Chapter Four
Forty five hallways and not a peep out of me later, we arrived at two very large double doors which were also white, just like everything else in this forsaken place. I was exhausted from the long walk, but also quite bored from staring at the blue haired man's hunched up back all the way to the doors. He had stuffed his hands into his pockets when we had began walking again, throwing his shoulders forward like he was angry.
Of course, a guy that arrogant would be have to be angry to have been somewhat bested by a seventeen year old.
The doors swung open without a sound as we neared them, which was a little creepy. The only places doors were supposed to open automatically were supermarkets and possibly hospitals. It wasn't okay anywhere else. It wouldn't make much sense anywhere else.
But what was making sense today?
My stomach began to feel heavy once the doors sprang open. Uneasiness crept in and settled down into my bones, and by the time it was time to pass through the door I didn't want to go. There was something or someone in that room that I didn't want to face; my minute sense of self preservation told me that.
I stopped walking as the blue haired man entered the room. I didn't want to follow him; I thought it was like he was leading a lamb to slaughter. Although I'm not really calling myself a lamb per say—if I was going to call myself anything, it would have to be some kind of ferocious thing or something. Not like a lion or anything, I'm not that ferocious, definitely something smaller and a little less wicked, like a snapping turtle or something.
Yes. A snapping turtle would work.
For a moment, I thought about turning around—about going back to the room I woke up in, about slamming my head into a wall to see if I could get myself out of this mental break, about swallowing another dose of my medication.
Before I could make my decision, I was pulled forward. Letting out a startled squeak, I looked around wildly to see the man with the funny hat with a death grip on my arm. My other hand immediately went to my neck where I had been held off of the ground earlier, frightened that he would attempt to do so again.
The blue haired man stood off to his side, his hands still inside of his pockets. "Inside," he growled. "Now." I wanted to tell him no. I wanted to scream, to run away, even to slap him in the face. But I was afraid—not of him, but of the man in the funny hat. He had hurt me before, and he was hurting me now. Who was to say it wouldn't get any worse?
My arm was jerked forward, my body following at a shuddering pace as I was forced to move my feet. Against my will, I half hobbled and was half dragged into the room through the creepy, automatic doors.
Like everything else I had seen thus far of the location, the entire room was white. At least, the floor was. I was too busy staring at the ground, trying to place my feet so that I wouldn't wind up tripping at any point. I had great balance for the most part, save for when I was being forcefully directed in a location I was unfamiliar with.
I didn't bother to protest to the rough handling I was being put under because it would likely have been pointless, just as attempting to run from them earlier had been a waste of effort.
I was released in a rude manner, falling to the ground flailing in an attempt to regain my balance. My knees hit the floor before the rest of me, causing me to fall forward onto my face and my vision to go quite hazy. My arm where the funny hatted man had held it ached painfully, but my face was starting to hurt worse.
Out of spite, I showed no inclination to get up. I rolled onto my right side a little, if only to relieve the pressure off of my nose, which I was positive was bleeding and would have been very surprised if it wasn't—I couldn't be sure because my face was numb.
If this was an asylum, it sure sucked more than I thought it would.
"I thought I told you not to physically harm her." This voice was definitely new, and definitely outside of my own head. There was something about, something cold and intimidating that nearly sent a shudder down my spine. I stayed on the ground rather than standing to see who was speaking, trying to refocus my eyes. It was a battle I was losing miserably as blood pooled from my nose into my mouth, sparking my taste buds with the metallic tang.
"I didn't touch her. She physically harmed herself." That was the blue haired man, his voice a little smug.
"The rough handling on the way in was...?" The other man—not the man with the funny hat, I was sure—was baiting the blue haired one. I could hear it plain as day, almost as if he were trying to get the blue haired one to incriminate himself.
"Obviously not me." Pause. "You said I couldn't physically harm her, Aizen-sama. You didn't say anything about anyone else touching her."
"Nevertheless, Grimmjow, I would have preferred her of both sound mind and body." I couldn't help myself—I laughed out loud, the sudden, abrupt noise echoing through the cold room. The blood that had been pooling in my mouth spilled out slowly, leaving a rather awful aftertaste. I sound like a bloody lunatic, I thought as the echos reached my ears.
Wait a second. I am a bloody lunatic.
"Sound mind?" I asked, still laughing a bit as I sat up and looked towards the front of the room. "You're a few years too late for a sound mind. I don't think I even had one to begin with." With the back of my hand, I wiped my nose. It came away with blood smeared across it, and I grimaced. Bloody noses were not my favorite thing to receive while wearing a white t-shirt. "I mean, this is all a hallucination. None of this is actually happening." I stood up, careful not to slip in the small puddle of blood that had formed.
"This is not one of your schizophrenic hallucinations, Kaori. This is real." In the very front of the white room sits a man, elevated on a dais—or was it a throne? I was never good with those things—and dressed in white. From the expanse of distance between him and I, all I can tell is that his hair is brown.
I stared at him for a good, long moment. "For all I know, you really could be one of my hallucinations just telling me that all of this is real when it's just that—a hallucination. I could come out of it in a blink, turn up in my own house, in the market, in an asylum because this. Is. A. Figment. Of. My. Mind."
The man tilted his head slightly. At least, I think he did. Blood from my nose was still running freely down my face and dripping into the puddle that was slowly turning into a pool. I was sure that some of it was going to drip onto my t-shirt and stain it, but I could always have Mom get me a new one.
"You've never been out of your normal surroundings in one of your schizophrenic hallucinations." He didn't ask it—it was a fact. Before I had been diagnosed and started on my medication, I had only ever 'seen' one person, but it was always in the location that I had been in. I had never had a hallucination where I was not only seeing more than the one person—not that he was here, mind you—but it was always in the location that I had been in at that time, be it in my room, or at school, or anywhere else I might have been.
"I need a higher dosage, that's all," I retorted, subconsciously checking the 'x's on my left wrist. "I come out of this, I go see my psychiatrist, I get a higher dosage, all of this goes away and I'll be good as new again." Well, as 'new' as I could be. I'd still be unable to live on my own in society, but I'd rather take that over all of this madness any day.
There was silence for a moment, and I could feel more pairs of eyes on me than the brown haired man's. It was like I was being stared at from all sides of the room, like there was almost no escape.
"You're rather rational for a schizophrenic, Kaori. Abnormally so." I hated that word. Schizophrenic. Some people threw it around like it was a fun disease, claiming to have it because they think it would be 'cool'; others spit it out like it's poison, like it's an infectious disease that will cling to them and make them schizophrenic too. I've never referred to my condition for what it is because I hate the word and all of the connotations with it.
"Well, some of us can be rational while still being inflicted. It's a little more rare, but there's a few cases of it." I licked my lips and nearly instantly regretted it as the tangy taste of blood filled my mouth again.
"But none are as rational as you."
I puffed out my cheeks before heaving a sigh. "Do you, like, study my condition or something?" Although, honestly, I'd never met a psychiatrist who decided to elevate himself above patients and meet them in a cavernous white room before.
"You could say that I only study your case, Kaori, and I can say with certainty that you don't have what you think you have."
I am so sorry that this took so long! I didn't mean it, but I was on vacation, and then I was a nervous wreck, and then when all of that was over I just couldn't bring myself to stay off of Tumblr and stop watching the Olympics and finish this chapter. It's finished now, although not as long as it should be. For such a lazy person, I do have a lot of excuses. Hopefully, the next one should be up a lot quicker. If it's not, you all have permission to poke me with cattle prods.