Scarlett and Max finally gained access to the asylum's activities, but learned that these aren't fun and games. Scarlett has seemingly been left scarred from this experience, which raises a question: Why? Let's find out…
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod
This cannot be reality! I must be in some sort of fever induced dream, or in a very vivid nightmarish hallucination. It shouldn't be possible for a cult to be recognised as an official institution for mental health! What the FUCK is happening?!
Calm down, Scarlett, calm down. Inhale. Exhale. Inha-
Cough cough
I can't regain composure. Not after such a disturbing revelation. I think my mental wellbeing is worse than when I was forced into here! What an asylum this is.
I can't believe I'm saying this, but I am so thankful for Max right now. I don't have the faculties to walk or talk right now, so he's gently dragging me back to our room. His palm is surprisingly smooth and comforting. I've heard him talking to me a few times so far, but I haven't been able to process his words. However, I can tell from his tone of voice that he's trying to be reassuring. Probably failing, but trying nonetheless.
Max takes me into what is probably our room, and gently sets me down onto a mattress. He says something again, although I still haven't achieved equanimity quite yet so I can't understand him. Why doesn't he hate me? I'm sure everyone else from Pahkitew Island hates me now, but Max is different for some reason. I can't believe that such a cockroach would be able to comprehend the concept of sympathy. I still don't like him, but I could perhaps be a little more lenient.
I still can't get that dreadful experience out of my cranium. I refuse to be part of a cult.
NOT AGAIN.
The memories of my pitiful past come back to me like a tsunami. Flashbacks of traumatic rituals I only half-remember, the cause of the trident shaped scar on my upper dorsum, and my parents' sadistic endorsement of it all. It's too much. I need to let it all out.
I burst into a pitiful display of tears and envelop Max in a tight embrace. I don't care if I still don't like the fiend, I need someone who might have any chance of caring about me. I feel Max give a softer embrace back, confirming my hopes to be true. Max might be the very first person in my life to genuinely care about me, even if only a little. That's pathetic.
I can feel myself swiftly calming down, my breathing is becoming more stable, and my thoughts aren't drowning me quite as much. For the first time in what feels like hours, I can hear Max's nasally voice.
"Scarlett? Have you finally unbroken yourself? Just speak, please." His voice is full of desperation, he's probably been trying to vie for my attention for some time now. It contrasts greatly with his otherwise arrogant and whiny voice.
"Why did you console me?" I want to know why Max of all people would be willing to bring solace to me when no one else in my life has.
"Why on earth wouldn't I? Sure, I am EVIL, but you are my friend, and you were very, uh… sad." My feelings are very mixed on Max's claim that I am his 'friend', but I still have gratitude for him.
"Well, thank you Max."
"You are welcome, Scarlett. Knock on my door if you want to talk to me again, I'll be-"
Knock knock
Who could that be? I'm not entirely sure if I want visitors right now, but I'll let them in anyway. Max grabs the door as if he telepathically read my thoughts.
The person I see is a rather tall, skinny caucasian man with dirty blond hair in the inmate's uniform. He must be Graham, the only roommate I haven't met until now. He's fidgeting with his hands a lot, and is wearing an incredibly nervous expression on his face. He almost resembles Shawn from the Island in demeanour. Max seems confused at Graham's presence, so he's probably never crossed paths with him either.
"Can we help you?" Max speaks first with obvious discomfort in his voice.
"The cameras will catch your tears, just like they capture our every other move! I warn you to never look into them. You will be better off that way!" That was… highly outlandish.
"What on earth are you talking about?! We're not being recorded." Max is even more uncomfortable to the point of looking like a Tolkien-esque creature.
"Aha, that's what they WANT you to think! The five of us are always being watched by cameras for a reality show, all of our actions are being observed by the judging public!" I think I could make an amateur diagnosis of Graham's psyche. Truman Show Disorder. While not an officially recognised mental disorder, Truman Show Disorder is characterised by the sufferer having delusions of their life being part of a reality show. Quite a fascinating topic.
"We're not in a reality show, you nincompoop! I think you need a reality check!" That was actually quite witty of Max. I giggle at his admittedly humourous wisecrack and quickly think of my own addition.
"Perhaps he's actually right, Max. I wouldn't put it past Mclean to record us in here as some sort of sadistic spin-off show." Max practically explodes in laughter, but abruptly stops as suddenly as he began.
"Wait… Could that genuinely be possible? Is this just Chris' punishment for YOUR crime? If this is, he will PAY!" That is actually a fair point. Especially the part about Chris paying.
"Listen, I don't know who this 'Chris' person is, but you have to take me seriously! We are being-"
"OUT!" Max practically shoves Graham out of the room and slams the door in his face. He looks highly exasperated and a bit creeped out.
"Thank all that is EVIL that that buffoon is out, I couldn't handle his general sweatiness any longer!" How repugnant.
"That's gross, Max. Just like you." I smirk at that half-joking quip in his general direction.
"Hey! I always make sure to keep my hygiene in perfect condition, thank you very much!" Sure he does. I bet he bathes with rubber ducks.
"Why did you suddenly kick Graham out of here? He wasn't exactly insulting your evilness."
"He was just… giving me the willies with his crazy talk. Do you think that this has been set up by Chris and we're on camera?" Hmm.
"I wouldn't put it past that conniving egomaniac. I could check for hidden cameras, I know a few things about setting spying equipment up. Uh, don't ask." I put hidden cameras and other tracking equipment in the homes of people who have wronged me. I know Chris, and possibly Max is certainly going to receive that treatment once I'm out of here.
"Alright then, I'm gonna go back to my room to leave you to do that. EVIL needs time to think about what happened today. Eugghh…" Fair enough. Max leaves me to my devices. Now I need to search my room for any hidden cameras. This should be easy since the room is so sparse. Not many hiding places.
First I check the mattress, scrutinising every minute detail for tiny lenses, but I do not find any of the sort. Next, I check the walls, although they wouldn't usually be a good place to hide a camera. I might as well be thorough. I still find nothing.
The only place there could be a camera is the lavatory. There better be nothing in there otherwise the pervert who set it up will regret it for the coming decade. I enter the small walled-off area and conduct a final search and thankfully find nothing. I believe that there are no cameras recording us, thank god. I'll tell Max and possibly Graham whenever I run into them next. I doubt the latter will believe me since he's so caught up in his delusions.
Sigh
I still can't get over it. The sheer unlikelihood of this occurring again in my life. I need to sleep it off, I don't care if the sun is still out.
I need to get out of this cult.
Wow, Scarlett is apparently more of a victim than we thought. We still don't know more than a passing mention of her backstory though. Is Scarlett going to successfully escape the cult? What about Max? If you have feedback or general praise, please leave a review.
