Adapt

by Edward Freeland

  “It is you who lacks understanding,” he said whilst writing notes. Daniel’s confusion was re-focusing as anger. “Do you think I can read your mind?”

  “No, I don’t think anyone can, and I have never said anything like it.”

  Daniel was becoming increasingly concerned by what was being documented on the page. The doctor continued stroking his beard along with his note taking.

  “Denial of symptoms. We will get there. You need to recognise your illness. You are sick. Do you think we are being watched?”

  “No.”

  “We will work on your symptoms. I’m going to end this for you. The nurse will take a sample of your blood, then we will walk over and show you around.”

  Daniel had his blood taken then he followed Dr Cribson across to the ward. He looked up at the two storey brick built secure unit. Looking over to the far end of the unit he could see two builders on scaffolding nursing the ill looking depressed brickwork. This is not a little therapy room of relaxation, a few plants and a cute nurse on hand, this is a prison. I’ve volunteered to go to a prison. The doctor used a card key to enter. Dread drenched Daniel’s demeanour as he walked into the unit. The wrong side of the wall. No daylight could bless the inside of the ward. White walls, white ceiling, white floor. Many of the bulbs were gone, never replaced, giving no formality to shadow. Shadows of objects, nurses and patients were cast off in different directions. If you’re not insane on arrival, you will be by the time you leave.

  Daniel saw an old man playing chess against himself. A grey beard down to his waist. He would move a chess piece, laugh to himself and then move the opposite colour. His teeth were missing as was his index finger on his playing hand.

  “I will show you the garden area and then your bed. I hope you can rest in peace while you are under us,” said Dr Cribson.

  “I can leave at any point, right?” he asked.

  “We will see,” he replied. “I will leave you to it.”

  Daniel walked to the communal area and took a seat in the once soft chair, foam escaping from the many holes in the material. The chairs were the only contrast to the white walls, they were orange with a layer of ground in dirt on the surface. The two women that sat adjacent to him stared at him like he didn’t belong. You’re right, I don’t belong here. A man paced back and forth. He wore a cap and a long fishing jacket, his grey beard had remains of his meal entwined. The eerie atmosphere on the ward was enough to take his mind off of his own problems. A large woman wearing a filthy puffer jacket and jogging bottoms stopped in her tracks and looked at Daniel.

  “You’re dead,” she shouted. She pointed at Daniel. “Dead.” She edged closer. “Dead,” she said a third time. Her face was round and potted with small holes. Deep wrinkles marked under her eyes and across her forehead. She came closer.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I know you,” she said, her raspy voice sounding painful. “We know you.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” he said. She continued on her way. He ruminated his options. What can I do? Was I really thinking of doing that last night? Could I really follow through? It’s a coward’s choice. I’m no coward and never have been, but my confusion has morphed into desperation. I need help, but not from these people. I need to get out of here. He looked over at two male nurses walking through. Both looked in his direction. One whispered to the other and he then nodded. This place gives me the creeps. I’m going to ask to leave tomorrow, I don’t belong here.

  The old chess player eventually won. He was always going to win as he knew his opponent’s move before it was made. Any counter-action from the opposing side, the Nobody, was swiftly defunct. The Nobody had no chance. Daniel sat back and closed his eyes. Through his eyelids he could detect a flickering light. He listened to time passing. The clock behind him grew louder. Each tick another second vanishing. Time that should be spent confronting real issues rather than the new focus of a phantom psychosis.

  That would be convenient if all of life’s problems could be wrapped up with a simple word, psychosis. Debt, bullying, redundancy, a victim of crime, illness. It’s okay, it’s all in your mind, none of it’s real. Psychiatry isn’t even a real science, it’s an opinion, an idea, a stab in the dark.

  “Dead.” Daniel’s new acquaintance had returned, dragging her soles on the floor, dragging his soul with them. She continued past, eyeing Daniel every step of the way. They are going in and out of that door, maybe you can smoke outside. He had returned to the old habit a few days before seeing Dr Cribson. He pulled out the pack of Marlborough and dug around for a lighter, which he couldn’t find. His friend of old was back with him – a box of twenty. It was as though they had never been apart, the years may well have been weeks, days or hours. Nicotine coursed his veins once again.

