Hello, this is chapter two on its way for you! Sorry it's been a while, I've just had lots of exams. I'm trying to get across the horrors of the Asylum and the creepiness of the place. In this chapter we start to see Lawrence lose it a bit, not much though. I'm it building up; you'll just have to wait for a few more chapters.
I did some research on Asylums in that period and I am keeping to my information as well as the film. Did you know that Lambeth Asylum was a real place? I didn't.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Wolfman, trust me I would be constantly bragging about it if I did!
Lawrence woke early. It was beginning to get light and he could see his cell properly for the first time.
It was a large room, musty and with a foul smell of mould, blood and dirt. Paint that once plastered the walls had been peeled off, leaving the cold wall exposed. Heavy chains like the one Lawrence was wearing where separated throughout the room at regular intervals. The room looked like something out of a nightmare, thought Lawrence. Crimson blood stains spattered the floor and on the walls were fingers marks, straining to be in the outside world again.
A small window was the only source of light in the room. It was placed to high up for Lawrence to reach had had bars across, severing the light into fragments.
All seemed quiet and still. A faint dripping came from somewhere nearby.
Then, quite suddenly, a dreadful noise pierced Lawrence's ears. It was someone in the room next door, scrapping their nails down the thin wall which divided the rooms. The horrific noise made Lawrence's hair stand on end.
It persisted. The scrapping, clawing sound as the nails dragged across the wall.
Lawrence put his hands over his ears to stop the noise.
"Stop..." he croaked miserably.
The noise continued. It grew, faster and faster and thumping against the wall.
"Stop it!" Lawrence moaned, rocking to and fro.
The noise ceased and Lawrence took his hands from his ears.
He put his head to the door to listen in. Why had it suddenly stopped?
A high pitched giggle came from the room.
Lawrence's stomach turned to ice.
It sounded like a young woman, possibly in her early twenties.
"Hello?" He called uncertainty, through the wall.
The woman laughed again, a long shriek of laughter burst forth, sounding, not happy, but sinister.
"Can you hear me?" Lawrence asked.
Suddenly, a voice came from the other side of the wall, loud and clear as if the person speaking was next to him. Yet it wasn't a speech, it was a song.
"Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg and owlet's wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble."
There then came a dreadful cackle, Lawrence sprang away from the wall onto the floor; desperate to get away from the terrifying woman.
The Witches, Macbeth, he noted, Act one, scene four. He knew this as he himself was Macbeth and was in this very scene. He found it strange that the person next door seemed to know all the words like him...
Lawrence remembered that part of Macbeth well, and wished more than ever that he was back in his theatre company now, where he was Hamlet, famously murdering his uncle for his father's revenge. How he hoped he could one day do the same for his father.
The woman continued to chant scratching the walls again. The noise penetrating his very heart, making his skin crawl like chalk down a black bored.
"Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Witches' mummy, maw and gulf
Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark,
Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark,"
He tried to ignore the renewed chanting, blocking it with his hands clasped over his ears. The noise, however, was just as clear, filling his head with the monotone song.
Lawrence was never aware that the woman he heard had never spoken, that all she did was tap and scratch. There was never a voice.
There was no Shakespeare being recited, it was all it was all in his head.
"By the pricking of my thumbs"
Lawrence thought he heard, clearly through his hands.
"Something wicked this way comes."
Suddenly, the grinding of the bolt on the door brought him to his senses. He looked up from the floor where he sat, cradling his knees to him. The woman had stopped yet the tapping and scratching continued as it is had never stopped.
The bolt shifted suddenly and the heavy door opened suddenly.
Lawrence scrambled to sit on the bed and watched as the door opened fully.
There stood a man with a large ginger handlebar moustache. He had little or possibly no hair on his head. He stepped into the room, Lawrence watched cautiously. The man looked down at the bed. The way he looked at Lawrence unnerved him, like he was something foul he had found on his shoe. He was carrying a gray bowl in his left hand.
"You." He ordered. Lawrence didn't move.
"I want you to sit and stay where you are." He said slowly. "If you move, then I will bring others to restrain you. Got it?" The man spoke very threateningly and Lawrence didn't move, not wanting to get on this guys wrong side.
The man smiled and placed the bowl on the end of his bed then left, slamming the heavy door behind him. Lawrence heard the grinding of the bolt on the other side of the door, then fading footsteps.
The Lawrence moved forward to pick up the bowl. It was full of a thick, sludgy substance. It smelt quite revolting and almost made him gag. Lawrence moved the bowl left and right, trying to decide what it was. He thought it looked like gruel, but something yellow and large was floating near the top.
Lawrence forgot how hungry he was, not having eaten since he was at Blackmoor. He suddenly realised that he had not been given anything to eat it with. No spoon, no fork, nothing.
