SUSY Asylum

by Michael Pierce

  TJ locked himself back in his stall, determined to finish what he’d started.

  26

  The News

  I awoke to the sound of the television. It was most likely nighttime, but hard to tell with the city lights flooding in through the window.

  I cringed at the television screen at first, an involuntary reflex from the screens in the asylum. The volume was low and I almost had to strain to hear it—but maybe it was a normal volume and my hearing had been permanently damaged.

  I moved my arms to stretch, but the bite and confinement quickly reminded me of how they were shackled in place. They were terribly sore from the locked position. Under the bandages wrapping my right hand and leg, my irritated skin itched. But there was nothing I could do about either one except block out the annoyance.

  There were commercials on the television, commercials for products and services I’d never heard of. Then the news came on and the reporter reviewed a story from earlier in the day and then cut to a previously recorded press conference.

  Alexandria Lorne stood before a bouquet of microphones, with cameras flashing all around her. She announced that Kafka would be returning to the public eye soon and he would like to express his sincere gratitude and appreciation for all the outpouring of well wishes and condolences sent to the family during this difficult time.

  A shiver ran through me like an electric current at the thought of Kafka back from the dead—really back from the dead. The thought of Alexandria and Kafka, together, in a plot against me turned the current into bolts of lightning. And they weren’t even my immediate concern. I currently had Nero to tend with, who was probably ironically keeping me safe from the Lornes at the moment.

  Alexandria produced one of her radiant smiles, beaming for the crowd, and tucked a lock of her white hair behind her ear as she waited to answer questions from reporters.

  “Doctor Lorne, how do you respond to allegations of secret experimentation going on within your Outer Provex City Medical Facility?” a reporter boldly asked.

  Her expression turned cold, and for a second I saw the Lorne in her eyes, but she softened and answered gracefully. “I dismiss rumors as such. Mr. Martin, is it? I invite you to take a full tour of my facility yourself. You will see there are no secret torture chambers.” She smiled sweetly to the people in awe of her. But I saw the grin for what it really was—predatory.

  “What about the situation that occurred last week? It was documented that several alleged patients—”

  Alexandria wasted no time in cutting him off, but did so professionally and politely. “Excuse me, Mr. Martin. It is true we had to sedate a few disturbed patients that happened to break away from our regimented care. They are recovering from the reaction to their energy medication. Those few patients did react unpredictably from care that had previously proven successful, thus resulting in the outburst you speak of. But I assure you, Mr. Martin, no ill fate befell them. They are doing quite well. Next question, please.”

  I think she was talking about us. Had we only been locked in the asylum for a week? It had felt like months. Alexandria and her doctors manipulated time with the way they cycled through the lights and kept knocking me out that I had no way of telling.

  The television turned off under its own power, leaving me in shadows, the only light coming from the window. The apartment was silent. The door leading to the rest of the apartment was still opaque.

  I was startled when the bathroom light turned on. A few moments later, the toilet flushed, the sink faucet turned on and off, and then the light was extinguished. Strangely, when the water was turned on, it didn’t sound like it was pouring into a porcelain sink, but into a pool of water.

  “Hello?” I called out into the darkness. I saw no shadow emerge from the bathroom. No sounds from someone still in the bathroom or standing inconspicuously in the room. Had I found a new ghost? Or was this someone who lived in the apartment on the other side?

  I watched the doorway to the bathroom for a long time. No one came out.

  My weakened state allowed me to finally fall asleep, which was anything but peaceful. I awoke in cold sweats several times throughout the night from recurring nightmares, the place in the story held for me each time I awoke and slumbered. Another time I awoke to the same sequence of events happening in the bathroom. The light turned on, the toilet flushed, the sink turned on and off, and the light turned off.

  “Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?” I asked to the darkness again. But I received no reply. No sound. No movement. I shivered from the unknown.

  I awoke again to the morning light radiating off the opposite building and shining into my room. I guess there was a visible difference between day and night from my window after all.

  Nero was setting up his tubes and needles, pricked me in the arm, secured the needle with tape, and attached himself to the other end of the second tube. He collapsed contently into the chair against the wall.

  “I’ll bring you some breakfast afterward,” he said with closed eyes and his head resting against the wall.

  “What are you doing to me?”

  “Essence extraction,” he said softly. “It is what keeps us in prime condition for—for a long time.”

  “For not having much experience here, you sure seem to know what you’re doing.”

  “Instinct. There are some things you are inherently programmed to do and know. This is one of those things. I don’t expect you to understand and I can’t explain it. It just is.” Nero enunciated the last three words. There was a quiet, yet ominous tone to his voice.

  I felt what he described as my life essence being sucked out of me, draining me of all life essentials—leaving me like a shallowly breathing corpse.

  “It feels like you’re killing me,” I said, barely audible.

  “It may feel like it, but I’m not. I can’t kill you without killing myself. That’s why I can’t pass you off to someone else. Because they will kill you. I will keep you alive, you have my word.”

  But his word meant very little to me at this point. I felt so drained and hollowed out that I almost wished he would kill me.