  Daniel meandered around the Grand Master on his way to the yard. On his approach to the exit he heard footsteps in pursuit. He turned around instinctively. The man in his shadow was a nurse. Thick, bristly grey hair receding dramatically at the front distracted attention away from his long eyebrows. The long white coat he wore was like camouflage in the ward. He could blend into the background with ease.

  “Daniel,” said the nurse.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “I’m here for the night and will be checking on you every twenty minutes. If you have any disturbances I will be watching.”

  “Okay,” said Daniel. “There’s only one problem, I was going for a smoke but I can’t find my lighter.”

  “That’s not a problem, that’s a requirement once on this side of the fence. If you had one I would confiscate it immediately. If you want to smoke, ask me and I will light it for you.”

  “So you’re the only one here with a lighter.”

  “That’s right. I hold all the power,” he said whilst displaying the red clipper in his palm. “Smoke it on the concrete by the door. I will light it then leave you to it. The door is unlocked for a few hours of the day, if you want some fresh air during that time you don’t have to ask.”

  The hours were long, the perception of time slowed. Daniel was not hungry but he queued with the rest in the canteen once dinner was called. The cook was a tall old woman with a head of tight curls. All six foot one of her was skeletal, each joint looked to pierce her skin. The large spoon in her hand was used to serve the minimalist menu. A large tray of mincemeat, or a smaller tray of what appeared to be the same. The hungry regulars all went for the large tray and Daniel thought he would follow suit. Being the second from last in line he was surprised there was still plenty of mince and gravy in the large tray. The cook scooped the spoon into the small untouched option, ready to dump it on Daniel’s plate.

  “I will have what everyone else is having, if that’s okay?” he asked. She stopped her action and looked up at him, her stare as if he had insulted her.

  “That’s mince,” she said, pointing at the large tray. “So is this,” she said, pointing at the small tray.

  “I would like it from the large tray, please.” Again she looked at him like he had audacity. Un-abandoning her original decision she scooped from the small untouched tray and slowly poured it on his plate, maintaining eye contact all the while.

  “I hope you like it,” she said with a smile. Daniel didn’t protest a third time and took his plate to the nearest table.

  Looking around he recognised most of the faces, all of which he had passed by on the ward, such as the Grand Master. Others he was better acquainted with, such as the woman whose vocabulary was limited. You’re dead reverberated in his head whenever he looked in her direction. On one table, however, there were three new faces. He didn’t recognise them. The man to the left was the tallest of the three, his head a good few inches above the other two whilst seated. His beard was a fiery ginger and unkempt. He wore a black beanie hat, and a black hooded sweater. The man in the middle was hard to distinguish due to his baseball cap. The fraying visor of the head-wear providing a shadowy guise, his head was ti
lted forward making it impossible for Daniel to get a clear look at him. The third man was clean shaven from chin to cranium. His face looked hardened and the scar running along his jawline was paired with another over his right eye.

  Daniel cleared his plate, every morsel scraped into the bin, before placing it on the stack of dishes. He wasn’t hungry but rather felt sick, an unsettling nauseous feeling. Nerves, shock, apprehension, he knew not the reason but his stomach could face little. The smell from the kitchen was enough to deter him from eating. He decided to go for a cigarette and searched for the nurse. On finding the man armed with the lighter they walked to the yard. Once lit he sucked the smoke deep into his lungs. This will be my meal for tonight. I will skip breakfast and be home for lunch tomorrow.

  The three men from the canteen followed a few moments later. They gathered beside him. An outdoor lamp illuminated the smoking area but the face of the baseball cap wearer was still hard to see.

  “What’s your name?” asked the man with the scar. Daniel wanted solitude, space to breathe and think but he answered anyway.

  “Daniel.”

  “What’s your surname?” asked the man with the beanie hat. Daniel glanced at him. Rather than answer he responded with his own question.

