by Jacob Spadt
He was right; perhaps I was not taking the events seriously enough. I was having a hard time focusing on anything. All I wanted to do was sleep. At least then I was in control. Granted I found it very weird that the same dreams occurred every night...of being a mighty warrior fighting daemons. Still experiencing bouts of fatigue, I fought to keep my eyes from closing. It was harder than imagined. Jason stood up and moved over to the bed. Grabbing my shoulders he started to shake me, slowly at first, but the intensity built as his rage floodgates overflowed. I opened my eyes and glared at him.
"Better! You have a pulse now. I am the one strapped to a bed. You are free. Snap out of it." He let me go. I could see the fire burning in his eyes as clearly as looking upon a burning field. Emotions rolled off him in waves. It was intoxicating. Fear, anger, and adrenalin, all wrapped up inside him crying for release.
He breathed hard trying to rein it in. For some reason, I wanted him to snap. Something came from him. It felt like pressure. I could feel him...sense him. This feeling rolled right into me. After a small pause to ponder what this could be, the thought formed. It was energy...flowing off him in waves. The desire to jump out of the bed, atrophy and all, and fight him arose fast. Next thing I knew I had torn free off my bonds with ease. The material ripped and gave way. Some of the leather tore and stitched seams ruptured. My arms still had the straps wrapping around them, but my head and legs were completely free.
Jason backed up until he was at the door. He stared at me in horror. A long pause ensued before he began to bang on the door. I finished ripping the rest of the straps off and closed the distance with an effortless leap from the bed. Within two strides, I was on him. I grabbed his arms lifted him off the floor. He called for help, which surprised me. Drunk on his fear and leaning in close, a throaty growl escaped my lips.
He froze.
It still had not struck home yet that I had torn out of straps rated for someone four times my strength. Jason did not know the meaning of coward. He certainly did not run from a fight. I was rather surprised that he had backed away from me. Let alone asked for help. The fact that I held him off the floor completely escaped me.
I looked at him eye to level for several seconds before I heard myself whisper “Sorry.” Deep inside me, calm trickled over me. The rage began to subside. My arms suddenly weakened, so I lowered him, expecting to see his height difference. It never came. His feet were the floor so he was standing. Over the top of his head, the picture on the wall was in full view. My gaze looked down on him for the first time in my life. Somehow I was taller.
A surprised look...one of fear...crossed Jason’s face. His weight shifted as though he would attack me. Then the door opened and a sea of orderlies covered me, all too eager to get some payback. Onto the bed, I was tossed. They added new restraints and replaced the old ones. There was no fighting. Something told me I would hurt them with further resistance. With the inner rage on overload, the desire to rip arms out of their socket was overwhelming.
To my surprise, I controlled it.
They were none too gentle with the straps either. It felt like a vice grip held me everywhere. I just lay there fighting to control the rage boiling in the depths of my soul. Once restrained, many fists struck my stomach followed by mutterings of "this is for so and so" or "That was for what you did to blah…blah…blah." The words fell on deaf ears.
I knew that somehow I could kill all of them without breaking a sweat. It was tantalizing. Shamed followed the thoughts. These men were scared, pure and simple. Their job was to deal with people like me. I did not intend to make their lives harder especially by hurting them. It was curious, that after they had hit me, the pain went away rather fast. A pinch in my arm told me the doctor had arrived. It was the scary woman, but her touch was gentle. I had managed a glance at her before they fixed my head in place. Whatever they administered was stronger than before. It blurred my vision fast but leveled off fast.
Strapped in once again...this was getting old.
Someone told Jason to go home. He was out in the hall cursing over what had just happened. The thought of punching him in the face made me slightly happy. He needed a wakeup call. This had to give it to him. It was not my desire to hurt him, but he acted like a spineless human with no opinion...incapable of making a decision. He was not the one tied down; he did not lose his family, nor was he the one torn to ribbons by some unseen force. Yet he crippled emotionally.
