Ravings of a Fevered Mind
Chapter 5: Leech Jar
There is only two more days left until we make our escape. I don't think I've been so happy or excited in my life. I can't wait to be free of this place. I've already started to forget what the world was like outside of my cell.
At night I've been conferring with Mary and Lucy on the last minute details of our plan. In a whispered hush, Mary goes over again and again the different corridors and rooms of the asylum and when the best time would be to leave with the lest likelihood of being caught, while Lucy bounds about the cell giggling manically. Mary must keep telling her to keep it quiet, for fear of Dr. Fogg or Mr. Watson finding out what we are up to. The keys to the asylum are safely in their possession and as of now, Fogg and Watson are completely oblivious of our plan. It really does look like everything will go according to plan. I can't wait to get out.
The sun has just begun to rise as a few feeble rays of light filter through the barred window of my cell. Watson has already been around to give us breakfast and give the more unruly inmates a sound beating. I've been put in my straight-jacket, which can mean only one thing: it's treatment day.
The door to my cell slides open and Mr. Watson stands in the doorway. "Get up." he says harshly.
I shakily stand up and walk toward the entrance of the cell. Watson roughly grabs me by the throat and fastens the leather choking-collar around my neck. He takes the leather strap fastened to the collar in his hands and drags me through the corridors of the asylum like a dog. As I look about me at the winding hallways and doors we pass, I recall each one of them from the plan of the asylum Mary showed me and go though our plan in my head. Each door and hallway bringing me closer to our escape and impending freedom that is all soon to come.
Watson finally leads me into the exam room. The room has a high, cathedral ceiling. On the walls are strange looking medical instruments. Amputation knives, drills for conducting brain surgeries, and the like, as well as other instruments that I cannot even begin to speculate their uses. On the shelves are vials of strange looking liquids, jars of preserved specimens of God knows what and jars of leeches. Hundreds of jars of writhing, blood sucking leeches. In the center of the room is the exam table fitted with restraints and in the far left corner stands Dr. Fogg; a tall, thin, balding man in a white, stained lab coat.
Dr. Fogg picks up a clipboard from a table, glances at it, then looks directly at me.
"Ah, case number 365, Tobias Ragg." Dr. Fogg says. "Delusions, hallucinations, night terrors, panic attacks, general ravings, even an attempted suicide. And so young, too. Such a sad case indeed. 'ow 'as he been getting along, Watson?"
" He seems to 'ave become more quiet than usual, sir. He doesn't go on for hours at a time with his mad ravings as he used to. He is still subjected to panic attacks, though." Watson answered .
"Hmm, perhaps we are making some progress 'ere? Very good, very good." Dr. Fogg says, writing something down on the clipboard. " 'ow are you doing this morning, Tobias?"
I back away a bit and turn my head to the side. I don't even want to look at that cruel, sick, sorry excuse for a doctor, let alone answer him.
"Don't feel like talking, do ya?" Dr. Fogg says "Well, let's start with the treatment then, shall we?"
I have become used to the "treatments" (if that term can even be used to describe them) by now. It's a very sad state when one has become accustomed to something like that. I supposed that I've made it a little bit better for myself that I barely cringe at the large needles or fuss over the leeches.
I sit down on the cold metal table and Watson begins to loosen the straps on my straight-jacket. Something, though, just doesn't seem right. I don't know what it is. I have this strange, sinking feeling in my stomach, and I don't know why. Watson takes the straight-jacket off of me and throws it down on the floor. I glance over to the side and see Dr. Fogg preparing the syringes.
"Now just lay back and let me strap ya to the table." Mr. Watson says to me.
I stay in my present position and stiffen up, gripping onto the table. I look down at the tiled floor, and then look back up at Watson.
"Come on lad, don't make this 'arder than it 'as to be." he says.
I still do not respond to him. My eyes shift from side to side. I can't take it anymore. I just need to get out of here! I release my grip from the table and jump down. I dart away from Mr. Watson's direction and make my way for the door. Watson whirls around to see me fleeting for the door in mute shock. I hear the syringe Dr. Fogg was preparing crash to the floor.
"Watson! You dumb brute! Get 'im!" Fogg shouts.
Just as I step out the door, Watson grabs me by the collar.
"Were do you think you're going, lad?" Watson asks slyly, picking me up off the ground.
I know exactly where I'm going; and it's far, far away from here. I try to wriggle my way out of his grasp, but it's no use. His grip is far too tight. "Let me go!" I shout at him.
" I don't think so." He says shaking his head.
"Please, just let me go! Let me go!" I shout at the top of my lungs. I try wriggling my way out again. I try kicking and punching at him. "Let me go!"
"Would you knock it off, you fucking urchin!" he yells, shaking me.
I keep persistent. One of my punches just nearly misses his face. "Let me go! Let me go! Let me…"
"Would you shut up already!" he says. He looks me hard in the face and then bashes my head against the brick wall. I feel my head make contact with the wall and a sharp pain go through my skull.
