I'm plaing on doing another story about the YU YU HAKUSHO. Its going to be a YusukeHiei fic. But i need some ideas on how its going to turn out. Yusuke is going to save Hiei some how, and i don't really want it to follow the show to a T. so if you have any ideas please tell me.
Chapter 8: Nut House
The van came to an abrupt stop. The ride was just one big blur. The doctors gave me a sedative to calm me and my whole body down. It felt like they gave me laughing gas. That stuff, it's like you're high and everything's just …. ZOOM…. Off.
The door on the side opened up. A man in white scrubs stood there. He climbed in half way and grabbed the bottom of my stretcher. A soft thud, as my lower half was outside. The guy climbed in the back and then pushed my stretcher upright.
He wheeled me up to the creepy institution. The building had red ivy going up the light brick walls. Dead trees had gray moss hanging down, like in horror films. I hate this place, I really felt like Dr. Lecter. We entered the building. Dull light gray walls, an office to the right of me, and halls every direction you look.
A nurse in pink walked up to us. "He's room is this way."
She lead us down the hall to her right and my left. Many sealed off doors passed by. Little slots for food trays, blankets, or clothes to go through in the center of the door. I was never going to see the outside world again. I was going to stay in a room till I'm released or dead. I sure as hell was going to be bored out of my mind.
We came to a stop at the end of the hall. The door on the left was opened. The guy wheeled me into the dungeon. He released the straps over my chest, then he laid me down on the bed. He and the nurse left me all alone. I stared off into the abyss. My mask and straightjacket still on.
I guess I could think about my feeling towards my older brother. I could think about how I change me life, or just rot here like the trash I am, as Angel said.
Part of this was good; I was away from all my problems like teasing Bobby, name calling Angel, painful memories of Mom's house. The part that was bad was my family wasn't there. I wanted a familiar face, but that wasn't going to happen any time soon.
A few minutes floated by when my door opened up. A tall female Dr. with long blond hair, in a ponytail, walked in. She walked up next to me.
"Mr. Mercer how are you?" I just gave her a blank stare. "I'm going to show you around, so you'll get familiar with the place then ask you a few questions."
I sat up. She helped me stand fully. Knee still very much painful. I lend against the wall. She left my room and I followed slowly after her. We walked up to the entrance of the building, then took a left.
"I'm going to be your Doctor here. I monitor a handful of cases like you. Once a week I'll check on your progression." She stopped walking. "This is the Physic Room. Strange name I know," I looked inside. There was nothing but chairs all in a circle. A group therapy session, no doubt. "But we just want to know why do think and do they way you do."
I bet anyone would want to get inside of a Mercer's mind, just to see how fucked up we really are. I know some people who would pay a bunch of money just to know my middle name. All they going to do is back away and give up on me. There's too much messed up things inside my head. Too many misconnected plugs to tell me what's right and what's wrong.
"This is Dr. Good's room. She is such a sweet old lady. She is free anytime you need her." She started to walk again.
Like I'll ever go to some ol' bat for anything. The only person I ever trusted with any- something's was Mom. Only time Dr. G will ever see or hear from me is when I'm in her room.
"This is the art room. You'll like this room, Mr. Mercer. You have many, many arts to chose from." I guess I might like this room. "Dr. Snee over sees this room. He's a sensitive man, he cares for everyone deeply, kind of like his own kids."
I physically twitched at that. All the men I ever knew who was sensitive around me has hurt me. I dreaded going into that room. I don't want to be anywhere near that room with him in it, especially if I'm alone. I think I'm just psyching myself out. Maybe he's not the monster I thought he was or maybe he was. Maybe part of me wanted something to happen so I could stay fucked up. That's all I ever known.
"And this is the creative writing room. Here is where you can writing about anything you feel you need to let off or just write random things." Writing? That could be alright. "I run this room." Nope, not any more. "Please take a seat at one of the tables."
I hopped over to one of the tables farthest from the woman, then took a seat. Dr. whoever took a seat at her desk. She never told me her name. Did she even have a name? I thought.
"I'm Dr. Whin." That's a very stupid name, well so is Mercer. "How old are you?"
Was she serious? As soon as I got here so did my records. She had time to read them. She should know everything about me. I loathed people who asked questions they already knew the answer too. Teachers did it when I was a new student and they read my name on the piece of paper I gave them before hand. The cops asking me to tell them where those guys touched me. They knew where. Why couldn't people just use their brain? A higher power give it to them for a reason.
I wasn't about to answer her. If she wanted to know how old, or ask anything else, she could look in my folder. In fact I'm not going to talk to her or anyone till I leave this place for good.
"I know I have your records, but I wanted to start you a clean slat here." She threw my file away. "Now, how old are you?"
I don't give two shits about a new slat. That doesn't change the fact that all that shit happened to me. I'm still going to have nightmares of my past. Does she really think doing that is going to change my past? If so, why is she a Dr.? Damn, I'm surrounded by fucking dumbasses.
"Come on, Jack, please answer me. This is the first step to recovery. Will you answer me?" I shook me head 'no'. "Right. Go to dinner. James!" She called out.
A big black nurse walked into the room. He came up to me then helped me up. We left the creative writing room.
