine, but can't afford it, so they have to stay here and be treated on the hospital's expense. The third floor is for people like us, people with problems and the forth…well it's for the really heavy cases, like for people who have lost all touch with reality. I advise you not to go there." The girl told me, while nodding her head at the direction of a nearby window "We go out for a breather every few weeks or so, in the garden, which is surrounded by a steel fence, and every step we make is monitored by the security. Our floor has group therapy today at five and Doctor Brooke told me she'll send me up a floor if I don't bring you along."
"Too bad, I'm gonna miss having my privacy invaded." I replied, while she just shook her head:
"Come on, Johnny-boy, it can be fun."
She probably didn't know the definition of the word "fun".
Fun is being surrounded by your loved ones at a huge celebration party, feeling the luckiest man in the world in the arms of your beloved, the warmth of feeling love cover you like a warm blanket on a chilly snowy day….by the fireplace…watching those flames dance in a exotic tease of a motion, feeling the strength you could do everything in this world, even touch the sky.
But now, having it all taken roughly away, I had to wonder, would I ever have fun again?
I decided I had no other choice than to accompany her in the group therapy session. She acknowledged my acceptance with a childish delight, unfitted for her outside appearance; but from what I could tell, you can never judge a person by their looks. The most beautiful flower could just as well be poison ivy; the roughest weed might be a life-saving herb with the sweetest scent, bringing daylight into your average being.
It was the first time I had ever attended therapy, so I wasn't sure what to expect. On the first floor, in a corner room aside from the children's wing, was a spacey premise where Doctor Brooke tended to me and some of my new acquaintances-Lane, Steven and Bobby.
"It's so nice to see you, John." Mrs. Brooke concentrated her gaze upon me, standing in the center of a human circle "You and Lane can stand over here." She gestured towards Bobby with her heavy hand and I took my place besides the boy, giving him a small wink as a greeting.
"Now, everyone, today we're doing a simple exercise. I'm giving you all a pack of little pictures which you have to sort out in groups on account what they have in common. It's easy and fun." The therapist claimed and Lane nudged my shoulder:
"Told ya."
"What exactly is the purpose of this?" I turned to my doctor, looking down at the childishly simple drawings, while the rest of my team began the exercise without so much as a second thought
"It's a test that shows your state of mind, John, with your abilities you'll be done in a minute." The therapist assured me softly and nodded at my pile "Please begin."
I spread the pictures on the floor beside me, touching each and everyone with the tips of my fingers, taking my time to soak up the images in my mind. Lane leaned next to me and whispered in my ear:
"Don't put a male with a female, or they'll think you're a sexual maniac."
I threw her a mocking smile and did just the opposite of what she told me, but as I held the female painting, something clicked inside my mind.
A face, a beautiful sun-caressed face with the wind in its golden locks and those two loving eyes, watching me, draining me, drinking me down to my numb core…
Flash
Another picture, this time of a lighter, I placed on top of the female….
Flash
Now the face had twisted and disfigured like a peace of plasticine, resembling a monster hidden behind a veil of vanity, with great white fangs, laughing at me…
Flash
There was laughter….
Flash
That face couldn't have been mine…
"No…" I felt sweat form on my forehead, as I dropped my assignment with trembling, moist hands
Flash
That pain, that un-human pain, much like the kiss of a razor taunting my features, caressing me, making me bleed inside….my yell that now seemed so distant….
That wasn't me….
That can't be me….
Who am I and who is this?
Flash
The fire inside of me grew stronger, suffocating me with its poison bitter taste, like a strong whip splashing inside my lungs, punishing me….
"John! John!"
My whole body trembled with sweat and in a daze, an unfocused state of mind I roared a wounded animal's cry, pushing everything and everyone out of sight, then running towards the window.
"This is not me!" I yelled, tracing my fingernails around my swollen red cheek "Get this away from me!" with my own bare fist I smashed the window glass and grasped with a bleeding palm the bars behind it, shaking them roughly, just wishing to run away, to hide from the pain, from that face….
