CHAPTER 6: JIMMY HENDRIX' WAY
The attic wasn't isolated, the roof was too high and the room too big to keep the heat of the fire place which was placed in the center. It was too cold in winter and too hot in summer. He only liked spring and autumn because the temperature was more pleasant. He was alone in his prison, afraid to live and afraid to survive.
Winter was full of pain, it was too cold and he felt humidity inside his body reaching his bones and it was never leaving. His hands and feet were always frozen. A sweater and some socks weren't enough to keep the poor warmth of his weak body.
He was literally frozen. He touched his face and saw sweat on his fingers. He had trouble breathing and he was coughing a lot, so much he couldn't sleep anymore. He never slept a lot but this was even worse.
She was here watching him and he felt a mix of doubt and fear in her eyes. He's been sick for weeks and nothing she gave him seemed to make him feel better. She was losing him. He didn't want to get better at all, he was holding to the sickness very tight like it was a new hope for him: the hope to fall asleep and never wake up again.
He remembered this time very well because it was the only time she put her hands on him with no intention to hurt. No beating, no painful caress, just tenderness.
"You have to get better… God doesn't want you to let go, angel."
She pulled the lock of hair sticking on his forehead away and he shivered because of her touch, and then she kissed him.
"I won't let him take you away from me." She insisted on the last word.
Me… so it wasn't about him, it was all about her and her broken toy, her flesh doll losing its life. He felt it because of the words she said to him. It was not his pain that pushed her to act with such tenderness, it was just fear to lose something she owned.
He learnt how to read in her silence, in her looks and in her moves. He was feeling her emotions like she was a mirror reflecting his opposite.
She stood up all of a sudden and smiled for no reason… one of her weird smile.
"No question!" she affirmed. "He's mine!" she screamed looking at the skylight. She seemed to directly talk to that God she adored so much.
She came back a few hours later with that strange quiet man, another torturer who was following her like he was her shadow. He bent over the bed and lifted him with no caution, throwing him on his shoulder as easy as it'd be a bag full of feathers. He was so thin after all…
He was scared. If the strange man had put him on the floor he would've crawled to his bed even with no strength…
A corridor… and then she opened the door of a small colorful room. The man threw him on the bed and with a nod she made him go out.
She took clean pajamas and changed him as he was too weak to do it himself. He didn't complain, he became a puppet between her hands.
He observed every details of the room, trying to remember every smell and to keep every inch in mind. The sheets smelt very good, not like his mattress which smelt like dirt and pain. He closed his eyes tight when she changed her pants but nothing happened. He was still cold, his breath was shorter and shorter. Breathing was so painful… moving became so impossible!
She left the room. He would not cause any problem, he just couldn't do anything and the man was watching the door.
He didn't know how much time she left, he had no time notion except for the sun. He was still cold but he was relaxed. This room would be a little piece of heaven he would bring back to his hell. She came back with another pale and quiet man. He looked old and had the same look she always had, the same indifference.
"He's been like that for several days, Doctor. I gave him what you've prescribed but nothing seems to work."
The doctor took a chair and sat next to him. He didn't react, he still couldn't anyway. He let the doctor examine him even if he was terrorized by his tools, the way he touched him and even his look. If death had a face, it would be him.
He lifted his shirt and frowned looking at her with a suspicious look.
"My sister was beating him, she abandoned him here and I took care of him."
Her sister? … Her protection? …
He desperately tried to find the doctor's eyes but he would never even look at him, he would never talk to him either. He was only talking to her with complete disregard.
So it was true… He was nothing… his existence had no meaning except for pain. A new lock was keeping him in his attic. His stared at nothing, the room wasn't even here anymore.
He looked at the window: a bird seemed to look at him. It just saved his soul when it was about to leave forever. The crow flew and he felt a sudden pain in his arm. He turned his head and saw that the old man had put a needle in it. The liquid flowing under his skin burnt him and he managed to moan to express his pain.
"It's for your own good, angel." She faked still looking at the doctor and hoping he wouldn't ask any more questions. Why would he anyway? He had the same heartless look on his face. He was just one more sick person to cure. It didn't matter he was covered with scars and wasn't speaking anymore.
The doctor stood up.
"To be efficient, you should take him to the hospital. It's probably a chronic bronchitis."
"Chronic? What does that mean?"
