The thud against the tub launched me into a cavernous, enflamed hell.
Firestorms spread and singe at my skin as the heated sand beneath me jolts me to my feet. Dense, maroon waves crash against the barren shore. The rust-colored sky burns above me.
“Bitch, you will never be free—never,” Kate’s snarl rumbles around me as lightning blazes above me. A vicious crackle whips through the atmosphere that renders me temporarily deaf.
Again, Kate speaks to me. My hearing returns just as she says, “…I’ll be inside of you until you die.” Her flame pupils flicker in their sockets while blood drips from her skin.
I’m naked and helpless, in my own personal hell. How will I survive this?
“Tsk…tsk. Why bother to even ponder how you will survive this?” she taunts before she laughs at my expense. Kate stalks toward me until she has closed the distance between us. I’m petrified as shock overcomes me while she shoves her elongated, reptile-like tongue down my throat. I’m feeble and fused with the sand as her hands violate every inch of me. An unseen force restrains my limbs and prevents my resistance. She smothers every inch of my body and marks me with her sanguine goo.
In a glimpse, I’m forced spread-eagle and restrained by sand-like cuffs. My thighs quiver under her embrace. I peer toward her as her flame-eyes dance in excitement. That insatiable heat that only David has ever caused begins to build. My body betrays me as I convulse under her lingual attack on my treasonous center.
One more jolt escapes from my pelvis before she rises to stare down at me. Her mouth opens to speak. “I told you, you’re my whore now.”
My chest constricts as I witness Kate morph into a male version of herself. An erect dick faces me, and I begin to buck in a frantic attempt to break free. His gaze focuses on me as his flame eyes flicker with excitement. He slinks down on all fours then stalks toward me. Screams bellow from my throat as I lurch forward in an attempt to force myself to wake from this hellish nightmare.
Male Kate reaches my foot, then begins to lick from my toes to my thigh. I pray and pray to wake up. As his tongue reaches my exposed apex, I mentally prepare my mind to escape to somewhere peaceful.
“I need you, Scarlet. My demon soul needs to feast on your fear. All this lust mixed with fear makes me invincible,” he reveals before his tongue viciously thrusts inside of me and then lashes from within me. His hands use a painful force to fondle my breasts. I turn my gaze to watch the maroon waves crash onto the shifting sand.
He’s vicious with me. With every thrust and grunt, I depart deeper into my mind and far, far away from here. Tears drizzle down my face as I endure one plunge after another. His moans increase with volume and then he grabs at my cheeks for me to face him.
“Why are you crying? Don’t I feel good to you?” he questions with fury as his flame-eyes flicker with hatred.
“Isn’t…it…obvious?” I whimper.
He stops, then morphs into David. “Is this better?” Even his voice is a perfect mimic of David’s. Again, he trusts and grunts above me.
“This isn’t any better. No matter who or what you change into, I’ll always know that it’s you!” I yell as I scramble to break from my imprisonment and torture.
This will not break me.
Rose-colored foam begins to drift from the shore toward me. I cringe and recoil in disgust as he secretes his semen all over me. Vomit violently hurls from my mouth as the beach’s restraints release me. Confusion surges through me as I frantically search for an escape. Images of drowning and then waking up from my last nightmare flash in my mind. With every stride, my feet sink into the unstable sand. I roll my ankle but ignore the pain and leap into the impenetrable sludge that surrounds me. With every stroke, I sink deep into the sanguine ocean.
Kate’s screams penetrate the atmosphere as I allow the ocean to swallow me deeper into an unknown abyss. The familiar grasp of death chokes at my throat as the blood ocean consumes me. Suddenly, a thunderbolt strikes and a glimpse of hope shines from above when a brazen spotlight infiltrates the concentrated sanguine sea.
David
Footsteps shuffle down the hallway while I stare at the ever-ticking wall clock. Hours have slugged by, and yet Scarlet continues to be strapped to her hospital bed. Her vitals are desirable, and her once vibrant scratches are now a shade closer to pink. Besides the restraints, she appears so peaceful. The way her wavy, thick, auburn hair frames her face creates a deceptive effect that she’s well. But she’s not. Images of Scarlet’s vengeful eyes penetrate my thoughts.