Then I felt two figures grasping me tightly and pulling my pathetic bleeding form up, then strapping it on a wheel chair, while injecting something in my fast pulsing blue vein, on which I counted down every moment, every second of feeling so alive, before it all disappeared in a mist…a serene, comforting mist, like a loving mother's tender embrace it surrounded my soul with soft caresses, as I was being carried away with, the joyful state I was in then made me feel like I was flying high, like the white dove…
"Don't take him in there, don't hurt him!" voices clashed throughout my emptied head, while I drifted farther and farther into what seemed to be a dream of a wakened man.
"He needs our help, this has gone out of control…"
" John…."
The last thing I could make out was that terrified, trembling call of my name, to which I wanted to respond, for a second "Don't take me away from her…"
Before I knew it, I was strapped down on a metallic chair and something heavy and fowl-smelling was placed on top of my head. I felt confused, drifted away, like a piece of left-behind belonging, like a fading, yellowing old picture touching the floor for the first time….
"Now!"
…before getting stepped on, over and over again.
What followed was an experience I can wish to no one, not even to my greatest enemy. It first started out as a small tickle on my head and hands, but as time passed, the pressure became stronger…the electricity swept from the deepest corners of my mind then spread out like a bad plague throughout my entire body. With every pull of that trigger, I shook and twirled, with both pain and shock, I jumped in my seat at every direction, screeching pitiful moans of helplessness. One, two, three, four…I felt my heart stop and lost all touch of reality.
When I came through, I was lying strapped on to my bed, ironically just like when all was taken from me, needled in a life-support system.
"Hey John-joy, how's my boy?" my whole body screamed with pain, the mere breaths I took felt like heavy volcano brimstone, griddling down my tonsils. I couldn't move, my limbs were numb and felt like they were made out of rubber, the kind that created children's toys with. To think that such a pleasurable item could be used to describe this ugly sensation. With much force, I opened my eyes to meet Lane's yellow small face and those two wonderful eyes, which now shone with determination and love at the same time.
"What did they do to me?..."I half-whispered with a sore throat, adjusting my glare towards hers.
"You've been diagnosed as a schizophrenic and they treat that with electric shocks." Lane caressed my forehead with warmth beyond her freezing hands; she caressed me with her strong, fiery soul.
"This place is a madhouse…"I managed to mumble with much force "Did they ever do that to you?"
"No, but they did to Jillian just after they were finished with you. I got so worried; I couldn't even see how she was."
"How can they…she's just a kid…"
"Her parents don't care about her, they just want her out of their hair for good." Lane explained, lightly lifting my hand and placing it in hers, hesitantly, feeling unsure just like a baby bird before its first ever flight out of the comfortable nest; the sensation of starting something new filled the darkening room. I squeezed her hand in mine, then spoke weakly:
"You should be visiting Jillian. Why are you here with me?"
"I don't know." The sweet Lolita answered "Do you want me to leave you alone so you can rest up?"
"No…" to my own surprise, there it came "No, you can hang out for a little more if you want to…"
Lane lay on my bed beside me, resting her head on my shoulder and turning to the ceiling; I somehow managed to wrap my arm around her small weak shivering body and shushed her quietly.
In the end, when night came down on us, we were wrapped in each other's arms, glaring up with small hope and in fear, like baby rabbits hiding in a comfortable small hole, awaiting to be discovered by the rootless wild fox and put to sleep forever blessing their little souls.
"Don't worry, John, we'll think of something…"
But I was one step ahead of her; the plan was already forming in my dazed, but still active mind.
A/N: They really do treat schizophrenia and anorexia with electric shocks. I have a friend with such problems, so I know how most things in a mental hospital work. Lucky for her, when her parents found out about this, they took her back home.
A/N 2:Thanks for all the support,you guys!