He lifts me up to eye level and looks me hard in the face again. "Well, are we done?"
I shake my head slowly. "No…just let me go. Let me go. Let me go…" I say groaning. My head hurts so badly.
"' Wot the fucking 'ell is it going to take to get you to keep quiet." he says snarling. "Well, maybe this finally will." He then takes me and throws me against the wall. Again, and again, and again. He lets go of me and I slide to the floor, hitting the ground hard. My head hurts even worse now. It feels like the room is spinning around me. My vision starts to blur. I hear footsteps but I can't make out where they're coming from. Everything is becoming so indistinct. I feel the sharp pinch of a needle in my neck and everything goes black.
"Toby. Toby! Wake up. Please, please wake up. Just please wake up. Toby, please wake up…"
The voice seems so distant and indistinct. I open my eyes a tiny bit, then quickly shut them again. The pain hits me like a bag of bricks. It's not just my head that hurts now; everything hurts. Every breath I struggle to take feels like someone is stabbing me in the chest. I open my eyes again, more completely now. My eyes quickly adjust to the dim light. I look up and see Mary hovering over me. She puts on a pained smile and brushes her hand across my face. I can see that she had been crying.
"Oh, Toby…" she says, her voice starting to falter.
I turn my eyes from her and look around the room. Something strikes me as odd; there is no window in the room. I look at the door which is slightly ajar and there is no small barred window in the top. Beyond the door, I can just make out a flight of stairs in the dim light coming from a torch on the wall. This can't be my cell. This isn't making any sense to me.
"W-w-where am I? This-this isn't my c-cell." I barely murmur out.
"I know, Toby, I know it's not." Mary says softly.
"B-b-but where am I?" I ask again. I want to know where they put me now.
Mary lets out a shaky sigh and caresses my face. "You're in solitary confinement. It's where they put the worst of the worst inmates."
I close my eyes and whimper softly. I guess beating me almost to death wasn't good enough for them.
I hear foot steps to the left of me. I look to the side and see Lucy kneel down beside me. I then hear the light pitter-patter of feet, which belong to Master Edmund Rottendam. The rat jumps unto Lucy's lap and eyes me intently with his beady black eyes.
"I can't believe they did this to you." Mary says shaking her head.
"I can." Lucy says coldly, stroking Master Edmund.
"I suppose you are right; very right." Mary replies. "But why? And with so close to inspection day, too. You would think that they would want to 'ave all the inmates to be in reasonable 'ealth. Why, just why?"
I know exactly why. I realize now that it was such an idiotic move to try to escape then and there. I should of just went along with the treatment as I usually do. I just needed to get out. I just couldn't take it anymore. I'm so stupid! This is going to compromise our entire plan for escape. I really don't want to tell them this, though. I try to sit up, but I'm met with another severe onslaught of pain.
"Easy, easy; you really shouldn't try moving too much." Mary says, helping me lay back down on the cold stone floor. "You 'ave at lest a few broken ribs and a concussion at best. Can you move your 'ands and arms for me?"
I move my arms slightly and tap my fingers against the floor. I lift my hand and touch my face, which I find is sticky with blood.
"Well, at lest you can move them, 'ow do they feel? Do they 'urt at all?"
"Not really." I say.
"All right, 'ow about your feet and legs?"
My left leg feels fine for the most part, but my right leg I can't move at all. It hurts far too much.
Mary sighs. "Well, then it's most likely broken. Great, just great…"
I close my eyes and swallow hard. "Will-will we still be able to get out?" I ask. With the way I feel now, I think I'll be lucky if I'll be able to make it through the night.
"I 'ope so Toby, I 'ope so. We are going to do everything we can to get you out of 'ere, before they 'urt you again. We 'ave to get you out of 'ere." Mary says, taking hold of my hand and squeezing it gently. Lucy moves a bit closer to me and does the same. Edmund even shows his sympathy by placing his furry little face against my hand. It makes me feel a little bit better to know that I have people looking out for me.
Mary brushes my blood soaked hair away from my face. "We 'ave to go now before Mr. Watson or Dr. Fogg find out that we're gone, all right? We're going to try to get you out of 'ere, I promise." She then places a kiss on my cheek and stands up. "Come on Lucy, we 'ave to go."
Lucy gets up and follows her sister, but not before telling me good-bye. I can hear her voice has a tinge of sorrow in it. She takes Edmund in her hands, but he jumps out and scurries over to me and curls up beside my neck.
"Edmund! Come! It's time to go! Do you want us to get caught?" Lucy says crossly.
"Aww, I think he wants to keep Toby company. Let him be, sister." Mary says.
"All right, fine. Edmund, you better take good care of 'im" Lucy says.
I reach over and scratch Edmund on the head. He squeaks at me and nudges me with his nose. He then lays back down next to me.
I hear their fleeting foot steps and the door closing; leaving me in complete darkness with the rat and the fear that I might not make it out of the asylum alive.