He dipped his finger into the cold gruel and stirred it. Pinching his noise with one hand he tipped the contents of the bowl down his throat ignoring the foul taste or the lumpy morsels.
After he finished, he had the dreadful taste in his mouth. Ignoring it he lay back down on his hard bed, imagining what horrors he would have in store for him today.
That was, Lawrence concluded, the worse part of his day. Having to sit on his uncomfortable bed, chained down and restless. He had no idea about what was going to happen to him.
It was lunchtime approximately, judging by the sun in the sky, when there was a knock on the door and the shift of the bolt and it was heaved aside.
Lawrence looked up. He had been gazing gloomily down at his feet waiting for this moment to arrive. He stared avidly at the door as it was pushed open.
A man with a small beard entered, keeping his distance from Lawrence. His dark hair was gelled so thickly it gleamed in the musty light. He knelt down close to the bed, but far away if Lawrence was to lunge at him. He spoke in a calm voice directly to his face.
"Hello. My name is Doctor Pichard. I am here to help the patients find peace, and also decide on the severity of the condition of the patient."
"You're not a Doctor." Lawrence said averting his eyes away from the Doctors face. "None of you are. You're evil. I've heard the screams of your patients."
Lawrence spat the words with such conviction and anger, it surprised the doctor.
"No, no. You misunderstand me. I am here to help you, we all are. Consider this Master Talbot. You would not be in here if you didn't need my help."
"No one can help me now" Lawrence said, still not looking at the Doctor. His mind far away, back at Talbot hall.
"Ah yes." The Doctor sighed. "I heard rumours of your condition, I was unaware it troubled you this much."
Lawrence didn't say anything. There was a long pause. The Doctor spoke again, scratching his bearded chin thoughtfully.
"I wonder, as you can clearly communicate well, better than many other of the patients, I wonder if you can do me a favour. Will you have a discussion with me, purely for medical research? It would be interesting for me to get a further view on intense human delusions like yours, for example."
Lawrence turned slowly to Doctor Pichard.
"You have no idea about so called delusions." He said quietly. Staring with his sunken eyes into the Doctor's healthy ones.
"Well" Said the Doctor, cheerfully. "Please, let me take this opportunity to help you, to discover where these delusions came from. Talking to me will help you overcome this illness and return to your normal life."
The Doctor moved closer to Lawrence, eager to get what he wanted.
"Between you and me, Lawrence." He said in a lower voice, you are the only one here that I believe can recover properly. Let me talk to you and we can sort this out. You clearly have a troubled mind and I intend to rectify this. Tell me everything, I'll help you."
Whether it was the enthusiastic look in his eyes or whether it was the desperation for someone to understand what he was going through. Lawrence nodded.
A broad grin spread across the Doctors face. He stood up suddenly at turned away from Lawrence as if he was now unimportant.
"I told you he would comply." He called to the door as he marched towards it. "You should be thanking me, George. With this patients help, we may be able to finish your book on hallucinations. Now, we have a great specimen for your experiment."
He knocked twice on the door and the bolt shunted across, he pulled it open and looked back at Lawrence sitting on his bed, having not moved at all.
"I'll see you later today for our interview, Talbot" He nodded curtly then left the room muttering to himself as he departed.
"Demented freak." He said, as he departed. The door slammed and Lawrence was once again alone.
Lawrence sighed deeply. Anxiety clouded his mind. What had he just done in saying he would talk. They will surly they will think him crazy.
Lawrence lay back, pulling his shackled hands to his head and running his fingers through his once kept hair. He was already in the dog house, he thought, and it couldn't hurt to talk about it. Maybe they would understand.
Time moved much faster as the afternoon approached. Lawrence, found himself sitting on his bed, listening to the other prisoners moan again.
Finally, there came the grinding of the bolt and two burly men entered. Lawrence didn't move, there was something threatening about the way the two stood which made him cautious.
"Is this the one?" The larger of the two asked the other, speaking in a thick cockney accent.
"Yes." Grunted the second.
The first one peered at Lawrence, like he was an animal at the zoo then blinked stupidly at the other.
"But he looks so small?"
The smaller one sighed exasperatedly.
"Don't under estimate them, remember what happened to Henry, nearly bit his ear off!"
The other grunted in reply.
The two converged on Lawrence, one holding his hands down by his side, clamping them tightly down. The other undid the neck brace and fixed another one.
"Stand." Commanded the one by his neck. Lawrence obliged.
"Walk." One said, and so he did. One in front, then Lawrence and the other holding up the rear holding the chain which was fixed around Lawrence's neck. He didn't struggle.
They walked him along corridors until they found a spare room. On entering they found two chairs facing each other over a plain wooden table. There were straps fixed to one of the chairs.