My soul is depleted, and I’m unsure how much more I can take of this.
The short and long hand on the wall clock reveal that it’s 1 AM. My palms feel dank and coarse against my face. I roll my neck until I’m facing the ceiling, then consider if I should call Scarlet’s family.
I slump in defeat onto the rigid hospital sofa. As a drawn-out blink overpowers my eyes, I see Scarlet’s left foot twitch. I jolt forward, rub the sleep from my eyes, then stare as I wait for another response from her.
Her legs squirm as her arms fight against the plastic bed restraints. An incoherent gurgle bubbles from her throat before her eyes blink open. Her screams pang against the walls as she glares and snarls at me from her bed. My feet trip over each other before the glacial hospital tile slams hard against my face.
“She’s in meee,” Scarlet howls in pain before her convulsions cause the bed to tremble beneath her.
A forced wind gushes into the room, and I’m almost trampled by two male nurses that rush to Scarlet’s aid. I totter until I get my footing, then remove myself from distracting the nurses. Two more staff members rush to Scarlet’s side.
“Sir, please wait in the hallway,” someone instructs over Scarlet’s screams. I mindlessly exit the room. My feet lead me to the floor’s waiting room. I stagger toward a row of chairs, but I’m unable to sit. My cell rings, and I remember that I’m on call and that I probably should answer my phone. But I ignore it. Being here, for Scarlet, is much more important than one of my patients. Also, Greg is on secondary standby; his ass can take care of this patient.
My knees buckle as I sink into a nearby chair and acknowledge tonight’s events. Mental illness. Scarlet’s uncontrollable thrashing and howls haunt the hallway while various medical staff rush in and out of her room. She’s mentally gone. Her once vibrant face forms in my thoughts. Those hazel eyes that would glimmer only for me are now filled with an insane hatred. She was so passionate and yet so innocent. I brush my hand across my face, then rest my chin in my palm. My mind drifts to the first weeks of our courtship. How simple things were back then.
Why, Lord? Why?
“Sir?” Plain white shoes come into my line of vision. I drift my attention to the short brunette, then straighten my back before I lift to stand above her.
“Y-ee-es?” I stammer in response as my feet adjust to my weight.
“Sir, are you Scarlet’s next of kin?” A boring font on her hospital tag reveals that her name is Amy. She takes a step away from me.
“No,” I state without thinking. I haven’t married her yet, so technically I’m not her next of kin. My response spurs guilt. Why am I denying her?
“Sir, Scarlet requires medical attention that would need to be approved by her next of kin. Do you have a way of contacting someone that could make these decisions?” Her condescending tone causes me to snap.
“Yes. Yes, of course. I’ll call her parents.” She shakes her head in alarm before she whines in request that I find her after I place my call.
I sulk into my seat, then locate my cellular phone. I pause to consider who would be a better choice: Scarlet’s parents or Scarlet’s sister, Violet.
Elizabeth has become quite the trouble maker. Her drinking has affected…well, everyone. Truthfully, I cannot recall when we last had an amiable visit with Scarlet’s other siblings, Jade and Adrian, so they’re not an option. After a few taps on my cell, I connect with Violet’s number.
“He
lllooo?” Violet’s groggy voice answers on the second ring. “Hello?” she questions more clearly.
I’m at a loss of words and unsure what to even say. How do you share this news? How do you tell someone that their family member has had a psychotic break? I purposely pursued gynecology and obstetrics for the astonishment that is life. And yes, death, pain, and loss are also factors of my OBGYN practice, but it’s not as prevalent as this. I consider ending my call, but then Violet says, “David? Is everything all right?”
I clear my throat and prepare to give the catastrophic prognosis. “I apologize for the hour, Violet. But…” Scarlet’s illness and the sensitivity required to state her uncertain mental state chokes at my throat. Tension builds in my abdomen, and I fear that I will lack the appropriate emotion to disclose what I need to reveal. Again, I clear my throat then say, “Violet, it is with true remorse…that I must share that…Scarlet has had a mental set back.”
