Hey check it out. I'm finally writing this again. I am so sorry about the delay, but I've been working on some other writings, including a novel that I am so excited about. In addition, school. But the important thing is that after over two months, I have finally gotten around to picking this back up. Happy New Year by the way. Okay, I won't keep you any longer, I just wanted to apologize for the enormously long and inexplicable wait after a period of updating nearly every day.
Your name is Kanaya Maryam and you are beyond concerned for your girlfriend. Ever since she started on that medication, she hasn't been herself. Her hallucinations aren't seeming to get better. She now spends almost every waking moment in her room (or rather cell) trying to drive away auditory illusions and violent impulses. The doctors have no idea what is going on. The drug worked extremely well on all the other patients, with few side-effects. This causes you to stay up at night, worried about her safety. Still, you don't visit her, even though you want nothing more than to grab ahold of her and never let go. But you know she needs her space, just a little time to think and catch her breathe so she can maybe find the light.
You are soon surprised to find Rose in your cell, though not wanting to talk. You see it as a big step for her, and you have to restrain yourself from hugging her tight.
"Kanaya..." she whispers.
You can feel your eyes light up at the sound of her voice. "Yes. Y-yes Rose. It's me."
"Kanaya I... I'm a liar..."
"Shh. No you're not. Who told you that?"
"I know I lied. I shouldn't be taking these pills," she says, her voice cracking as tears fill her eyes.
"Yes you should. They're going to make you better, Rose."
She shakes her head violently. "I used to drink. A lot. But the doctor doesn't..."
Her words hit you like a brick. She had lied to the doctors, and they gave her drugs.
The tears flow more freely now, as you realize this is the first time you have seen her cry. "I was ready to tell any lie possible if only..." she trails off as she wraps her arms around you and buries her head in your chest.
"I know," you say, slowly rocking her back and forth. "It's okay."
As you hold her in your arms, her crying starts to subside, and her breathing becomes slower and slower. And then it stops. She is no longer moving, and her heartbeat is becoming fainter and fainter. You panic. Your shout rings out through the entire asylum, your desperate call for assistance. Soon enough nurses rush in and carry her off, and you fight guards off in order to follow them. You refuse to leave her side as they take her into the infirmary and hook her up to a variety of machinery. You watch as the doctors try to restart her heart again and again. Time passes and she is still unresponsive. And although you know she is already long gone, you scream at the nurses as they record the time of death and pack up their equipment. You kick and thrash as they try to restrain you, tears running down your cheeks and mixing with Rose's, which are not quite dry yet. And with a watery view you watch the love of your life fade out of your sight, still with her mangy hair and favorite black lipstick smudged slightly across her soft lips. You didn't get to say goodbye, and you weren't in time to help her. You feel just as responsible as the drug for her death. Maybe if you would have noticed sooner, you could have helped her. Maybe if you spent more time with her, didn't give her the distance that she insisted upon, she would still be alive.
They take you back to your cell, and you have stopped fighting their grip by the time you arrive. It's a miracle that you can even make your feet carry you to your bed, where you remain for heaven knows how long, trying to avoid the pain by keeping your mind off Rose.
Your name is Jade Harley, and it has only been a week since your relocation. But it feels like twenty years. You can barely remember the faces of your friends, or what their voices sound like, or the last time you've seen them. You want nothing more than for Dave to play fetch with you, for John to scratch you behind the ears, or for Rose to rub your stomach the way you love. The guy in the cell next to yours tends to breathe very heavily, even enough for the sound of it to penetrate the metal walls. In a place that otherwise would be complete silence, it keeps you up at night. It doesn't help your sanity that you haven't seen the light of day since you came here. You can feel the lack of fresh air and exercise slowly killing you. How are you supposed to live like this, confined to a tiny cell, with food passed in to you through a tiny opening. They don't fully understand your needs, that you were literally raised outdoors and by keeping you inside they were just worsening your mental state. Hadn't any of them owned dogs before? Hell, had any of them been around humans before? Don't they know what this isolation is doing to you, doing to the heavy-breather in the cell beside yours? You slowly grow accustomed to it. You synchronize your breath with his, just for something to do. Rhythmically counting every day somehow keeps you from trying to eat your own face.