One of the men shoved him roughly in the back and Lawrence took a hesitant step towards the chair. He sat on it and watched the two men bind his wrists to the chair. Laughing, they departed, leaving him alone in his chair.
The door opened and Doctor Pichard stepped inside, nodded to Lawrence and sat across from him with a pen, ink and parchment.
"Thank you for agreeing to this Lawrence, most of the other patients here are unresponsive and would never agree to talk."
Lawrence nodded politely then looked down at his wrists.
"Are these really necessary?" He asked, gesturing to the straps.
Doctor Pichard's smile faltered.
"You never know Master Talbot. We are in a mental asylum and you, yourself are a patient. Understand that certain precautions must be taken."
"Now." The Doctor said picking up his pen and dipping in into the ink pot next to him. "Please tell me everything."
Lawrence paused, not knowing where to begin. At the beginning, he thought.
He started to talk. He told the doctor about what Lycanthropy is, how when he was bitten, he turned into the beast and mutilated many villagers. He explained how he couldn't control the fact he transformed and what he did when he was under the power of the moon.
Doctor Pichard did not interrupt him but wrote continually while he spoke.
"However, you have to understand." Lawrence continued, leaning forward. "Is that my father is the same, he also has the curse, I think. Well, I don't know for sure, but see, he has this room..."
"Mr Talbot" Doctor Pichard held his hand up to silence him.
Lawrence stopped his flow.
There was a pause then Doctor Pichard laughed. A long cold laugh that cut though Lawrence's soul, piercing his insides.
"Werewolves!" He sniggered, trying to regain control. "That's a good one. I have heard many interesting ones in my time Mr Talbot but this is quite out of this world."
He continued to laugh. He got up and advanced to the door, knocking twice on its surface.
"Arthur," he called. "Come and read this."
The door opened and a tall man with a top hat entered with a monocle. He sat down in the seat the doctor had just vacated. He pushed his monocle further in and began to read what the doctor had just written.
A broad grin spread across his face.
"This is perfect. A delusion of this nature is fascinating. How did you find him?" He enquired to the Doctor, who shrugged.
"With this intriguing mental delusion we can try to break it down, finding the best method. I wonder how long it would take?" said the man with the monocle watched Lawrence glare sinisterly at him.
Lawrence felt hollow. He was so sure, they would believe him. They will, he thought defiantly. They will.
"I'm not having a delusion. You have no idea of what I have gone through. I'm not mad either!" He said, ending his sentence on a shout.
"Lawrence," sighed the Doctor. "We know what you have gone through." He glanced down at the paper "Your mother's horrific mutilation, your fathers neglect and your brother's recent death."
"It's not that." Lawrence whispered.
The tall man with the top hat, Arthur, turned to Doctor Pichard.
"Well, thank you for this. Now with your help, I think we can really test the extent of delusions. What treatment do you suggest first?"
"I'M NOT MAD!" Lawrence yelled.
Underneath the anger, something began to bubble; something not human which growled and howled. Lawrence couldn't control what happened next even if he tried.
Without warning, without meaning to, the straps that held him down, broke suddenly. Lawrence lunged forward.
He didn't know what he was doing, didn't think about what he must look like and how this didn't help his chances of escaping this place. All he wanted was to hurt the Doctor and Arthur as much as possible.
He dived over the table towards the men, who yelled in surprise and jumped aside.
"HELP!" The Doctor screeched as he tried to get to his feet. "Assistance in room eleven!"
Lawrence pounced on top of the doctor, using his still handcuffed hand to punch every inch of him he could.
The Doctor yelled but he couldn't move, he was pinned down by Lawrence, who was on top of him.
Lawrence's chained hands found the Doctor's throat...
A door banged open and Lawrence felt two strong people grab his shoulders and pull him off the Doctor on to his back. He thrashed about wildly but was held down tightly by the men to the floor.
Without warning, a searing pain in his neck made him scream. The injection was so painful, it made a tear of anguish escape, trickling from the corner of his eye.
Light seemed to be fading from his vision, everything was fuzzy and fading darkness was ascending.
No, he would fight; he wouldn't be overcome by the sedative.
He was losing the battle to stay conscious and he knew it.
"Keep him under control; he is more violent than I thought." Lawrence hears someone above him say.
Lawrence exhaled deeply then remembered nothing more as the blackness swallowed him, drowning him in its dark abyss.
Don't you hate that Doctor! I really hate him! I hope you enjoyed it. Any mistakes please drop me a note. Next chapter will be much shorter but that's because I'm thinking about putting it in someone else's point of view.
Thanks to all my comments so far, you make my writing worth it! Please be one of them and review my chapter, much appreciated.