"It means he probably had severe lung infections before but they were not treated properly and his lungs are now very weakened. Each cold or infection could make him sick again, making him weaker and weaker each time."
"I can't afford to take him to the hospital." She whined "My husband left me with tons of debts and I have no health insurance anymore." She said with her eyes wet.
He sighed turning to the bed. "I'll prescribe him something. Keep him warm and make him eat well and if in two days it's not better you'll really need to take him to the hospital or his life will be severely threatened."
She brought her hand to her face faking distress "Oh my God!"
The doctor put his hand on her arm as a sign of comfort. "He's tough don't worry, he'll get through this."
They left the room leaving him alone. They talked about him ignoring him, no look, no gesture but he was right next to them suffering!
He coughed and felt like an iron taste in his mouth… he was spiting blood.
He stayed in this room only a few days, in the heat of the sheets he never left only to go to the bathroom, supported by this man who never looked at him and never talked to him without her to order it. She cured him without any attention, forcing him to swallow small white bitter pills each morning. Those pills were making him nauseous and dizzy.
The fever left, he coughed less and he was not spiting blood anymore. Those ten days would be the only days he would spend out of his attic kingdom. The quiet man brought him back in the eleventh day, on his bed with a cover. There were used sweaters on the table.
He felt sick again the following years but he would never leave his attic again.
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Missouri gave him his glass and put a small white pill on the table. He had to take it once a day but always refused to. She had to be very clever to trick him so he would actually swallow it without him to notice. She usually stood up sighing and crushed it in a glass of water, this was the only way he would take medication. She so wanted him to cooperate, it would mean he trusted her. But he never had. He wasn't even looking at her.
She remembered he violently attacked Garth when he tried to vaccinate him against tetanus. She never insisted again, more because she was scared he would hurt himself. Castiel never hurt her, he actually would never hurt anyone intentionally, he was flying from this monster haunting him. He was violent only when he was scared, fear was the only emotion he could express.
Castiel stood up and went to his window as usual. Each time he did this Missouri couldn't help being a little sad. Today she wouldn't receive anything from him, not even a single look, just his silence. For 4 months there had been no evolution, he just accepted their presence… at least it was a tiny victory. At least he found the strength to live which was a miracle for such a broken man.
She sighed and stood up "It a nice day today, don't you want to go out?"
He knocked his forehead on the window.
"Ok Castiel calm down I get it: you want to stay here. Alright it's your choice. See you tonight then." She said in a soft voice.
He stopped.
He was understanding and feeling everything and she knew it. He was just locked in his own prison and refused to let it go but he was not completely impervious to the world around him anyway. He was just protecting himself from what he lived and what he didn't want to live anymore because he knew it would destroy the few strength he finally found.
She couldn't blame him but couldn't stop hoping for someone to enter his prison and help him getting out or at least share it.
Why not breaking those walls?
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Dean woke up wincing, his whole body was sore from his last fighting and from his previous too long shower. He sat on the side of his bed and rubbed his face insisting on his eyes. He put some pants, sneakers and T-shirt on and quickly brushed his teeth, then he closed the door to his night full of nightmare.
He ate his breakfast quietly and alone. Garth walked by him with his plate and asked: "First day solo, is everything ok?"
Dean looked at him "Yeah it should be ok, Phil told me everything I had to know."
"Come to find me if you need anything."
"You wanna help me carrying my duster?"
Garth smiled "If it can help… well no kidding, sometimes patients can have strange reactions especially in this area and it can be confusing when you're not used to it."
He put his plate on the table and searched his pants pocket.
"You won't always know how to react when they have a panic attack or something… don't try anything stupid, there is no logic in them, at least not the same we have… just call a nurse or a caretaker it's our job. Do your job and we'll do our. No offense but it's not kindergarten here."
Dean nodded confirming he got the message without being offended. Garth gave him a piece of paper.
"This is today's planning."
"Thank you." Dean smiled.
"You're welcome. I'll give it to you each morning at breakfast and I'll tell Armand to do the same when I'm not here.
Dean smiled again.
"Have a good breakfast and don't forget my advice." He said going away.
He waved at him and Dean did the same finishing his cup of coffee.
He looked at the planning and the first thing he was surprised to search for was room 14 schedule. He realized it when his look was only searching for the name of Castiel. He didn't find it which meant he would be in his room all the time. He shook his head.
"What's wrong with me?"
He internally slapped himself and finished his breakfast.
