Asylum

by Lily White

  Pulling my knees up in front of me, I dared a glance at the person who’d entered.

  “What do you believe you heard last night?”

  Dr. Hutchins’ expression was blank. Mirroring the mannerisms of a professional, he studied me with pen in hand, ready to jot down whatever answer I gave.

  Steeling my spine, I allowed my thoughts to float back. It wasn’t easy to recall the specific details, only the overall horror. “I can’t be sure.”

  “Hmmmm…” Stepping farther into the room, he didn’t move closer to me than a few feet. His body language was that of a cautious man, moving slowly in order to avoid scaring the helpless creature before him. “Tell me what you think you remember.”

  I took a steadying breath, bracing myself against the impact of the memories of the night before.

  “Joe and Emerson. They were in the cells on either side of me. I heard them…” Tears welled in my eyes and my voice shook with the terror that was crippling my body. “…They did things to those women, to Sally…”

  Kneeling down so that he was face to face with me, Jeremy regarded me shrewdly. However, behind those observant eyes, I saw a glimmer of pity. “I’m not surprised that’s the form of abuse you believe you heard.”

  “Believe I heard?” Indignity short-circuited by patience. “What do you mean believe?”

  His lips pulled into a thin line and he glanced away from me towards the door. Turning back, he stood up and continued the conversation from a position where he was looking down on me. “There were no women in the cells next door to you last night. You were the only patient in this ward.”

  It didn’t make sense. I shook my head against what he was saying, refusing to believe that his words could be true. “No…I know what I heard…”

  “I just asked the night nurse. You’ve been kept in this ward due to your night terrors. The screaming upsets the other patients. We have to keep you separated.”

  So slow that I could see the curtains fall and reopen, I blinked; light becoming darkness before reverting back to light.

  Consumed in silence, I replayed his words in my head:

  There was no one.

  I was alone.

  How was any of that possible?

  “I know what I heard…” Spoken weakly I attempted to object to what he was telling me.

  He sighed heavily above me. “Terrie is going to bring you breakfast in a few minutes. Again, I’d like to remind you to eat it this time. Once you’ve been bathed and taken for your meds, you’ll be brought to my office. I’m glad I came here this morning. It’s given me more information that will be useful to help you.”

  Turning to walk out the door, his white coat blew out around his legs, the silver coloring of his pen flashing from his pocket when it was struck by the dim light.

  “Dr. Hutchins?” I called out.

  He stopped walking, but didn’t bother to turn back in my direction. “Call me Jeremy. I find having a more personal relationship with my patients makes it easier for them to open up to me.” Finally peeking at me from over his shoulder, he added, “I cannot help you if you’re not completely open to me. Full disclosure comes with full access, Ms. Sutton.”

  Disappearing into the hall, he left me with my mouth hanging open. He contradicted himself, asking me to refer to him by his first name only to refuse to refer to me by mine. He was a like a two-way mirror, able to see in and watch me, study my every move, but he wouldn’t allow me to look back at him.

  Chapter Seven

  Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings - always darker, emptier and simpler.

  - Friedrich Nietzsche

  “Welcome to your first therapy session, Ms. Sutton. I suggest you make yourself comfortable because you will be here for a few hours.” Circling around the desk in the center of the room, Jeremy motioned with his hand for me to choose a place to sit.

  I hadn’t been in this room before and I didn’t recognize the odd medical instruments and furniture that was scattered within the space. In addition to several large and overly cushioned chairs, there were also multiple couches, chaise lounges and three beds. Each area appeared to have a different color theme: stark white in one, pitch black in another. The other areas were brightly colored in gemstone shades of ruby, sapphire and emerald. The rugs and fabrics and linens matched perfectly, each area sectioned off by a curtain that matched its theme.

  However, one mysterious corner drew my eye, the curiosity as to what existed behind the opaque curtain settling itself heavily in my head.

  “Where are we?”