  Nero disconnected himself from the tube and yanked the needle out of my arm. He took the tubes and needles into the bathroom without turning on the light. Again, I heard the sloshing of water. He returned moments later with the tubes and needles cleaned and placed them in the nightstand drawer.

  “I will fix you some breakfast,” Nero said, stepping into the bathroom again, and left the room holding a plastic bucket half filled with water sloshing over the edge as he walked.

  I was too weak to move, to fight against my restraints, and lay helplessly like an animal waiting for the slaughter—only, unlike an animal, I knew that’s where I was headed. Nero said he would keep me alive. But it wouldn’t be forever, and so death was the next natural step. I just wished he’d make it quick.

  Nero strolled back into the room with a sandwich of only bread and meat, and a lightly pink glass of water. It had to be the water from the bucket—the water he’d cleaned the tubes and needles with. I almost vomited at the sight of it. With the thought of where the water had come from, I couldn’t bring myself to touch the sandwich, either.

  I shook my head when he brought the sandwich to my mouth. We repeated the sequence with the water.

  “You need to eat and drink something,” he demanded. “Otherwise I’ll have to resort to intravenous nourishment.”

  It didn’t matter. I still couldn’t touch what he’d brought.

  Nero exited the room without saying another word. My shoulders, arms, and hands ached from being tied above my head for a full day. But at least I knew it had been a day. The window gave me a rudimentary sense of time.

  A few minutes later, the radio beside the bed turned on. It remained on for half a song and turned off. I craned my neck for a moment and could just barely see the time, but it was painful to remain in that position. My head fell back onto the pillow. The main light in the
room, attached to the ceiling, turned on. Then I heard the click of the bathroom light turning on. The television turned on and the channels changed a few times, and then stopped. The volume increased, but steadied at a comfortable level. The news again. The shower turned on and my room was fully alive with unseen activity.

  27

  A Wolf among Sheep

  I felt like I never truly slept, I just slipped in and out of consciousness throughout the day and night. Sometimes I awoke and it was light, and sometimes dark. Sometimes I awoke to the television turning itself on, sometimes light and noise from the bathroom. Sometimes I awoke from the prick of a needle as Nero hooked me up to his life-draining machine. And sometimes I awoke from total disorientation, not knowing if what I was experiencing was real or a prolonged nightmare. The total weakness and exhaustion made the environment around me dreamlike and abstract.

  I had stinging wounds from the needle all over my body at this point; Nero never seemed to insert it in the same place twice. And in between his feedings, he fed me intravenously from a bag of clear liquid.

  When I told him that I needed to use the bathroom, he made me wait until after an extraction—when I was at my weakest. He unlocked the handcuffs, helped me to the bathroom, and instructed me to sit on the toilet no matter what, so I wouldn’t fall. The toilet wouldn’t flush. The faucet didn’t work. When I was done, I could only wash my hands in the half-filled bucket of pink water sitting in the sink, the same water he gave me to drink.

  I felt like I was barely being kept alive. There was no use in fighting my restraints. It was hopeless in trying to pass through them. I could barely move. I could barely think. All I could feel was pain and loss, like there were no other feelings in the world.

  I looked at Frolics, staring at me from the dresser across the room. The television behind him was quiet. The entire room was asleep, which brought a small sense of momentary peace. I wished I could hold him again just to have some strange connection to family, even though he was a Frolics I didn’t remember. Just having the small stuffed animal in my hands would help me not to feel so entirely alone in this terrible place.

  Then Frolics leaned and fell forward, toppling headfirst off the dresser and out of sight.

  I didn’t know it was possible to feel even more alone until that moment. I sighed, closed my eyes with the hope of falling asleep so my agony and desolation could be extinguished for a short while.

  When I reopened my eyes, Frolics was staring at me again from atop the dresser, and I wondered if I’d dreamed him falling to the floor.

  I readjusted myself on the bed and felt the instant shock of having a needle in my body. It dug into my side, the tube protruding from the bottom of my pale green shirt. I looked over to find Nero sitting comfortably in his chair.

  “I returned your friend to his home,” Nero said.

  “What?”

  He pointed to the dresser and I quickly caught up. “I thought you’d find comfort in a friend watching over you since you probably don’t regard me as such anymore.”

  “What gave it away?” I said.

  “That’s okay. I don’t blame you. I’d feel the same way if I was on the other end of the tube. It’s not personal. It’s nature working in the mysterious way she does. I don’t want to do this to you. I have to. It’s programmed into me—no use resisting. Do you get upset at the lion for eating the gazelle? A killer whale for killing a seal? The wolves for attacking the sheep? Each animal has to accept its place in the world.”

  “I’m not a sheep,” I said softly.

  “Says the boy in chains,” Nero said matter-of-factly.

  I strained to ball my bandaged right hand into a fist, remembering the wolf head that Desiree had drawn (maybe not this last time, but originally).

  Hold still, she had said. If you move, then it won’t come out right. We’ve only got one shot at this.

  Yes, Ma’am, I had answered obediently.

  I remembered looking at my newly tattooed hand after washing the beaded paste away. In that moment, I was a Lorne. And when I used it for the first time in the restaurant and saw the fear it instilled in the hostess, I felt powerful.

