Faith

Garibaldi Course

"Before this river
Becomes an ocean
Before you throw my heart back on the floor
Oh baby I reconsider
My foolish notion
Well I need someone to hold me
But I'll wait for something more
Yes I've gotta have faith…
"

- George Micheal, popularized by Limp Bizkit

Alexia looked up from the sink, and saw two very tired eyes staring back at her. She and Psymon hadn't slept together in nearly three or four weeks… she was worried about him, worried that she brought back memories of his past that he had to face. It was inevitable that they would come back, she had known they would, but all along, knowing that they had got on quite well for five months, she had been hoping deep down that they wouldn't. But hope was not reality, and it could do nothing to make their trials any easier.

As she wiped her wet face dry with the small hand towel, Alexia noticed the big bags under eyes; purple and sickly, they made her look more pale than she already was. Heaving a heavy sigh, she stood up straight and walked out of the bathroom and into her hotel room. They were out of the apartment, she and Psymon, and were now sharing a small room at the hotel. Luckily it had two beds, which made the nightmares easier on Psymon's vocal cords, but as she was still near him, the demons were powerful. Alexia had tried to make Psymon face them, but the physical pain that he had to go through, and that which she felt as a repercussion was a bit too much to handle.

Her skin was marred from where Psymon had grabbed her, blue bruises on her pale skin blooming every night when she went to wake him up from the nightmares. He just wasn't ready to face them, and Alexia was aware that he may never be. So that was why she was going to pack her bags. She brought him nothing but anguish these days, and it wasn't good for the guy. He had to face the demons on his own, just as he had done years before…

***

They hadn't just merely thrown him in jail for being accused of molesting Alexia, they had just plain thrown him in the asylum. With the real freaks and the true weirdos, people who couldn't keep themselves sane, couldn't keep themselves from slitting their wrists and had to stay in straight jackets. Evergreen Mental Institution was a hellhole in the way of institutions, Alexia remembered hearing the stories about the place from the kids at Harldon's when she was seven. Ten years had passed and she still remembered hearing the stories.

"They once tried to abandon the idea of asylums, like the States did," Julie, her roommate had whispered to her one night. "And they opened the doors, let the freaks out." Julie hadn't known anything else, but curious for more information, alexia had gone to Evan, who knew more.

"Lexie, you don't wanna know," he had told her gravely.

"Just tell her, Ev," Simon had told him, "she's gonna find out from somebody else, anyway. So just tell her, because it would be better to hear it from you." Evan had agreed and told her. The insane people, without their meds, had gotten into Northern Okanogan, began to reform to their mental ways, began to show signs of their diseases. And then they had returned to the asylum every night, because they were homeless and had no where to go… and people began to hear things. Screams, horrendous, bloodcurdling shrieks that came from the institution. Sounded like ghosts, like the spirits, yet these were living souls. And soon enough, the building went into disrepair, they broke windows, started fires, hurt themselves and each other.

And no one would go near the place, night or day, because of the horrific, atrocious sound that came from it. When the government finally reopened Evergreen, half a team of psychologists were killed by the psychopaths. Blood had stained every workable surface, people had died in every room, yet the government didn't let them tear the place down. They just fixed it up, cleared out the old psychos and brought in the new. And now Simon was locked in there. Alexia knew it was her fault, partially, but couldn't stand to see him, couldn't make herself go visit the boy who had saved her.

Simon was messed up these days. Didn't speak. Didn't move. Didn't even try to fight off the nurses putting the straight jacket on him. Just let them do what they had to. Took his meds quietly. Four different shots, two times a day, popping a few pills every four hours or so, he was inert, nearly a dead soul… Yet he was still alive inside. He was not going crazy, he knew it. He didn't want to end up like every other fool that got himself thrown in there. He wanted to come out on top; wanted to escape and get away from the voices that told him he was nothing, that told him Alexia was blaming him.

But every day the voices grew stronger, grew louder, feasting upon his anguished soul in a manner that made Simon believe that he was already dead. And then came the night all terrors were topped. He had been sleeping peacefully in his crib… a full-size bed surrounded by thick wooden bars and covered with a double stitched canvas sheet, attached to the bars with steel o-rings threaded through matching steel grommets… But then the demon came. Monstrous. Ugly. Terrifying at the very least. Simon heard it speak that night, just once.

"Simon…" It was a whisper, naught more, but the tone and the voice, one which he recognized, a voice he would never forget. The demon brought with him other minions… and not only minions, but hostages… and cold, a cold so deep it went straight for his inner self. He felt the straight jacket being un-strapped, taken from his arms. It felt wondrous to let his arms down at his sides, to not have them bound to his body… but no sooner than he had thought it, the minions began to tear at him, claw at his flesh, ripped open the layers of skin upon his arms… the pain was nearly unbearable, and as the demons face came closer, its hot, putrid breath filling Simon's nostrils, he could take it no longer.

Letting out a ferocious howl, a shriek, a scream, Simon gave into the beasts, did what they wanted him to. A light came on in the room; the demon and his harem had vanished. Simon looked down at his arms, saw red stains upon them, and on the bright white bed sheets, as well. A shadow overcame him, and he turned away shutting his eyes tightly, fearing the worst. But there was no horrible stench. No hot breath on his cheek, no ice washing over his body… Just… soothing sounds, a cool hand upon his feverish cheek, a sweet smell in his nose.

"Look, Doctor…" A kind voice. Simon felt his arm being picked up, examined by soft, lightly probing fingers. When of the doctors touched an open wound, he whimpered slightly, not liking the sound, but not being able to do anything else. They knew his record: he hadn't spoken aloud for months, hadn't moved of his own accord in weeks. They knew of his past, of how he had come to the facility, why he was to be kept there for the rest of his life…

"Simon, sit up, dear," a nurse spoke to him softly, and he felt hands on his back, helping him sit up properly. He wasn't able to control his body, and his head lolled limply to the side, making it look as though he had a broken neck. His eyes fluttered shut, but hearing the doctors speak, he forced them open, just in time to see another nurse flicking an injection needle and preparing his arm to take it. They might as well just hook up an IV, he thought. The needle moved slowly into the pulsating vein in Simon's under forearm, just a tiny prick of pain; so used to having needles plunged into his arms, he wasn't even sure he entirely felt it, or if it was just his mind registering the breaking of his skin.

The meds dripped into his bloodstream, began to spread through his body slowly… slowly… then utter calm overcame him like wild fire. His shaking arms were still, his racing thoughts were no more, his chattering teeth and grinding jaw were relaxed. And Simon knew nothing, except that he needed more. It made the pain go away. It made the hurt go away. The voices were silent.

O, but the power of drugs was great.

***

Addiction. She remembered it herself. Addiction to things so powerful, it wasn't quitting when you stopped, it was escaping and saving yourself. Alexia shuddered. Her own personal demons weren't going to come out of her cave. She wouldn't let them. All threats were consequently dealt with… all of them discarded without so much as a thought. Picking up her suitcase, backpack, and snowboard, she looked around the hotel room one last time before slinking out of the door, and back to where she came from- Okanogan.

Sweet Home Alabama? Not really.

***

Ehh, it's short, I know. But getting back into my groove might take a while… *ducks to keep from getting pelted with rotten tomatoes…*

*Star of Light*