Standards
Chapter seven: Imperfect
You never know what it's like to actually be in the asylum until you're forced in. I didn't even comprehend what I would have to go through daily until I realized I was stuck here for better or for (more likely) worse. Maybe it was the glimmer of hope I had to do myself in after I got out of here that made me realize that the paint on the walls was chipping or that the distinct foul scent of mold was infesting the building, either way I fully sense it now and I really wish I could just repress it.
Repress, block, shield. All words that I thought I would never have to use to express my mental status in my life. I'm repressing my emotions; they won't do any good here when there are people screaming for God to come and take them to heaven. I'm blocking my mind from letting me see what happened between Bryan and me; this applies to the repressing status as well, yes I feel like breaking into tears at the memories of his hands slowly kissing my body. No, it's not going to do a damn thing if I start crying about it. Most importantly, I'm shielding myself from any functions that involve anything past living; because in reality if I even attempt to go past that fragile life balance I am sure to fail. Whoever thought that an insane asylum would save a person is mental for the truth is clear to me; people who are admitted to these wretched places aren't here to be cured, they are here to be forgotten.
It's not like I'm the only wrongly accused person here. Although most of the inmates here are borderline impossible to talk to, the ones that I do get a conversation out of become notably more interesting after I hear their story.
Wendy Potter; an African-American woman with emerald green eyes and hair braided tightly into small sections who frequently talks about the cross being stabbed in his chest relentlessly during conversation isn't actually that crazy. After a short conversation during lunch (with paper plates and plastic food utensils, of course) she began to explain that her ex husband was one of those "Vampire" type of people (and I don't mean a sparkle-pire like in one of those ridiculous movies) and frequently cut her up to suck her blood, it explains the stabbed in the chest part. Of course she had no choice but to let him feed off her since he was apparently 'the perfect husband' to her for the first three years of their marriage. However, after the feedings became exceedingly more violent and just an excuse to beat her she stood up against him. When this happened her husband decided to make a 'caring' decision to reveal that the cut marks were apparently long time signs of abuse and insisted that she 'should be taken care of by professionals'. Long story short she hasn't heard anything since two years ago when she was served her divorce papers so her husband could start sucking on his twenty year old victim.
Juliet Walkers; A slightly too cheery redhead with doll like blue eyes and a small figure who begins laughing at random intervals isn't as out of it as people think she is. After a few mistakes and run in with the laws she succumbed to depression in her teenage years which lead to a drug addiction that two of her friends hosted at her house because, according to them, it looked the best. They said they always had her back, but the moment the cops kicked down the door and began searching the rooms for pot they both insisted that she was the head of the operation and began snickering behind her back as the cops dragged her away, resulting in Juliet screaming things like 'it looked nice to you!' multiple times. Needless to say the two friends jumped at the chance to proclaim her as crazy and stuff her away forever and now she repeats the laughter in hopes that it will get her out of here since it was what got her (in her opinion). I guess they weren't great friends then.
I know, their stories seem completely ridiculous and play them as the victim in every circumstance. However, you have you remember that you are only getting one half of the story. I'm sure the people who shoved Juliet and Wendy in here probably have a very different story that plays them as the innocent one in the situation.
"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" Oh great, Juliet has gone into another one of her laughter attacks at breakfast. It's hard to believe that she's just shy of her twenty-first birthday and is going to have to live the rest of her life here with no chance at a cure for her illness. "It was a pretty place, a very pretty place!" She shouts as two men drag her off, kicking and laughing the whole way.
All we do is sigh as she's carried away; Juliet's attacks happen a good three times a week. Apparently whenever she is stressed she uses laughter to cope, at least that's what she told us one morning. "Does she have to keep on doing that?" Wendy asks in a sarcastic tone, attempting to pick up her hash browns with the plastic spoon and shoveling it into her mouth.
"She can't control it, be a bit more caring why don't you?" I say in a very uncaring tone, attempting to eat my bland cereal in piece. I guess you could say that I, Wendy, Juliet, and Beth make a clique; the one that actually knows what the word clique means around here.
