different:
not the same as another or each other; unlike in nature, form, or quality
Hospitals weren't my forte. They smelled like alcohol and Purell hand sanitizer. The nurses didn't make eye contact with me. They made it obvious that they were scared of me. Of course they were. I had killed one of their doctors a few years ago. I bit down on my lip, trying to block out the gasps and small screams. It didn't help.
I was led into a room that looked like any other doctor's office. Except the people in there were all gaping at me. Coincidentally the small TV on the wall was showing live news feed from outside of the hospital.
A nurse immediately led Jocelyn Franks and I down a corridor and into yet another room. This one was bigger. It had an MRI machine and the place where they stood behind the glass. An MRI? I was having an MRI?
A doctor appeared from around the corner, a smile on his familiar face. He was supposed to be dead. I thought I had killed him. He must've noticed the look of discomfort on my face, for he nodded knowingly.
"You thought I was dead, right Luke?" Dr. Wells replied.
"I saw you," I hesitated. "You should've died from blood loss."
"Ah, but I'm here now, about to help you," he smiled again. "Granted I should tell you to rot in hell, but I'm a doctor. That's not what I do. I help the sick."
"I'm not sick," I sneered. I didn't like that word. It made me seem like I needed help. I didn't need anyone. I didn't need anything. I was fine.
"I guess we'll find out soon enough," he gestured to the MRI machine where a hospital gown was folded up nicely.
I decided to not argue. Maybe they could help me. After changing, he directed me to lie down on the bed-like platform connected to the MRI machine.
"I'll see you in an hour, Luke Hemmings," Jocelyn Franks still had a worried look on her face. Once she left, the lights lowered and the only sounded was the machine. It sounded like a hammer hitting an anvil. Loud and obnoxious.
I fell asleep eventually. I woke up to hearing Jocelyn Franks and Dr. Wells talking.
"...looks like a chip or something embedded in his limbic system," Dr. Wells was saying. A chip? As in a computer chip? "Judging by the amount of blood vessels that have grown around it, this was placed here when he was a child, a baby, even."
"Well, what does that mean?" Jocelyn Franks asked. "Can you take it out? Is that why he killed people?"
"I can't tell anything other than what looks like is written on it," he replied. "'Experiment '96'. I can't take it out without the risk of him not making it through the surgery."
"'96," I spoke up. "That's the year I was born."
Jocelyn Franks rushed over to me. I was still on the MRI machine's platform, but I was no longer having the MRI.
"How much did you her, Luke?" Jocelyn Franks asked.
"Enough," I sat up, my head pounding. "So someone's been controlling me my whole life?"
"Like I told Jocelyn," Dr. Wells repeated. "I can't tell anything unless we take it out and examine it further. And even if you would make it it may be too late. The chip could've rewired your brain permanently."
"We could try though, right?" I asked, glancing from one of them to the other. "It's not like anyone would miss me if I were to die, right?"
Dr. Wells glanced at Jocelyn Franks, then back at me.
"I guess it's up to you, Luke," Dr. Wells replied.
"I wanna do it," I bit my lip ring. "I wanna have the surgery."
After changing and filling out some paperwork, I was back at the Irwin residence, sitting in my prison cell of a room. Okay, a prison cell with Netflix.
"I heard about that thing in your brain," Calum was suddenly sitting in the desk chair. "Bummer."
"Actually, it's good news," I shrugged. "Now I know I'm not actually crazy."
"Meh, everyone's crazy," Calum put his feet up onto the desk and shrugged. "You should know that by now."
"Why're talking to me?" I laughed. "I mean, I am the spawn of the man who killed you and your mom."
"Doesn't mean you are him," Calum smirked. "Although you are still a dick for killing people."
"Correction: the person behind this computer chip in my brain is a dick," I laughed. "A total dick."
"He's probably a big dick because his dick isn't big," Calum laughed, his face squishing up. I laughed too.
"You're alright, Calum," I stifled laughter. "You know, for a dead guy, that is."
"So are you, Lucas," He replied. "You know, for a serial killer, that is."
YOU ARE READING
Psychopathic
Fanfiction"Some of them beg for their life. I don't feel sad. I don't feel anything." Luke Hemmings is infamous for massacring his entire high school, including a few other people who he didn't particularly like. The entire world knows who he is. The entire w...