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He went to the first floor's nurse office to get his keys and checked he hasn't forgotten the precious notepad. He pushed his supply cart with shaky legs and waited for the elevator with a growing apprehension. After all he heard by Garth and Phil he was a little more worried he'd want to.
Dean never had social skills so he couldn't imagine what would happen in company of a crazy or sick person in distress. He probably wouldn't know what to do. He looked at the planning again: he decided to clean the rooms when the patients would not be here if possible, it was the best thing to do. He breathed deeply when the third floor's gate opened.
First day and first statement: Phil was right, they were screaming already, he could hear them from the corridor. They were moaning or yelling insults through the doors. Dean shivered but typed the six numbers to open the gate.
He walked straight without looking at the nurses' office or Leyla Fredges office so he didn't see Missouri closing her eyes and starting to pray God for one last chance.
Dean started with the last rooms of the area. He couldn't look inside the rooms of screaming patients. Tomorrow he would certainly ask if he could use his MP3 player when he worked. He never liked this modern thing, he was sort of old school on some points, he preferred the old crackling radio cassette player of his Impala, but it would be better than listening to the shouts and moans. It was way too creepy!
He looked at the planning again: room 10, empty. The patient was in the day room with four others. Of course he would have to clean the day room too. He didn't go with Phil the day before because they were late, Phil told Mary who coldly replied it shouldn't happen again.
Dean felt his nervousness leaving as he was working. He was actually singing to focus on his job and not on the noises and he noticed it had a strange consequence: some of the patients calmed down and it was quieter. He could still hear some people moaning but no one was screaming anymore.
Room 14… Castiel turned his back to the window and looked at his room's door. He tilted his head and his face softened… he was listening to Dean singing.
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Sam was crying on his bed. Dean came in forcing a smile and went to him with a wet clothe in his hand. He gently put it on his injured eyebrow to clean the blood. He sat next to him on the bed when he felt his back hurt, bringing memories of the last beating.
When he was done he put the wet clothe on the nightstand and held his brother in his arms. Here in this old room where they were always hiding, he started to sing. It was clumsy at first but after a moment Sam let himself drown in his brother's voice.
He was singing "The River" by Bruce Springsteen.
Tears flowed down Sam's cheeks, he was touched about the vibrating and desperate voice of his brother.
Dean felt Sam relax and he noticed he was falling asleep. He kissed him on his forehead and fell asleep too.
Karen silently approached the bedroom, attracted by the sound of Dean's voice. She leaned against the wall and listened, her knees on her chest. She couldn't cry anymore. She looked at the door and then at her wrists: she could not end their pain and she could not end hers either. She hated her cowardice when the melody stopped. She stood up and glanced inside the room where Dean and Sam fell asleep in each other's arms.
"I'm sorry." She said without expecting an answer. She couldn't save them anyway.
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Dean approached Edward's room and sighed deeply. He looked inside, the schedule showed he would not be here at that time but he checked as he was told. He had to follow the rules for once.
When he opened the door the smell made him nauseous.
"Son of a bitch!" he said half disgusted and amused.
He tried to bring some fresh air as he did with Phil, and then he noticed Edward made an effort: he only painted one of the bathroom's walls this time. It would take time to clean all of that anyway.
On his way to leave the room he fell right in front of Edward coming back from his visit with the doctor, Armand was with him.
Dean was surprised, not because of this encounter but because of the age of the patient. No details were written on the schedule or on the notepad so he thought Edward would be older, but he looked like he wasn't more than 25. He was even elegant in his nice pants and shirt, he was looking sophisticated and pretentious at the same time.
He smiled at Dean and pulled a hair lock away from his forehead which made him look a bit feminine. Dean stepped back, his piercing look made him uncomfortable, and considering Armand's face he figured he was right to be careful.
He understood why the East and West quarters were so different. He never felt he was with sick or crazy people when he worked on the West area.
He left the room but felt Edward's look on him all the way. Armand followed and closed the door. Dean's face was showing he was not in ease.
"Be careful with him" Armand said.
"Why is he here?"
"He's a perv. He was arrested for pedophilia and declared irresponsible. He doesn't see what's wrong in his actions as they say. Don't tell anyone but…" he approached and whispered "they say he will never leave this place."
"Shouldn't he stay in a restricted room?" Dean worried.