  Now, chained to the bed, I felt like I could barely lift a finger, using all the energy I had just to speak a few words. But I could not accept that I was a sheep and Nero was a wolf. He wasn’t the Lorne—I was!

  Frolics plummeted head first off the dresser again.

  Nero stood, with the tube still hanging from his arm, staring at the dresser.

  I glanced at him with a small sense of satisfaction, and then returned my gaze to the Frolics-less dresser.

  “Did you do that?” Nero whispered.

  “We are wolves among sheep.”

  “We?”

  “We are wolves among sheep,” I said again. Kafka had said that to me, and I pictured the intensity in his eyes as he had said the words.

  I saw the first hint of fear in Nero’s eyes since he’d brought me here. He hastily packed up the tubes and needles, this time without cleaning them, and left the room.

  I had done it! I had pushed Frolics off the edge in my mind. It wasn’t graceful like what Mr. Gordon could do, but it awoke a knowing—the shattering of my current perspective.

  “Nero!” I yelled and found I had some hidden strength after all. And it felt good. All the pain and weakness was still there, but it didn’t account for everything. I was more. I had strength stored deep within the recesses of my mind and it could be transferred into physical strength with a firm decision. My revelation lit a spark, which was all I needed—because it only takes a spark to ignite a wildfire.

  I heard Desiree’s voice in my head again and I tried to picture what memory was surfacing now. I touched the bandage on my right hand as a trigger. It stirred no stored memories.

  Her voice was merely a whimper, and it felt like more than just a memory. I could feel what she was feeling. It was faint and unclear, but it was there—she was there.

  The more I concentrated on her voice, the more I could feel how weak she was, how trapped and helpless, and then I knew she was here somewhere. She was feeling the same as I was, and there was only one explanation for that. Her mirror had her, too, and she was looking at a grim fate of an eternity of helplessness and misery. But how did she get here?

  Desiree’s voice motivated me. I focused on her sweet whimper and knew there was no one but myself who could help her. I had no choice but to escape and…I. Knew. That. I. Could.

  I looked intently at the dresser across from my bed, focusing on the spot Frolics had sat. Then he popped into view, rose past the iron footboard, and floated up to the top of the dresser where he was set back on his original perch.

  Had I done that?

  My heart raced from simultaneous fear and excitement. The power to be able to do that, as small as it was, was awesome. And promising. Now, all I needed to do was slip through my shackles.

  Nero barged back into the room wearing heavy utility-type gloves and holding a coiled strand of barbed wire. His lips were pulled into a straight line and he didn’t say a word.

  “You’re not going to hold me here for long,” I said as he began to wrap me in a tight cocoon of barbed wire—lacing it through iron rings on the bed frame.

  Rows of teeth dug into my skin. The more I moved, the more they bit down. I cried out, but held back tears.

  “These aren’t going to hold me,” I proclaimed, tears stinging my eyes. But I wouldn’t allow them to fall.

  “They’ll hold,” he said, and when he finished wrapping, he pressed down on my chest and stomach with both hands, pushing the teeth deeper into me.

  When Nero stood up straight and took a step back, he waited a moment to see what I’d do.

  I couldn’t move—the pain was excruciating. I glared at him with my teeth chattering and grinding. Even when I balled my fists, the movement in my arms pulled the teeth through my skin. I relaxed my hands and attempted to lie still.

  “It’l
l hold,” he said again, more as a confirmation to himself than to me.

  Nero set up the tubes and needles, crusted from the last use, and hooked us both up to the hanging bag. He stuck the first needle in my shoulder, and the second in his forearm, and took a seat beside the nightstand.

  Nothing happened.

  Nero jumped up and hit the box on the pole, but it wasn’t turning on. He ripped the needle out of his arm and hurried out of the room. Returning moments later, he replaced four batteries behind a snap-in panel on the side of the box, and the small screen lit up. Nero breathed a sigh of relief and dropped into the chair with the needle before sinking it back into his arm.

  Blood pulled from my end of the tube and flowed into the bag. Nero’s tube began to fill as the blood traveled toward his arm.

  I tried to block out the pain from the additional barbed wire. My shirt was now almost completely purple from soaking up the blood from the rows of teeth digging into me. I tried not to think of the blood leaving my body.

  No! Come back to me!

  I felt myself growing weaker and weaker as the essence of my being drained through a single tube, leaving me no more than a shriveled shell, barely alive, not dead…just on the verge of existence.

  Pull!

  I couldn’t hear Desiree’s voice any longer. She had slipped away and I fought with everything I had left to pull her back to me.

  Pull!

  I felt myself slipping away, the agony slowly turning to apathy.

  No!

  And I fought to pull it back—myself back.

  Pull!

  Nero glanced over at me, wide-eyed and anxious. “What are you doing?”

  I didn’t answer, I just continued to pull—everyone and everything I loved, back to me. And it made me feel a little better. I felt a little stronger. A little more alive, awake, in love, impatient, in pain, impassioned, in charge, in control…

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as everything I felt like I’d lost flowed back into me. If this was another drug, it was one I welcomed.