A/N:

I'll just let you all know from the get-go that a lot in this chapter was inspired by the movie 'Changeling' in case you get a sense of familiarity. Naturally, I haven't just lifted the conversation, but twisted it into this new version that fits Alice's story.

Title: Origins: Living in my Future

Author: MarieCarro

Beta: Alice's White Rabbit

Pre-reader: BitterHarpy

Genre: Supernatural/Mystery

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Mary Alice Brandon had always been different. She seemed to know things that had yet to happen, and the people in town avoided her at all costs. But the cries of "Witch" or whispers of "Changeling" weren't her biggest concern. Someone much closer to her than the townsfolk couldn't accept her differences, and it put her in life-threatening danger.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


CHAPTER 6

SUNDAY AFTERNOON, FEBRUARY 15th 1920

The echoing sound of a heavy, metal lock being opened startled me awake, and I was momentarily confused about my surroundings. The pillow under my head was surprisingly soft, and it made me believe I was at home until the scratchy fabric of the gown I was wearing and my aching back reminded me where I actually was.

The cot that was supposed to be a bed was painfully hard, but in the early morning hours, I'd been too exhausted to keep my eyes open any longer.

One orderly and the same nurse from earlier came inside the cramped room, and I instinctively hid the small piece of paper Micah had given me. I didn't want to risk them finding it and throwing it away.

"Miss Brandon," the nurse said. "The doctor is waiting for you in his office. Follow me."

Lethargically and with a churning stomach—I hadn't eaten anything since dinner the night before and judging from the light in the room, I'd slept through both breakfast and lunch—I sat up and wiped the grime out of my eyes as the orderly handed me a pile of fabric that turned out to be some sort of robe. I was actually a little happy for the chance to cover my bare arms and gain just the tiniest bit of warmth, even though the robe was stiff with starch.

I was shepherded toward a door at the end of the seemingly endless corridor, which was lifeless and void of any color. I passed door after door. Some of them closed and locked to hold the patients—all women of different ages—inside and subdued; others were open and several patients were wandering around.

Automatically, I tightened the robe around me as if to protect myself from the patients even though Micah had told me most of the patients in the facility were like me and not at all insane. Maybe it was the condition they were in that scared me. Their hair was in tangles, their clothes were dirty, and so many of them appeared to have no life left in their eyes.

The nurse in front of me stopped and knocked on the door.

"Come in!"

Without a word, she opened the door, and I took in the appearance of the nondescript, balding man standing behind his desk.

"Miss Mary Alice Brandon," the nurse presented, and the male orderly forced me inside the room. When I looked over my shoulder, preparing to give him an angry remark about how I could have walked inside on my own, the predatory gleam in his eyes stopped me short, and I didn't say anything. It was as if he wanted an excuse to punish me. It made shivers go down my spine.

The doctor looked up from the papers in his hand, and I instantly hated his analytical expression. It was lacking all warmth and was too calculating for comfort as he looked me up and down. He hummed to himself as if he hadn't expected anything else about my appearance, and I had to suppress my grimace.

"Thank you, Nurse Gibson." The door closed behind me with an almost sinister thud as the nurse and orderly left, and the doctor gestured for me to sit down on the opposite side of his desk. "Miss Brandon. I'm Dr. Wright. You were brought here early this morning before I was here. It's unfortunate we didn't get to meet then. I hope your stay has been comfortable thus far."

Despite Micah's words, I wanted to believe this doctor's conclusion after this conversation would determine my fate, but I had no idea what he wanted me to say in order to prove I was completely sane.

The hours I'd already spent at the hospital had been horrible, but my upbringing had taught me to always be polite even if that meant lies had to pass my lips. Dr. Wright knew, without a doubt, the conditions in which I'd spent the day, so I chose my words carefully.

"It was … different than what I'm used to but comfortable enough. The pillows are very soft." I was satisfied with that answer. I clearly stated there was nothing wrong with the physical accommodations such as the pillows, but the surroundings and atmosphere were less pleasant.

Dr. Wright's cold eyes locked with mine. "Most people would find this whole situation very difficult and distressing, yet you were able to appreciate the softness of our pillows?" He hummed and wrote something down in the folder in front of him.

"It was distressin'," I insisted, hoping he'd realize I'd softened my words deliberately to remain polite and that he'd write I was as normal as any other Mississippi girl. "The woman I shared rooms with wouldn't stop cryin', so concentratin' on the pillow was the best I could do to shut out the sounds ..." My words trailed off as Dr. Wright made another note.