Violet’s silent, then stutters before she begins to bargain and plead with herself more than me. “But she was OK. How?” With cautious sensitivity, I summarize what I believe Violet needed to know of the events that brought us here. I give her a moment to process while I wait for her response. Dr. Jensen is in full effect, and my level of guilt is in full throttle as I grasp my emotional detachment from Scarlet’s illness.
Violet’s silence rages at me as my love for Scarlet pangs for me to remember. To remember our many cherished moments. Time ticks on, and Violet has yet to respond.
“Hello?” I question in an abrasive tone. Violet’s sniffles greet my harshness.
“Are they relating this incident to her TBIS?” she questions as she continues to sob. My love for Scarlet tears at my heart and urges me to be here, to be David and not Dr. Jensen. Be present. Be loving. Be here for Scarlet.
“Honestly, Violet, they haven’t said much. Not to me, anyway. Since I’m technically not Scarlet’s family, the staff keeps requesting her next of kin.” I wait for Violet to respond.
“I’m on my way,” Violet states and ends our call before I’m able to reply.
Exhaustion travels through my tired bones. I contemplate if I should continue to wait here or return to Scarlet’s room. Then, I remember my obligation to inform the nurse of Scarlet’s next of kin. After I’ve tactfully updated the nurse, the brunette nurse from earlier follows me to Scarlet’s room.
“For now, you can wait here,” she states as she rushes to Scarlet’s side.
A blunt stab to my heart leaves me awestruck as I gawk in disbelief at Scarlet’s appearance. Her arms are firmly restrained to the hospital bed. She’s limp and subdued. Scarlet’s stare is fixed on an area over my head. I’m still and feel glued to the entrance of the room.
“We had to heavily medicate her,” the nurse whispers with a tinge of shame. She combs her hair behind her ear before she sighs and reveals that Scarlet ripped free from her restraints and bit a nurse. Shock freezes my movement as Scarlet’s bruises stare back at me.
“Is she awake?” My question is blunt. I’ve never dealt with mental illness. Not one-on-one, anyway. Scarlet’s eyes have yet to blink. Her hazel eyes seem lifeless, as if her mind were in a different dimension. I rack my brain for any information from that one semester I completed of psychology. Nothing. My lover and future wife is now debilitated by mental illness. Mental illness.
Stay. Be here for Scarlet.
“Should I talk to her as I did while she was in an induced coma?” I slowly shift to give the nurse my attention.
“It wouldn’t hurt to try,” she responds with a meek smile. The nurse gives my shoulder a pat and excuses herself.
With hesitation, I take calculated steps toward the chair that’s next to Scarlet. The moment I’m seated, I lean in to stroke Scarlet’s arm and say, “I’m here, lover. Always. Please. Please, come back to me.”
Scarlet mumbles something inaudible. Tears threaten at my eyes as a stiff jab digs deep into my chest. I choke back my emotions, inhale, then make a bargain with God.
God, I know I only come to you when I need something. But please, if not for me and her family. Please, Lord, heal Scarlet for Scarlet.
Before I’m able to continue, I hear a gasp from behind me. I turn to witness Violet collapse into Milton’s chest. Milton’s face hardens as he soothes Violet. I stand to speak, then gesture for them to follow me out of the room.
“What have you heard? Milton questions in a firm jolt.
I exhale then lean my somnolent frame against the wall. After I’ve cleared my throat, I answer, “They haven’t shared anything new, however. I recall from Scarlet’s TBIS treatment, that…” My voice rasps as I choke back a sob. I cough, then continue, “The TBIS specialist mentioned…that sometimes patients can portray symptoms of…”
I pause and feel that if I say it out loud, it’ll seal it and become true. That if I even speak it, that my sweet, passionate lover would indeed be mentally ill. When I proposed, I made a promise: To love and be with her. And although we haven’t confirmed our vows, I will be with her. Through sickness and health.
“Well?” Violet interrupts my thoughts. Again, I clear my throat, then straighten my shoulders. And with a firm professionalism that I apply to inform patients of negative news, I state, “Scarlet’s TBIS staff mentioned the possibility of mental illness.”