The drug rolled through my veins. The sluggishness that accompanied was not as strong for hitting me so fast. I tried to focus my mind to fight it. I tried to find a focus point to begin my resistance when a voice spoke.
“Keep this up Dieter, and you are going to be permanent here.” The shrink had arrived. These people were too predictable. It had been a few weeks since I had seen him. One of the orderlies mentioned something about a trip, and then he was gone. Apparently that was the case and he had returned. He never did tell me where, but I can guess it had to do with science and my case.
“I hear you were a bad boy, Dieter. Violence will not get you out of here. Showing to me you can function in society will, however, help your case.”
The door closed, trapping me with him. Out of the corner of my eye, he passed by me to grab the chair. It screeched horribly as it drug across the floor. He set his stack of files on top of me while he fumbled for a pen. I gave a small grunt. He left them there while he began to scribble something down. I could hear the scrawling of the pen. He stunk of spent nicotine and coffee.
Did these people not get it that people who do not smoke do not want to smell the aftermath either? I thought. But they never cared, none of them ever do.
“This rage you seem to be experiencing. Tell me what you think about when it happens,” he said.
I laughed.
“This isn’t a joke, Dieter. You have a serious issue here. The fact that you tore out of the restraints shows a lack of willingness to cooperate as well as the desire to do others harm, not to mention you’re too damn strong for your own good. Do you think we can afford to risk the lives of our employees? Behavior like this could get you in much bigger trouble. And you lack the will power to maintain your emotions.”
He had a point. I sighed.
“I do not feel or hear anything. There is no pain or anger. Something just takes over. Do you think I would give in to it if I could control it? You know about my childhood. It was calm and serene aside from an abusive stepfather that did not care if I lived or died, and a mother that chose him over her child. There may or may not be anger issues over it, but that has been dealt with in whatever way possible as a young adult. Jason was part of that sanity. He was my only and best friend. Is there rage stemming from that? Is it my body’s way of dealing with this nightmare? You tell me!"
His eyes got big. He indeed knew about what had happened to me, but I think he just connected the dots in his head and the gears began turning in his mind. My interest in this meeting had waned an hour earlier, and I hoped sleep would take me with my eyes open. He droned on about my self-control. I proclaimed to not know why the reactions happened the way they did. My suspicions existed; none of the made sense.
The more I tried to relax and listen, the angrier things made me. None of this was my fault. They found me guilty like a criminal. Restraining me was a bad idea...they were threatening to throw away the key.
Respect kept me silent. Now was not the time. I had to play their game to be able to leave, but to where? With no place to retreat to my options were null. I knew that the state would take my parents’ house to pay their bills. It happened when my grandparents died; very little remained. It was really quite sad.
My mind snapped back to the present. He continued speaking about working through feelings of anger. I finally closed my eyes and gave into the drugs. It felt funny that he shot me up then talked me to sleep. It worked. My reality shifted into dreamland almost immediately.
A fight.
A claw came right at my head as I
ducked and thrust my weapon to meet its exposed rib cage, and a shower of ichor rewarded me. Somehow I knew that sleep had just taken me and glanced behind instinctively. It looked as though a portal to the previous room had closed. Yanking my sword free, I looked passed the beast as he slid free of my blade in a heap and fell the ground. It was a valley filled with rocks and corpses. Light flickered as if something passed in front of it repeatedly. I shielded my eyes for a moment and saw a whole host in flight heading right towards me.
The terrain around me was hostile and lots of misshapen rocky crags jutted out in all directions. Sure footing did not exist. Every step was laborious. Blood flowed down my shins from the dozens of times I stumbled. I did not even know where I was going.