  “We are in a room I designed for the purpose of exploring your memories.”

  “I don’t understand…”

  “You’re not supposed to.” He smiled. “What I’m going to attempt over the next couple of weeks hasn’t been done before, Ms. Sutton. It’s my own theory and I’ve selected you to be my first subject. Nothing that I’m planning to do is unordinary. It’s just a mixture of different practices and theories that I’ve blended together in an attempt to access all parts of your mind. You have nothing to fear. Please choose a section of the room that draws you and we’ll begin there.”

  Looking around, I considered each of the different areas. Immediately refusing any section that contained a bed, I was left with three areas: white, red and green. I hated the white area because it reminded me of the halls of the asylum. The green area contained two wing back chairs and a chaise lounge. The red contained two large overstuffed reclining chairs. I didn’t want any area where I could be forced to lie down, so I selected the red. Moving over, I seated myself in the chair on the left.

  He smirked. “Interesting choice.”

  “Why so?” I couldn’t peel my eyes off him. Walking over with a cool swagger, he carried himself confidently. Beneath the white lab coat, he wore a plain blue button up shirt tucked into slate grey trousers. The material flowed over his legs flawlessly, the cut of his clothes appearing to have been tailored to every masculine curve of his body. I looked away when he sat down, ashamed to have allowed even a moment of attraction towards him.

  “This is a safe area for you, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t understand how any of this is going to help me. What does color have to do with memory?”

  “It doesn’t, not always for conscious memory anyway. However, humans possess different forms of memory in the complex computer they call their brain and color can sometimes evoke an emotion or memory of which you were unaware. I think I can access all forms of memory inside you, all except for conscious memory of course.”

  “Which means?”

  “Which means if you try to recall information, it’s not there. However, your delusions tell me that something exists beneath the surface of your conscious thought. If I can access it, we might be able to find out the truth of what’s happened to you since the accident that caused your amnesia.”

  “I’m not delusional.”

  “That remains to be seen, Ms. Sutton…”

  “Why are you calling me that?” I was feeling angry and irrational, the volatile stirrings of rage kicking through my veins with a ferocious pulse. Anything was my outlet. Whatever I could see or hear, taste or touch - it didn’t matter. Everything angered me so easily that I was beginning to feel as crazy as they insisted I was.

  “I’ve been calling you Ms. Sutton this entire time.”

  “No.” I shook my head, images of the day before, the way his mouth curved to pronounce my name flashing in moving pictures, his voice deepened and pulled apart like a slow playing record. “You called me Alex. You told me to call you Jeremy because you used my first name.”

  His pen furiously scribbled over his notebook and I threw up my hands in defeat. “What the hell is going on?” I screeched out the question.

  Without responding to my display of anger, he finished scribbling his notes and pulled a syringe from his pocket. I recognized it immediately and shook my head, “No…no, no, no, no…”

  “It’s not what
you think. I’m not sedating you.” Pulling the cap from the needle, he pushed up on the depressor until a small stream of fluid shot from the tip of the syringe. “This medication will open you up for the next two hours at least. It will make you receptive, nothing more.”

  “Receptive to what?”

  Pushing out of his chair, he crossed the small space between us, grabbing the wrist of the right arm with one hand and pulling it towards him. “Receptive to my questioning. Hold your arm still please. I want to ensure I don’t rip the vein.”

  I couldn’t have pulled my arm back if I tried. Every muscle in my body was paralyzed by the fear and anxiety I felt. I watched him reach into his pocket to pull out a thin strip of plastic that he took no time in wrapping around my arm. Tapping on the vein, he brought it to the surface of my skin and looked up at me after positioning the needle. “This will pinch.”

  The needle pressed in, sinking into my vein as easily as a warm knife in butter. I jumped at the sharp pinch, watching the clear liquid leave the syringe as it was forced inside my body. My head wobbled instantly, my senses strengthening and then fading out so quickly that I fell back against the cushioned chair. The air left my lungs in a quick and shuddering breath.