"There's no free room left, and he comes from a very rich family." He said sarcastically. "They're part of the generous donors who make St Gerry live."
Dean looked at the door "He never attacked anyone here?"
"Yes he did. He tried with a young patient but nothing went wrong fortunately. We came right on time and since that day we never leave him alone with other patients."
Dean frowned "damn money… even here." There was disappointment in his voice, and some anger too. He thought about Sam who didn't have the chance to have a rich family to protect him from his madness. His job at the factory wouldn't have opened any posh hospital's door to cure him.
"Mary had no choice you know… you can't be angry at her for that. She sacrificed her moral for the well-being of all the patients here."
"A rich child among poor people… this is the height of absurdity."
"I personally see this as a form of justice." Armand corrected. "Alright I have to go now, my Liliana is waiting for me."
"Room 8?"
"Yeah you've met her?"
"You could say that… she stayed on her chair talking to herself all the time I was here."
"She's an autistic girl."
"Which means…?"
"She can't communicate with the outside world, but she accepts physical contact and that's why she's in this part of the East quarter. She doesn't have any violent reaction which is pretty rare among autistic people. She just lives in her bubble"
He was about to leave "Oh and by the way she doesn't speak to herself, she just repeats the same 10 words again and again, they have sense only for her. Now I really have to go I'm late."
"Thank you Armand. Bye." Dean said pushing his supply cart to next room.
It was almost 1 pm when Dean arrived near room 14. He had 2 more rooms to clean after this one so he decided to take a pause.
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He leaned on the Impala just to take the time to breathe and get some fresh air, a cup of coffee in his hands. He forced himself not to look up.
He looked down… what was happening to him? Why was he so confused about this patient? He just saw him a few minutes but when he met his eyes he felt he was falling in a black hole.
He was staring at the ground, playing with his shoes and he persuaded himself his past was just playing tricks as they had some common points, except he had people to help him and he had Sam.
He threw his coffee on the ground and came back inside.
Castiel never left his eyes from him, and for the very first time since he entered St Gerry Hall he dared doing something new: he lifted his hand and leaned it on the window.
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Dean met Suzanne in the lobby.
"Hi Dean!" she said smiling.
"Hi Suzie."
Suzanne was good looking despite her strange fifties look, she probably was a little younger than Dean. She was in training in St Gerry for 4 years as she was continuing to study at the same time. It was obvious she had a thing for Dean since they first met in the refectory the day after he arrived. It was also obvious Dean liked her but he was keeping his distance anyway. He didn't want to give her hope because there was no hope with him, and it would never have any. He was here for a few days and he would leave in a few months.
He had to keep his distance to keep her from getting hurt and maybe to keep him from being hurt too. He would hurt her he knew that, he wasn't able to share anything but pain and violence. He was scared about the rage sleeping in him, ready to wake up at any time, in a bed or in a cage.
He looked at Suzanne and her black hair… she was almost looking like Louise Brook. He looked at her big brown eyes and hated himself because he felt attracted to her. She came closer.
"I have to go I still have work to do." And he left without a look.
"Hey thanks for the help!"
"You're welcome!" he said already in the elevator.
"… my pleasure Dean…" she finished in a sigh.
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Dean took his supply cart back and looked at the planning. He would clean the last two rooms because they were with the occupational therapist. Actually he was just postponing what he was uncomfortable with.
At 2pm he went to the day room, there were 15 patients in it. He met Melvin the caretaker in charge.
"You should come back in 30 minutes, there will be 3 or 4 patients, it will be easier for you to clean and for me to watch. Is it ok?"
Dean nodded reluctantly… He had no other option, he had to go to room 14.
He stopped at the door and looked inside. He saw him standing at the window barefoot in his white pajamas… as usual.
"Ok let's go…" he said typing the code.
"Hi Cas!"
He froze when he saw him moving, just one step turning over. He acted like he ignored it but his whole body was tensed.
"Come on Dean control yourself… he's just another crazy man" he was repeating this line in his head, like a prayer.
He went to the bathroom and started to sing as he cleaned the mirror. It was another way, like the cage, to evacuate the tension. He was tempted to work as fast as he did the day before but he was paid to do the whole job so he had to control him.
He was singing a Jimmy Hendrix song as he was going back to the room
"Hey Joe, I said where you goin' with that gun in your hand"…
Castiel was standing right here next to him, staring at him and Dean froze like time had stopped.
End of chapter VI