"I used to not be able to stop scratching the bloody scabs in hopes that I could lure my ex-husband back so I could kill him. However, do you see me scratching at my flesh and getting it into our food right now?" Wendy asks with an eye roll. She's rather cynical actually. I grin back at her even though the thought of having pieces of skin in my food sounds morbid and just plain wrong.
Beth shrugs and takes another bite of cereal. Over the past two weeks I've been here I've noticed that people don't usually talk to Beth, she blends into the background like a prop to an actor in a play. Not that she minds though. "So since Juliet is going to be out for the next four hours on some sort of vague drug selection that will only knock her out, want to go watch the big O interview J.K Rowling?" Wendy asks, it should be noted that Wendy is an addict to anything with Ophra, Ellen, and just about anything on television. Maybe it's her way to feel like she still belongs to a human world, either way she usually reserves three hours of her day to watch rich talk show hosts give money to people who obviously don't need it.
"Sorry but, I've got something I need to work on today, sweetheart. Tell me what she has to say about it though." Beth says; Beth seems to find it amusing to find nicknames for all of us here. To be honest I don't know that much about her despite she was the first one that I had talked to in here. She isn't the type to go boasting about her back story and I'm not about to ask 'oh hi, why are you in here?' because that would be insanely awkward and not to mention creepy.
"You ought to watch something besides the pictures that go through your head. They get depressing after awhile." Wendy insists just before her hashbrowns fall off of her plastic spoon. "Dammit, why can't we be trusted with actual utensils?" She mumbles to herself in anger.
Beth just lowers her head and continues to eat. For a moment there is a tension that I can't place at the table. It isn't until Wendy begins to speak again that the tension fades away again.
"So I'm guessing you're going to be joining me to watch the interview, Terri?" I'm not exactly sure if there should be a question mark at the end of what Wendy said considering it sounds a lot more like an order than a question to me. Oh well, I guess you can choose that one for yourself.
"What? Oh, sure," I say while feeling slightly disconnected to what is going on in the conversation. I don't know exactly why but for the past few days I have found it increasingly harder to get to sleep. Don't get me wrong, it was already difficult to get to sleep when flashbacks of Bryan terrorized my unconscious mind, but now it seems like I can't even get into a decent sleep before waking up in cold shivers.
"Good, and I wasn't going to take no as an answer if you were wondering." Wendy says, see? I just proved my theory that Wendy doesn't ask for anything, she expects it and is shocked if the words 'no' ever pass through one of her friend's lips. Maybe it's a control thing; I know that I had to force Will to agree with me in order to feel like he wasn't slipping away during our marriage.
"Good to know," I mumble out, biting my lip when I realize there is nothing else I can say at the moment.
Again there is another awkward silence until Wendy gets up. "Well, I'll be at the television, waiting for the interview to come on, see you there, Terri." And no sooner does she say that then her hashbrowns are left to fend for themselves and to become cold as she leaves the room.
"So…what are you planning on doing today?" I ask Beth, curiosity taking the first spot in my mind. Even though I'm probably on three different (illegal) drug medications I still retain my snoopy values and, according to Wendy and Juliet when she isn't laughing like a madman, I'll keep at least the gist of my personality as long as I attempt to keep my sanity here.
"Oh, just stuff, Huns," Beth says, although her voice doesn't have that charming southern chime that it usually carries.
"Like what stuff?"
"Stuff. I've got to go now; I'll talk to you later." Beth is already gone before I can get a word in; biting my lip I realize that I will now have to put my spying skills to the test. I mean, not only what she was totally rude, but she also happened to not answer my question, not in the slightest.
However, Wendy will kill me (and I'm not sure if I mean figuratively or literally with her) if I don't watch her show with her. Weighing out my options it is safer to go with Wendy considering Beth just gave me the cold shoulder considering Wendy actually wants my company.
Even though I know all of this, I don't flinch when I slip out of my seat and begin following Beth down the hallways.
Following Beth is easier than it sounds. Although, considering I don't know what your standard is on following people then I guess that varies. Eventually I manage to keep a good distance from her while still seeing her every turn, this is one of the times where being agile actually helps my cause.
It isn't until I see the 'second level patients' sign lit up at the top of one of the hallways that I actually manage to stop.