Looking behind, my eyes caught the sky darkened with the approach of this mass of flying creatures. With no stable ground on which to fight, my options were few. An idea hit me suddenly, and my swords flashed out wide and in a spinning arc. Shards flew in all directions in an array of sparks and debris as my swords cut down the rough stone. Continuing to spin, I carved the stones down quickly. Moments passed. Around me was a place to stand. Glancing over my shoulder, I slowly turned to face the onslaught.
The flying horde approached without form. I could not gage how far out the main host was, but enough of them were not with the main group and would arrive in mere moments. I re-postured myself and felt warmth wash over me, emanating from my core, and then rolling outward. My limbs did not feel heavy. Blood no longer flowed from my legs. To my astonishment, my legs had healed themselves! It was a curious sensation. I quickly glanced down at my legs as a gentle blue glow faded. I felt my weight shift again, and the tip of the horde approached and flew within range of my blades. My arm swung.
I smiled. They were all about to die.
XXV
Changes
The pain was excruciating.
Fire head to toe, burned as if the very fiber of my being was tore from its roots and held over an open flame. Body convulsions tore at me. Lying flat on the bed was not possible. My back kept arcing to the point it felt like I would snap my own spine. I screamed. I finally gave in and let out a sob. I could not take much more.
I did not hear the key in the door, but several individuals entered the room. Their panicked voices were unintelligible with the exception of the occasional curse or metaphor for what was happening. Was my life's canvas now black? At one point, I called out to God to save me but there was no reply or release from the pain. Occasionally something in my arm, unlike the fire burning my core, provided momentary relief. I could not even form a cognitive thought amidst the madness. Every second felt like an hour. When would it end?
I must have blacked out at some point or perhaps they found a drug that made me sleep. My thoughts drifted, but it was not sleep. Everything felt strange beyond comparison to anything previously experienced. I remembered falling out of the tree outside my window once. If you have ever played pinball you would understand my experience with the fir tree. Near the top the branches were thin. You do not think about this as a kid, especially when it is a place treaded before. You get heavier as you grow. I enjoyed being up high in trees, sometimes just because they were there...other times to get away and think. I do not recall which reason had me up in this hundred-foot tree that day. There was a sickening crack and gravity did its job. It was a solid memory.
By my guess, I hit every branch on the way down. The bruises covering my body supported the theory. I was tender for days after. An hour passed with me doing a systems check before getting up. Having fallen out of trees before, the day took my desire to climb right out of me. In fact, I do not think I ever climbed another tree in that fashion again.
That event did not even come close to what I felt when awakened. My mind attributed that tree experience to a diminished version of what overloaded my senses. My head was not as constricted this time, but the leather shackles remained in place. There was a little more play but just an inch or so. The sheets were soaked. I felt the same sensation like before when I awoke from the coma.
My muscles hurt and my bones felt like they were out of place in every possible way. I tried slowly moving parts of my body and felt shooting pains firing off in all directions. My facial muscles locked in a frozen expression of pain. A beeping sound came from my left in the distance that sounded like it might some sort of monitor. The slow rhythmic beat lulled me in for a moment and reminded me of a song from a long time ago where the drum was actually a heartbeat. I had always thought that was a cool idea. The name of the song escaped me. It really did not matter though, my head felt so foggy. My mind floated.
Was it some sort of painkiller?
Although it was difficult to reason right now, I thought about what was happening and came up with a few conclusions amidst the fog banks in my mind. First, the attacks returned and this is what it felt like when conscious. Second, it was a result of all the damage finally catching up to my nervous system. I could not imagine it could all hit me at once like this, but I was open to suggestions in my semi cognitive state. The third idea was that I was in Hell.
I flexed my hands and feet a few times and felt the muscles protest and cramp up as if they had been in cold weather too long. The cramps became so intense that it felt like the tendon wanted tear away from the bone. Deep breaths helped me relax a little. They eventually went away but took several more minutes. A strange noise hit my ears, like ear drums popping at high altitude followed by a high-pitched whine. I raised my head and panned the room with my eyes half open. It took me a moment to see that I was not in a room in the psych ward now, but some dark place instead. It smelled horrible.