Dinning Room
James led me to a table. He took me to a table with hand cuffs attached to it. The cuffs gave me a leeway of about a half foot. They think I'm going to attack someone. Why would I attack someone? I know I'd get into deeper trouble than I already was. I would like to get out of here as soon as possible. I'd probably kill myself if I had to stay here more than four months.
James undid my jacket and sat me down in the chair. Slowly he cuffed each wrist. I lifted up my arms a little, to get the feel of the chains. A strange feeling came over me. The cold, sliver metal melted with my skin. It was like I was one with it. It had a low slow pulse, beating in tune with my heart. I felt its pain. It didn't want to be made into this, like how I didn't want to live.
A plate of food was dropped down in front of me, snapped me back into reality. The meal was some kind of meat in gravy and rice around it. There was also some steamed carrots and a glass of milk. Someone unhooked my mask and laid it beside me. It felt so good to have it off my face.
Dinner went by quick. Nasty too. Well they restrained me again. Not fun at all. They had to hook the belt, that goes between the legs, and that made me feel uncomfortable. That brought back last night with Bobby and him undoing my clothes. That didn't feel weird as this did. It felt like they were groping me. I wanted to punch them, but I held back.
James walked me back to my room where a female nurse awaited us. He laid me down on my bed. The female nurse cleaned a stop on my neck, then injected me with some yellow liquid. As soon as that went in me, I got sleepy. Soon I fell asleep.
The next day, two big nurses helped me to the Psychic room. Inside there were many people of all ages. Some as young as ten and old as sixties. As I entered the room, I noticed that I was the only one in a straightjacket and a mask on. I felt like I was the ugly duckling. I hated being the odd ball of a group. If I was in my house or with my band I was okay. My body started to shake. I wanted to go back to my room. I really did.
They sat me down then left. Everyone looked at me as if I was some wild animal. I just ignored them; I mean there was nothing I could do.
"Good morning all." Dr. G walked in. She was a middle aged woman. He graying hair was put into a tight bun. I looked away. She reminded me of Mom. "Let me introduce to you our new member. Jack Lewis Mercer."
I flinched at my middle name. it was my fathers first name. it's been then years since I used or heard that name. that name haunted me, well not really but you get what I mean. My father looking down on me as if I wasn't nothing more than dirt. The words he said bounced inside of my head. 'You piece of shit, you're worthless, you were the biggest mistake ever, your mother should have had an abortion, and you're lower than dirt. Dogs wouldn't even bother to shit on you. You little whore, you fag, and you are dead to me.'
Tears formed in my eyes. Why did she have to use my middle name? Why not just Jack Mercer? She should have read my files too, or she did but she just didn't care. If so, what kind of dr. is she? They are suppose to help, not hurt.
"Jack," The old bat stood in front of me. "You alright sweetie?" I looked away from her. "Don't look away. Your older brother said you always do that. You can't make your problems go away, by looking away. You have to face them head on. Now look at me."
I slowly verted my eyes towards her. For a split second she looked like mom. She even sounded like her when she told me to look at her. I missed that woman so much.
"Good. I just want you to nod you head yes or no. Okay?" I nodded. "Did I up set you?" Again I nodded. "Was it your… hold up your fingers for 1st, 2nd, or 3rd name."
I held up two fingers. I don't know why but I felt at ease with her, like she was Mom. Maybe in some way she was. Maybe mom was using her to get to me.
"Alright. Thank you. I wont speak that name again. If you need me, I'm here for you anytime, okay sweetie?" I nodded. She walked back to her seat.
An hour later the session was over. A boy thought his father killed his dog 'Wolf Wolf' on purpose. The boy got upset about it because his dad never said her was sorry for running over the stupid dog. Some old guy asked many questions like did I kill someone, why am I here shouldn't I be in prison, on and on. They made me feel bad. Soon everyone else thought I was a murder.
Dr. G then asked me what I was here for to prove the old man wrong. I simply replied 'suicide'. She made me say with out forcing me too, which was really weird. She then asked was it my first time. I said no. She then started to do the twenty question thing on me but I didn't want to tell anymore. So she suggested that I let her read and see my art to help me if I wasn't going to talk.
It was art time after Dr. G. There I sat alone. No one wanted to be near me. They were still so afraid of me. That was a hug blow to my heart. One more scar to add to the many my heart has.
Dr. Snee asked us all to start drawing anything we wanted to draw, just nothing perverted or NC rated. I picked up a sharp pencil and started to draw what my wounded heart wanted to draw.
The first thing I put on the paper was myself. Dead trees on either side of me. Snakes dripped from the tree tops wrapping themselves around my wrists. Roots of the trees locked my feet in place. A blacken thorny vine wrapped around my neck tight enough to make my neck bleed. A silhouette of a demon laughing behind me. Laughing at my life and all the things I've done. A boney clawed finger went through my heart. Blood flowing out of me like a waterfall. Wood land creatures surrounded me giggling at my suffering.
"What does this mean Jack?" Dr. S said behind me.
I didn't answer.
Dr. S just stood there trying to figure out my drawing.
Dr. Whin's Class
Again I was seating alone, this time I didn't care. I wanted to be alone if I was going to write. I started writing before Dr. W came into the room. I wrote about a beautiful landscape being tainted by blood and hate. Whiteness of snow turning to red. Ringing out Shells hitting the frozen ground. Screams of terror and panic. No one answering the call of the one who was hurt. When all think is lost, new life bring only pain and torment.