I should explain; over a lunch I had last week with Wendy she explained to me that depending on the mental statuses patients could have a different array of privileges in the asylum and it was up to the psychologists to give these privileges. She then went to explain that Beth was at level three while I was at a meager level one and she happened to be on level two. Oh, and I should probably mention that, according to Wendy, the consequences for going to a different level when you don't have the right to go can be…severe. She then prompted to ignore my attempts to ask her what severe consequences there exactly were.
However, why should I stop now? It wouldn't make any sense since I am already that far in to get to another level, so I might as well take the risk. This is the thought that makes me go further into the maze like labyrinth. Even though Bryan only told me there were a couple of rooms in this place, I'm no idiot.
I manage make it to the third turn off of the level two section that I feel a stinging sensation in my neck, I shake my head and walk it off.
Fourth, the sting becomes less of a sharp sensation and more of an itch, like if you were bitten by a bee and a mass of skin was becoming slightly infected by the sensation. My hands begin to claw at my neck to scratch at the feeling.
Fifth, now there is heat growing at the spot I've been scratching at, I feel the skin that I'm clawing at flake off and get under my fingernails. Ugh, how disgusting is that?
Sixth, I had to take a breath in to steady myself from the sharp pain that surrounds my neck down to my shoulder bone and yet I still manage to make it to the next turn off. There is a trickle of blood slipping down my chest.
Seventh, that is when I black out like I've been electrocuted and then burned at the neck.
"Hello Terri," Bryan's voice awakes me. I quickly jolt off the uncomfortable couch that I had been seated at.
"Don't 'hello' me," I glare at him, taking in my surroundings and feeling a cool sensation on my neck, turning down I see that a pasty white cream has been applied upon the skin l had been clawing at. The area surrounding my neck and some of my shoulders looks like it has been sunburned, but other than that it isn't all that gross.
"Be nice, sweetheart. So someone was being a naughty girl and going around the second floor have they?" He says, I don't even bother to look at him. Instead I take in the surroundings to see that we are back in his hellhole torture room, otherwise known as his office to you where I was violated.
"What happened when I was in there?" I ask, not caring how he got the information, and knowing that he most definitely has his ways.
I shift as far away as possible when his hands make a move to my neck. "I'm not about to have sex with someone with such an ugly burn," he insists, but I hold my guard until he drops his hand and chuckles, moving back to his seat. "Remember when you first admitted into here, Terri? Well it is common protocol that a collar is implied in each inmate's neck. You were just feeling the consequences of your actions."
I stroke my neck, feeling a slightly rough spot but not remembering needle marks on my neck or even the pain of having a collar put into my skin. "But what about a surgical scar?" My fingers tread over the spot where the collar had been implied, feeling like it isn't my own neck anymore, my own body. My body wouldn't attack itself.
"We're a bit smarter than you think, Terri. This 'collar' isn't as much of a physical being as it is an injection into your skin along with a small chip. That is what you are feeling on your neck right now." Bryan says, and as soon as he speaks I automatically begin feeling the back of my neck until I manage to feel out a small indent on the back of my neck, scarcely big enough for a dime, but still very much there.
"Well, Terri, I think you have had enough excitement for today, how about you go take a nice bath and then go to bed?" Bryan says with a sweet voice, like we've been friends for years and he was merely suggesting something. I don't even fight his suggestion; I just slowly make my way out of the room.
"Oh, and Terri," I turn around to see Bryan's foul smirk. "I should probably tell you that if you violate your rules more than three times, you'll die from the collar's shocks."
My voice is just as emotionally drained as I am. "People would talk; you can't just kill a human off and not face consequences."
His smirk is still on his lips as he answers.
"Try me, sweetheart."
I walk out, this time without looking back.
I just want to die.
A/N: Finally finished this chapter, I hope you guys enjoy it. It's not my best chapter but the next few chapters should be very exciting.
I hope you guys enjoyed Wendy and Juliet; they should prove to be very interesting characters in the future.
Anyways, I have got to go now, but I have to make note. Please review, I really need input on this sort of stuff.
~Shecka