I gagged for a moment and felt bile hit my throat. The burning sensation followed. Spit took forever to accumulate to chase it down...it was then I realized there was a hose hanging close to my head. I did not smell any foulness to it and its position was accessible...water...a small kindness and very appreciated.
I managed to get my lips around it and began to suck as hard as my weakened state would allow. Thankfully it was water. Several minutes passed of drinking before things felt better and diminished the burning in my throat. The water was cool but kind of stagnant. I began to cough a little bit from the after taste. It then hit me that I could raise my head. Most of the times when sedated it was not possible because they fully strapped me in. It was very odd that I was not in “full nut bar kit” as nurses called it. There was no catheter or diaper of any sort on me.
The high pitch sounded again catching my attention. It sounded like some sort of power tool but was hard to say since I was not exactly adept at picking the sounds out that power tools made. It finally stopped after several minutes. My head was still pounding when it finally stopped so I called out.
“Hello?” I cracked.
Silence
I waited another few minutes and called out again. A bit more volume came out this time. My destroyed voice sounded horrible to me so I could imagine the sound it must have been making did not sound human at all.
“Anybody there? Orderly? Doctor Price? Anyone?” A clatter, something metal hitting something, echoed from outside the door. The handle turned and it swung wide. A man came in about a step wearing a plastic facemask swung up from his face. He had on an apron covered with blood. I smelled the crimson scent, it hit me right in the forehead like a sledgehammer, and my breathing quickened.
A squeaky voice assaulted my eardrums. It was so annoying I just wanted to get up and punch him so he could not speak again…ever. I was having a hard time processing the words when he spoke again.
“Holy shit! Who the hell are you and what are you doing down here?” I noticed a look of fear on his face.
“What do you mean down here?” I managed to say before my voice cracked.
“The morgue. Why are you in this room?”
My smart-ass humor really was pulling to the surface right now. I decided to be sort of nice. “Do I look like I have any sort of say in the
matter?” There was a long pause.
“Yes?” came the timid answer. I lost my patience.
“Are you kidding me?” I wanted to start cussing him out but knew it would not help the situation.
“No sir I am not. I am the mortician. Please don’t hurt me.”
I raised my head and looked at him. He was actually shaking. “Do I look like I could hurt you? I am a scrawny little kid.”
Silence again.
“Whatever you say.” His voice shook.
That was a strange answer. While staring at him I noticed my feet hung off the bed buy a foot, probably more and just out into the air. My eyes panned up to my thighs and must have gotten big because he was starting to cower now and backed up. An attempt to raise myself up met resistance from the straps across my chest holding me down. This was finally enough. I raised my arm a little and felt the restrains as well, but I could see enough. My forearm looked distorted. I blinked my eyes and shook my head. This has got to be an illusion. I reopened my eyes and looked again. It was still blurry.
I looked him in the eyes. “Take this off…now!”
He shook his head no. I dropped my head back to the pillow. A throaty growl escaped my lips and I stopped for a second; it did not sound normal, let alone human. The door creaked and I looked up. He was gone and more shuffling was coming from down the hall as he apparently left the other room too. Anger was building. The rage swelled inside. My boiler was about to blow. I was tired of doctors and their tests. This was the last straw! They had me so pumped full of drugs that my eyes did not even work right, and now some little imp of a man would not let me go. On top of that they had me on some bed that was for a child. The intensity reached a crescendo and my body started to shake. The adrenaline hit. My arms tested the limits of the straps and I started to pull at them.
Something snapped and my arm moved a little. Not caring, I busted apart the restraints as they flexed again. I was spinning out of control fast and just wanted to hit something. The blood on the apron from moments before fueled the burn, and for some reason it made me want to hit something even more. Another snap gave me more movement. I did not care. My voice echoed through the room as everything flexed and pulled. My days as a lab rat were over.