  “You know my name. What is your name?”

  “You can call me Ginger-beard,” he said with a chuckle.

  “I’ll do that,” Daniel said whilst breathing out smoke.

  “I’m Scarface,” said the bald man.

  “Of course you are,” said Daniel.

  “I’m Reggie,” said the man with the baseball cap.

  “Nice to meet you all.” Daniel puffed on his cigarette, closed his eyes and ignored the three, hoping they would continue to converse among themselves. He heard one of them move closer. Opening his eyes he saw Ginger-beard now within arm’s-reach. Scarface and Reggie homed in as well. Leave me alone.

  “He doesn’t want to be sociable,” Ginger-beard said to the others.

  “It would seem that way,” said Scarface.

  “I’ve had a bad few weeks,” explained Daniel. “I’ve got a lot on my mind and I’m not here to socialise. So please don’t take offence, guys.” Daniel looked away. Scarface gave Ginger-beard a smirk and they moved closer.

  “I never saw myself as a vigilante, but I’m happy to be the giver of justice,” said Ginger-beard.

  “I’ve always wanted to hurt a rapist,” said Reggie. The three were too close for comfort, making Daniel irritated with their presence.

  “I agree,” said Ginger-beard. “I’ve always wanted to hang one. String him up and watch him die.” He was now within inches of Daniel’s face. “I heard there was one here tonight.”

  “I heard the same thing,” said Scarface.

  “Imagine that,” said Ginger-beard. “One lands in your lap and you’re allowed to do what you want with him.” Ginger-beard was six foot three, his head tilted forward nearly resting on Daniel’s head. He could smell the man’s breath and didn’t like it. All his other feelings, the confusion, embarrassment, all receded as adrenaline raced through his veins, his arms pumping with blood. The other issues that got him here were hard to understand, a struggle to solve. This was different. This was a quantifiable situation. He understood what he faced, it was basic. A problem natural for him to process, and decipherable with instinct. Thinking wasn’t required.

  “Ease off,” Daniel said as he forced the man back, creating space between them. He noticed movement from his right. He glanced over to analyse the threat. Scarface looked ready. As he turned his attention back to Ginger-beard, the tall man’s head struck Daniel on the nose. The beanie hat softened the impact but his nose began to bleed. Daniel gripped his hooded jumper. His attacker drove forward. The movement of the large man was expected, telegraphed and taken advantage of by Daniel, the judoka, using Ginger-beard’s own entropy to gain an improved position. Energy traversed from the ground through Ginger-beard’s thighs and into his back muscle with force as he attempted to rush Daniel. Daniel absorbed and pulled, fuelling the momentum, twisting his hip swiftly and powerfully into Ginger-beard, throwing him to the concrete with a dull thud. With his opponent now on his back Daniel swung his hammer fist down. Scarface struck Daniel to the back of the neck, which hurt more than the head-butt. Two male nurses came hurtling into the yard. They yanked Daniel off of the man and pinned him on his back. Two more dutifully arrived to stop Ginger-beard from getting off of the floor. Scarface and Reggie stayed clear.

  Daniel didn’t tangle with the interceptors, he knew who they were once he glimpsed the white coats. “I’m cool,” he said. “I was defending myself. It was a lucid judgement call. Don’t inject me or anything. I’m calm.” They helped him to his feet.

  “You come in with us,” the nurse said whilst gripping Daniel’s arm. “You two stay with him,” he called to the pair restraining Ginger-beard. They pinned him to the ground until Daniel had been escorted into the ward.

  “Get off me, you bastards,” said Ginger-beard. Scarface and Reggie stood like bookends with their fists clenched.

  “Let him up for fuck sake,” said Scarface. The nurses eased their position and released the man. Ginger-beard held his jaw as he got to his feet. The nurse brushed down Ginger-beard’s back and shoulders.

  “Why did you do that?” asked the nurse.

  “Justice can’t wait,” replied Ginger-beard.

  “Justice can wait, and you had best see that it does,” said the nurse. “Be patient.”

  “How can you expect me to be patient with that fucker?”