  “Close your eyes.”

  It was his voice, soft and soothing as the heat of his palm brushed over my face to pull my eyelids down. I didn’t resist, choosing instead to enjoy the heightened sounds and sensations I was experiencing at that moment. I felt light and airy, as if I could float up from the seat and fly through the room, laughing and smiling at my newfound freedom.

  “The medication will take a few minutes to kick in to full strength and I’m going to use that time to explain what we’re going to do.”

  “Have you hypnotized me, doc?”

  “Not quite and please, call me Jeremy.”

  I laughed, the drunken feeling removing all my tension and terror. For once, I felt like the walls of the asylum weren’t closing in on me and threatening to smother me in their confinement. “But you don’t call me, Alex.”

  I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I heard him chuckle. He’d moved away and I braved peeking out at him. As soon as I could see his blurry form, I noticed he was removing his white jacket. When he turned to look at me, I smiled. He shook his head in disbelief, stepping towards me instantly to reach out and smooth my eyelids back closed. “Don’t open your eyes until I tell you, Alex. This therapy won’t work if you fight against it.”

  I laughed at his use of my name and my skin tingled. The pounding of my heart inside me was divine and so strong, every breath I took infusing me with pleasure and heat.

  “I’m going to take you back to the beginning, Alex, to the thing that caused your amnesia. It’s going to be a painful memory, one that I’m sure will cause you a lot of heartache and distress, but it’s a necessary memory. Do you understand?”

  I knew instantly what he wanted me to discuss. “The accident, the one that killed my parents.”

  “Yes. That’s the one. Your memory was affected as a result of head trauma you received in that accident. However, the events leading up to the crash should be clear if my theory is correct.”

  “What if I don’t want to remember?” It was an honest question. I didn’t want to go back to that day, to the moment when it felt like my entire world had been shattered apart. I didn’t need drugs to make the events clear inside my head. They’d never disappeared in the days and years that followed.

  “It’s interesting that you should phrase it that way; especially because it fits so well with my theory about your condition.”

  “What’s wrong with me, Doc?”

  “Jeremy.”

  I laughed. “Fine. Jeremy.” My thighs tightened together when his name rolled off my lips. Still floating, I moved my hands through the air wondering when and if I’d ever feel heavy again.

  “What I want to access most inside you is not your conscious memory or your thoughts, but something much deeper than that. I want to explore your sensory memory, the feelings and sensations, habits and patterns that your brain has recorded and preserved in the time since the accident occurred. The only reason I’m taking you back to the accident is in an attempt to jumpstart your psyche. You’re in a safe place and I’ll be with you every step of the way. Do you understand?”

  I did understand, but I still jumped when I felt his warm hands wrap around mine. Pulling my hands from my lap, he held on and I could feel the pulse of his blood running through his fingers. It was an amazing feeling, the coming together of two bodies, the exchange of heat and sensation. After a short period of time I swore that our hearts beat in unison.

  “Relax against the seat, Alex, and let’s begin…

  Quiet seconds passed until I’d become so attuned to my environment I could hear the air pushing out of the AC vents in the walls. The color red blushed over my eyelids, creating a warm and comforting place.

  “Think back to the day of your accident, Alex. Take me to the last place you remember being before getting into the car that day.”

  Like a movie playing before my eyes, a picture appeared. Fuzzy at first, it came into focus revealing the warm terra cotta colored walls of my family home.

  “I’m at my house. I’m banging on my mom’s door because we’re going to be late meeting my friends.” Looking away from the door, I blinked to see Jeremy standing beside me in the memory.

  “Wait, something’s wrong, you weren’t there.” Still trapped in the memory of that day, I felt pulled in two: a part of me seeing the memory while my physical self pulled away from him in the therapy room. He gripped his hands around mine tighter holding them in place as he spoke.