"You listened to this woman crying and you didn't once try to comfort her?" he asked. "Didn't you feel sorry for her?" He laid his pen down and clasped his hands together. "Miss Brandon, have you struggled with a lack of empathy for an extended period of time?"

I was shocked into silence by his sudden twist of words, and I shook my head. I couldn't follow his train of thought and it scared me. "No, I—"

"They did a lot of tests on you when you arrived," he said, effectively interrupting me, and looked back at the folder, reading the documents. "How did that make you feel?"

My mind was reeling with his quick changes of subject, but I did my best to give him a satisfying reply. "The nurses told me it was standard procedure. To make sure I wouldn't bring in any contagious diseases."

"Yes, exactly. Now, the idea that someone would think a young woman such as yourself, with your family's standing in society, needed to be checked for contagious diseases, does that upset you?"

The inside of my mouth was suddenly as dry as I imagined a desert was. No matter what I said, this man turned my words against me and made me sound insane even to myself. "Uhh, no. I-I understood why they had to do that."

Dr. Wright grimaced, made that uncomfortable humming sound again, and held up the folder to read again. "According to the marshal who brought you here, you think your parents want to kill you."

"No, I didn't say that," I hurried to say. Even though the underlying meaning had been the same, I needed to make the doctor aware of where my suspicions originated. "I said my mother was murdered on my father's orders, and because I know he was behind it, he sent me here to protect himself."

"But I have an article here that says your mother passed in a tragic automobile accident," Dr. Wright said and pulled a cutout from the folder, holding it up for me to see. I turned my head away. I didn't need to see the wreck that used to be our family's car. That image was forever imprinted into my mind. "Lillian Brandon … that was your mother's name wasn't it?"

"Yes," I answered, still with my head turned away.

He took a deep breath as he read the article. "It says here it was raining that night and the wheels lost traction on the road, causing Mrs. Brandon to lose control of the vehicle. How does that make your father responsible for her death?"

"His associate ran her off the road," I said, clearly putting emphasis on the strange man in my vision. I wanted to tell him what I'd seen in my dreams, but if he didn't already believe I was insane, he would then.

"How do you know that?"

Because I saw it. "I just do."

Dr. Wright gave me an incredulous look. "You just do? Miss Brandon, has this been going on for long? Periods of time when you experience crippling paranoia? Lying to cope with the loss of your mother? People becoming villains who are out to get you?"

"I'm not paranoid. I know what I saw."

"You mean you witnessed this 'associate' forcing your mother off the road?"

"Not in the way you think," I said, my voice shaking. I was at a loss for words. How could I possible explain this?

With the use of his right hand, Dr. Wright massaged his temple. "Miss Brandon, you're constantly changing your story. How am I supposed to help you if you won't tell me the truth?"

The note! I could tell him about the note pushed under our door threatening Father unless he paid. "I am! I just—"

He shushed me and held up his hand to stop me. "Let's stay with the truth only. Your father, he's not trying to kill you?"

"No, it wasn't him I s—"

"That's right. He's not," Dr. Wright said, interrupting me again. "Your father sent you here to protect you. To keep you from harming yourself and others."

"But I—"

"Well, didn't he?"

I gaped silently. If I continued to insist my father had paid for my mother's murder and had sent me here to protect himself, I'd never get out because Dr. Wright had already decided those were lies. Maybe my only chance was to comply with them? "Maybe," I said weakly. "I … I don't know."

"Maybe?"

Micah was right. A lump formed in my throat, and I croaked out a barely audible agreement. "Yes."

"Yes?" He sighed. "I have to say, Miss Brandon, I find all of this particularly odd. When you were admitted, you told Nurse Gibson your father and stepmother were conspiring against you because you stood in their way, but now you say the opposite. So, either Nurse Gibson and the marshal, as well as the interns, are also conspiring against you, or you're changing your story. Tell me, do you often have trouble telling reality from fantasy, Miss Brandon?"

I shook my head. I didn't understand what was happening. "No, I know what's real," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "And there's nothing wrong with me." I was repeating myself but I was at a loss on what I could otherwise do.

"There's nothing wrong with you," Dr. Wright repeated, but not as a question. It sounded as if he finally agreed with me, and I stared at him in shock.

Then, a small, relieved smile broke out across my face. He believed me! "No, there's nothing wrong."

He nodded and gave me a half-shrug. "You're fine."

"Yes, I am."

He inhaled deeply, and then stood up to walk toward one of his cabinets. He produced a paper and placed it in front of me. "Well, then you shouldn't have any trouble signing this."

