A/N: This jumps in, quite literally, just after we learn of Billy's death and before McMurphy jumps out at Nurse Ratched. It is a different take on events, with something of a different ending.
As I said in the summary, I suppose you needn't have watched the film or read the book to be able to understand this fic, but please if you do read it (and even if you hate/don't understand it), please post me a review. Thank you so much.
One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest
"McMurphy, don't! It's what she wants," Harding leapt forward, seizing the arm of his newfound friend.
"And what if I want to give it to her?" McMurphy sneered, his eyes never leaving those of the incensed nurse. "What then?"
"Please?" the redhead implored, his grip momentarily tightening. "Please." Dropping the arm, he stepped back towards the others, his own body shaking with untold emotion.
"So," McMurphy stepped forward, his eyes cold, empty, "you want me to freak out, do you? You want me to let go of everything I have, to hit you, to hurt somebody. To do anything that'll give you reason to tie me down and rid me of everything that makes me who I am?"
From behind, McMurphy fancied he heard a whimper.
"You think that your accusations will break me?" he asked again, his eyes boring into the nurse's, challenging her with every word he uttered.
Nurse Ratched said nothing. McMurphy doubted that even if she had wanted to, she would have been able to talk at the present moment. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face taut as she struggled to keep her own emotions and actions under control. She wanted nothing more than to beat him out of everything he was worth, he knew it; he could recognise the signs a mile off.
Would he give her the satisfaction, though? Was it worth it?
Even as he goaded at her, McMurphy was in two minds as to his intentions. On the one hand, he would so dearly love to see her cry out in fear, in pain, in utter abandonment. Oh yes, he had heard those sounds before and, as wrong as it may be, it had an effect on him. For him, to hear a woman in fear of her life was one of the most precious sounds he could hope to hear. Perhaps, he considered fleetingly, he was mentally unstable. Perhaps he did deserve to be committed.
On the other hand, however, he knew how much one act of unbridled passion, half a minute of unrestrained anger would cost him. Effectively, it would be the end of him. It would be the ending of his freedom of speech, of mind and of body. It would submit him to a life dependent on others, a life dependent on institutions just like this. Personnel, like Nurse Ratched would come and go, patients would make fleeting visits, but he would be a permanent fixture; the vegetable in the corner, never able to speak his own mind if, indeed, he was still aware he had one.
A life without hope, McMurphy pondered as he continued to stare down the nurse, a life without dignity was barely a life at all. It would be much the same as that which he was leading now; only now, he could speak out against it. He knew his own mind and nobody could stop him from verbalising it. Was it really worth giving all of that up? Losing the last scrap of independence he could retain in a place like this for one minute of satisfaction.
No, he decided and with a final look of deep-rooted disgust and hatred, turned his back on and walked away from the nurse, away from the shock-silenced patients and into the swirling vortex of his mind, his free mind.
And there it is – a small Cuckoo's Nest interlude. Please tell me what you thought of this, please review.