The words escape my mouth and quickly thrust deep into my gut. Violet’s knees buckle and Milton has to adjust his weight to keep her from falling. Her sobs increase in volume. Milton surrenders to her movements and wraps himself around her as they collapse onto the frigid hospital tile. My inner-fortitude weakens as the reality of Scarlet improving from her prognosis chisels away at my denial of her current state. A nervous cough interrupts our discussion.
“Excuse me, but are you all Scarlet Rodrick’s family?” a young male doctor questions as the three of us hesitate to rise from the hallway floor.
“Yes,” Violet whispers as she smooths out her sleek ebony-colored hair. She places her hand on her chest in wait for an update.
“Hello. I’m Dr. Warn, the physician on staff.” He offers a firm hand shake to all of us. His smile is timid, and as a professional, I know that what’s to come is nothing positive.
Dr. Warn requests that we follow him to his office to speak in a private setting. Following a short walk, we two-step it until we’re all cramped into Dr. Warn’s closet-like office. Milton and I stand behind Violet. Dr. Warn shuffles to fit into his seat.
A haze of exhaustion looms as a reminder of how late it is. My attention sways in and out of distraction throughout Dr. Warn’s nervous speech. Violet nor Milton interrupt him. My mind is too preoccupied by Scarlet’s attack and demise to even form a question.
“I apologize if I’m rambling, but Scarlet is a first for…I have yet to treat someone exhibiting her symptoms.” He places his palms onto his desk before he straightens out his shoulders. His confession reveals his novice skill level. What a newbie mistake.
His eye begins to twitch while the silent room taunts at my emotions. Down the hall, we hear the elevators close and then open.
“So…she’ll be transferred to the David Lawrence Center? Violet whispers as she slouches into her chair.
“Yes…” Dr. Warn starts, before he shifts his weight in his chair. “You see…umm…Scarlet is physically well, however. She presents textbook symptoms for psychosis. We can keep her stable, but the staff at DLC would be a more well-equipped treatment facility.” His lips twist into an uncomfortable grimace.
“When will she be transferred, and will we be allowed to be present for her journey?” Milton questions as Violet and I stir but stay silent.
Each nerve that surrounds my frontal lobes begins to ache. My palms meet my face as I attempt to rub my migraine away.
Violet snaps her gaze up to me. “Do you believe we should sign off on this treatment, David?”
At first, all I can do is gawk in disbelief. In a thick confusion, I search from Dr. Warn to Violet’
s face. She grabs my hand, then gives it a tight squeeze. Scarlet is my lover and fiancé, but I do not feel that this is my decision to make.
“Are you all right?” Violet doesn’t release her grip.
Like a gust of wind, a profound exhalation releases from within me. Guilt radiates from my pores as I avert my gaze to my shoes and say, “Yes. If this is her doctor’s suggestion, then it’s what’s best for Scarlet.”
Scarlet
David’s sitting next to me as my screams ricochet from the walls.
“She’s inside of me,” I yell as I reach for him to help me.
David quickly stands and then recoils away from me.
Alarms shrill and overpower my shrieks before a squad of medical staff charge into my now tight hospital room. I search for David, but he’s left me. He left me all alone with all of these strangers.
“No!” I bellow with an animalistic fury. My inner-rage releases me from my restraints. The medical staff fails to contain me as I rip free from their restraints and leap to bite at a nurse’s shoulder.
“Ahh!” An agonizing roar escapes from deep within my bowels.
“Fuck!” someone yells while I witness my teeth sink into his skin.
“What the…” another blurts out.
“Fucking nutcase bit me!”
A warm liquid splashes against my arm. I feel bruises form as I’m repeatedly slammed down onto my hospital bed. Finally, my violent misbehavior settles as an icy-haze suppresses my movements.
“That’ll keep her down,” a female voice says in the distance.
Swirls of blue and pink dance in the air. My blood feels as if it has thickened to the consistency of wet cement. My mind sways in and out of consciousness as the debilitating medications intensify.
The wall clock taunts me with every tick from the second hand. Drool escapes from my mouth. I’m unable to move even an inch as I gape at the metal hands moving with effort from one minute to the next.
Scarlet Unleashed Page 4