  “I’m here with you now, but try not to focus on that. I’m only an observer. Your contact with me is only a means of pulling you out if a memory is too disturbing. For now, I want you to let go and tell me everything you remember.”

  His image disappeared in the hall and I took a steadying breath, returning to a place that I hadn’t seen in years.

  . . .

  “Mom! We have to get going. I’m going to be late!”

  “Not in that costume, young lady. You need to change.” My mom walked up behind me in the hall, startling me because I’d thought she’d been in her room.

  Turning to look towards her, I asked, “Where’s dad?”

  She smirked as her eyes took in the tight white shirt and short grey pleated skirt I’d chosen to wear that afternoon. “He’s who you’re hearing in the bedroom and you should be glad about that. If he saw you in whatever it is that you’re wearing, he’d have a heart attack. Where did you get those clothes?”

  Angry that she was judging the way I was dressed, I spit out, “I borrowed them from Cheyenne since you won’t let me buy anything like the other girls are wearing. We’re not Amish, mom.”

  Smirking again with the expression of a woman who thought she knew better than me, she crossed her arms over her chest and shot out her knee. It was a stance that told me I was fighting a losing battle, the stance that all moms took when they were about to pull rank to win.

  “As long as you’re living under my roof, young lady, you’ll wear what I think is appropriate and that skirt…” She scoffed. “You won’t be able to bend over in that without giving every person in the mall a peek at your bottom.”

  “Why would I bend over? I’ll squat.” I crossed my arms back at her, taking the same stance in an effort to assert my authority over myself. I was seventeen years old and I was sick of being treated like a child.

  “Mom! Every girl…”

  “You are far too young to be traipsing around dressed like a prostitute, Alexandra Marie Sutton, and I suggest you take your mother’s advice and go change right this second.” My dad stepped out of their bedroom, shutting the door silently behind him as he took his position behind my mother. His black hair was styled neatly into place and his normally warm brown eyes were darkened with anger.

  My father was not the type o
f man most people would willingly go up against. Intelligent and strong, he was a force to be reckoned with, a warrior of both mind and body. But I was not any person and I had no problems arguing with him. I was, after all, a product of him and it made sense that I would eventually become his equal.

  “But we’re already late!” I screamed.

  Stepping around my mother, he towered over me, waving his finger in my face as he gave me his last warning. “And keep up that nasty attitude of yours and you’ll never make it to the mall. What will you tell your friends then?”

  “Fine!” I threw my arms out in front of me before spinning on my heel and stomping back to my bedroom. As soon as I shut the door, I moved across the room to the closet.

  A familiar male voice filtered into my thoughts carried on haunting waves of sound. “What friends are you meeting, Alex?”

  Flicking on the light, I jumped to see Jeremy standing inside the closet. “What the…?”

  “What are the names of your friends?” He asked with pen and notebook in hand.

  “Cheyenne, Connie, Sam, Linda and Bobby. Why?”

  “Bobby who?” He didn’t look up from the paper, the tip of his pen moving furiously over its surface.

  “Bobby Arrington. He’s my boyfriend.”

  As if dissipating into thin air on a wisp of smoke he was gone, the haunting quality of his voice fading as he said, “Continue.”

  After grabbing a pair of skinny jeans, I stripped the skirt off my legs and replaced it with the dark washed denim that I hoped my parents would view as ‘appropriate.’ It was bullshit. Both of them still thought of me as a young virgin to be kept safe in some stupid ivory tower. What they didn’t know was that I’d lost my virginity to Bobby a long time ago.

  Storming back into the hall, I overheard my father whispering to my mother. Creeping up, I didn’t turn the corner to let them know I was there.

  “She’s not acting this way because of what happened when she was five, Christine. She doesn’t remember the boy or the incident and I highly doubt that it’s somehow causing her to act out now. The doctors said she was fine and that it was perfectly natural for her not to remember.”