Thread: Of Psychosis and Salvation

Red listened, although he didn't want to hear. There was pain in the shadow's voice. Pain that spiked more questions buzzing through his brain. No! He didn't want the shade to return.. No no no. Red couldn't make his lips move to tell him so. The feather-light fingers brushed over him again. His hair. The man shut his eyes tight. Sleep... Light... Oh, how he wanted light. The dark crawling in on him. He hated the darkness. And shadows. But he wasn't too sure how he felt towards this shadow, with his low, careful voice and whispered promises. Footsteps retreated. They always retreated. Red cracked an eye open. The door had not budged, but the man was gone. Alone. He bit his already wounded lip, tasting the iron that washed over his tongue. Questions. Questions. Maddening questions. He didn't stir but to close his eyes again, shivering in the cold air, his pillow and sheets forgotten. Finally, somewhere around midnight he drifted off into a uneasy sleep. ----- Blinding white. AHGAAAH! Fingers clenched in sheets as a bedraggled head of hair shot up from the bed, wild eyes whipping around the room, then squinting in pain. Red dropped his forehead back to the bed, slowing his breathing. Oh blessed light. Chasing the darkness away. Groaning, he sat upright, cursing up at the lights for betraying him and blinding him. There was a bang on the door that made him flinch, a gruff voice growling out some sort of order. Red's eyes flicked around in panic, before he scuttled to the far corner of his bed against the wall, watching the door with narrow eyes. It opened. A white coat. Ah, so the doctor had come calling... Red. Please have a seat. The monotone carried over to him, almost hurting his ears more than the banging on the metal had done. He shook his head. Evander... The doctor warned, the door opening a little further to reveal the guard accompanying him. You must be new. Red slid off the bed, sauntering over to the table in the middle of his room and sat in his chair. Grey eyes slid over the doctor. Using my alias won't earn you my cooperation, doctor. He placed his hands flat on the table, as was protocol. You know what they say about playing into your patient's fancies. The doctor shot him a cold look. Red smiled pleasantly back. Hold out your arm. They assigned you to me, because the other doctor refused. Am I right? Hold out your arm. But you... You wanted a raise. They offer you a lot of money to babysit me? The doctor gritted his teeth, gesturing to the guard outside. Oh, do I bother you? Not used to patients talking back, are you? No need for that. He held out his arm slowly, hiking up his shirt sleeve. The doctor crossed the room in a clipped stride, stopping beside Red and pressing cold, gloved fingers to his neck. He flinched. He hated the feeling of doctor fingers almost as much as the dark. A medical kit was set in front of him and opened. Red's eyes wandered over the contents. The doctor caught him looking, and pushed it farther out of his reach. Red sighed. A cold pad of alcohol was set against his arm, a glint of a needle flashing in the doctors fingers before he could fully look away. The pain was the same. Prick and then the fuzziness started to set in. His arm was wiped clean, the doctor the proceeded to check his ears and nose, his eyes, reflexes, as Red slipped slowly into a daze. His mouth was opened, a wooden tongue depressor inserted. The doctor frowned, angry blue eyes flicking up to Red's. Did you bring in contraband? Mhhh? Red asked, smiling stupidly. The wood was removed. Your breath smells like a cigarette. Where did you get it? Ohhh... He snickered, rubbing his head. It was fuzzy... A shadow brought it. Into my room. He shared it with me. A shadow. Yes. A man. A man with yellow eyes... He wasn't a doctor, or a guard, or a nurse... Red's laughing eyes rolled back up to the doctor's Say, doctor. How did he get in? The doctor's jaw tightened. Cigarettes are not allowed, Evander. I know... Red snorted, That's why it's so funny you let him in. The doctor scribbled something onto his clipboard, face set in stone. The young man's eyes followed, curious. What are you-? No, no I don't want pills. I'm not crazy. The guard was called in. It's time for your walk Evander. I-Im not... I- I.. Blue eyes shot him down with a cutting tone. There is no way to get past our security and into these cells, Evander. These are for permanent patients. No visitors. Ever. The man's conviction was absolute. Red shrunk back, his head spinning. A rough hand pulled him to his feet, dragging him towards the door. I'm not mad! I saw him- Touched him! He was real! He wa- Red was dragged down the hallway as he yelled back to the doctor who was searching his room. The man would find nothing. A walk. A haircut. A shower. Scrubbing his skin off. New clothes. All seen to by staff. All within the white building. It smelled of disinfectant. So sterile. No lovely flowers to sniff... He was thrown back into his room. By now the shot's effects had worn off, and Red was left to worry about what was to come. Pills. Horrible pills. No doubt, that evil, evil doctor... They dragged you away from your mind. Made you slobber. No, no, no... He paced. There was no sense of time, no way to see the sky, so when the lights shut off suddenly Red froze. His legs hurt from walking around his room for so long, but the wail was not one of pain. He stumbled blindly in the direction of his bed, bruising his shins against the frame before burrowing under the sheets. Only when the small yellow light flickered on did he stop shaking.