  “Just be patient. Stay away from him for a while. If you can’t I will have you segregated.”

  “Done,” said Ginger-beard. The nurse patted him on the upper arm.

  “I will leave you alone, then. I’m watching you. Stay away,” said the nurse as he stepped down. The nurse made his way into the ward. Ginger-beard continued to rotate his jaw. Scarface and Reggie sauntered over.

  “Where were you two?” he asked.

  “Where were you?” said Scarface. “On your back.”

  “Fuck off,” said Ginger-beard.

  Daniel walked out of the ward toilets, his face washed and nose cleaned. Making his way to his bed the nurse in charge for the night walked passed rubbing his hands.

  “Only me here soon. I will have my eye over everything so don’t be concerned,” the nurse said.

  “I am not concerned by them. I have more on my mind than the three stooges.” Daniel continued to his bed and sat on its edge. What a place. One night, and then home tomorrow. The nurse followed him into the sleeping area with two plastic cups in his hand. Daniel looked up. The men in white coats, what does he want now? The cup was in front of Daniel’s face before he said a word.

  “Take these,” the nurse said. His tone of voice more friendly as he tipped the cup for Daniel to peer inside. “These will help you relax, every one of your worries will disappear.” Daniel eyed the three pills.

  “I will give those a miss if you don’t mind,” he said rubbing his forehead.

  “Have you got a headache?” the nurse asked.

  “I do.”

  “Take these, they will help. You clearly need them.”

  “Okay.” Daniel took all three in succession. “My mind needs a break.”

  The nurse smiled as he retrieved the plastic cup out of Daniel’s hands. “We will help your mind break,” said the nurse. Daniel looked confused.

  “Excuse me, I didn’t catch that.”

  “We will help your mind have a break,” the nurse repeated.

  “Oh.” Daniel felt the need to lie down, he lifted his feet onto the bed and relaxed onto his back. The nurse leaned forward.

  “Things are going to heat up now. You will see,” said the nurse. Daniel’s eyes felt heavy. He struggled to keep them open. The nurse stood at the foot of his bed. The room became blurry, his vision unable to focus. He moved his hands into view and tried to clear his eyes by staring at hi
s palms. He looked over to the door and noticed a hazy white coat disappearing. He fought as long as he could until his eyelids had him submit.

  Daniel opened his eyes. His pupils small dots as they adjusted. Lifting his head off of the pillow he tried to swallow but couldn’t. He tried again. His retching stomach heaved. He imitated throwing up and leaned over the side of the bed believing he was about to. He heaved a second time and began choking, then swallowing, then choking again. The lining of his throat and mouth felt coated. He flopped onto his back and rubbed his eyes. His right hand moved to his throat. That really hurts. Whilst rubbing his neck he simultaneously felt pain in his kidney area and the back of his head. He felt the need to attend all three but it was his throat that was most sore. Daniel sat up and brushed the back of his left hand across his mouth. Turning his wrist to check the time he realised his watch was gone. What is that? he thought as he stared at the back of his left hand. A thick white substance was strung across it. His immediate reaction was to get it off quick using the bed sheet. He saw his watch on the floor and picked it up. How long have I been out? Fifteen hours. Fifteen bloody hours.

  The bump on the back of his head was sensitive when he was washing his hair in the shower. A mirror was nowhere in sight so he was unable to inspect his neck. He skipped breakfast; he desired no food, at least not within the walls that trapped him. Daniel waited to be seen by a nursing practitioner. A middle aged woman with long dark hair called him into the small room, one of many rooms off of the main corridor.

  “My name is Jenny Green. What is the problem?” she said.

  “This place isn’t right for me. I came in anxious that my privacy had been invaded. I have been here a day and I now have physical pain to deal with as well.”

  “You started a fight last night. What did you expect?”

  “I didn’t start anything. I don’t care about the fight, I just want to go home,” he said.

  “You can’t, you’re under our care now,” she informed him.

  “I came in voluntarily, I was told I could leave at any point. So can I leave? Today, please?” he asked.