"What is it?" I asked and started eying the document, but there was a lot of text and words I didn't fully understand because it was clearly written by a lawyer.

"By signing it, you certify that you were wrong when you stated your parents conspired to have you killed. It further stipulates that your father was right about your delusions and in sending you here for observation and to protect you from harm." He offered me a pen. "Sign it."

I looked from the pen, to Dr. Wright, and back at the document. "I won't sign that," I breathed out and stood up to back away from the doctor. He was in on it. He knew I was telling the truth, but Father had convinced him as well. "I won't sign that," I said again much stronger.

Dr. Wright allowed his hand with the offered pen to fall to his side and he went back around his desk. "Then I'm afraid you'll stay here for the unforeseeable future for treatment and further observation. Sign it and your care will be transferred to a hospital closer to Biloxi and you can reside at home."

"B-but I'm not wrong!" I cried, my voice climbing even though I tried to control it. It was futile. "I know my father ordered my mother's death! That's why I'm here! I know it!"

"How do you know it?" Dr. Wright locked his eyes with mine. His were harsh and unyielding.

My head was pounding again, and I buried my face in my hands to try and shut out the room before me, which was starting to blur. "I just do!" I exclaimed and crouched down on the floor. Something was building behind my eyes. I was convinced it was a vision, but they'd never felt painful before.

"Miss Brandon, you're becoming agitated." I didn't see him cross the room, but I heard him open his office door. "Orderly!"

"Yes, I'm—yes!" I agreed and squeezed the sides of my head. I opened my eyes and stared at Dr. Wright. "I'm not signin' that because I'm not lyin' and I'm not crazy!"

The scalding look Dr. Wright gave me made me whimper. "We don't use that term here, Miss Brandon," he admonished and let the orderly into the office.

It was the same orderly from before with the predatory eyes.

My building vision demanded I let go of the small control I had of it, but I had to get what I wanted to say out before I did. "My father wants me dead!"

"The patient is becoming hysterical," Dr. Wright told the orderly. "See to it she is sedated properly and locked in her room."

The orderly strode toward me.

"No!" I cried. "I know my father wants me dead!" I insisted even as the orderly forced me onto my feet and started dragging me out of the office. "I saw it! I saw it!" I tried to fight him off but he was bigger than me, and his grip on my arms was tight. It hurt and would most definitely leave bruises, but I was too distressed to care about that. "Please, listen to me!"

My feet slid on the blank floor as the orderly tried to control where we were going, but I wasn't having it. I needed to make the doctor listen. He had to understand.

But suddenly, I was forced down on the floor and two more orderlies assisted the one already holding me, and they grabbed my arms and feet.

"Stop, please! Let me go," I begged. "I'm not lyin'!" I was slowly becoming aware of the scene I was making, and the women who'd been out of their rooms were all looking at me with terror written on their faces. Some of them were crying and others were just staring with their hands over their mouths.

Nurse Gibson appeared over me, and she forced my mouth open before putting two pills inside. I wanted to spit them out, but before I had the chance, she closed my mouth and pinched my nose to prevent me from taking a breath. I had no choice but to swallow.

When my limbs went numb, it wasn't because of the pills. I lost the fight I had with my vision, and I was engulfed by it.

It was a vision of Nurse Gibson being handed a document by Dr. Wright to place in a folder and walk away. It was the document that was frightening because I could see it as if I were reading it myself. Every single letter and line of it.

Recommendation and approval for Vasectomy or Salpingectomy for the purpose of sterilization

Name: Mary Alice Brandon

Institute: Mississippi State Insane Hospital

This patient is afflicted with:

Mental disease which may have been inherited and is likely to be transmitted to descendants.

After careful consideration of the case of Miss Mary Alice Brandon by the members of the Medical Staff of this institution, it is their belief that this patient is suffering from the affliction above noted and it is their recommendation that the operation for the purpose of sterilization be performed, with which opinion and recommendation I concur and do hereby request your approval.

Approved and authorization for an operation for a sterilization granted this 20th day of February 1920.

The vision dissipated, and the last thing I remembered before the medication I'd been force-fed pulled me under was throwing up violently.


A/N:

Do you know what's really disturbing? I knew forced sterilization was a thing in asylums back in the day, but I found a legit document where a mother consented to her daughter being sterilized because she was "weak-minded" and it was from that document I lifted the above text.

Shudder

And yes, I truly believe this is what they would have done to Alice. It was a common enough practice, and even though it's not mentioned in the chapter, it was Edgar who consented to the sterilization in the authority of being her father.

So, thoughts?

Rage all you want!

Until next time,

Stay Awesome!