THE VOICES

liar liar;

The hands that grabbed you showed no mercy, like vines, they twisted themselves around your limbs, tightening at every chance they could until they were satisfied they were strangling you. The blue sky above your head had turned grey as you were hoisted into the air and the spirit inside you screamed to keep fighting. Your hands were drowning in blood but you asked yourself if this is truly what you deserved. To be locked away in cuffs and chains for the rest of your life, rotting away into nothing but a shadow.

After the long and painful travel, not knowing where you were going or what was to become of you, here was where you found yourself. Slammed down into a wheelchair, hands and arms strapped down to the legs and wheels enabling you from moving even the slightest bit. Even a leather muzzle tied over your mouth as if you were a rabid dog being taken to the vet to be euthanised. It was exactly how you felt. Like a wild animal.

As you glanced upwards to reveal your fate, there it was, right before your eyes the horror that awaited you.

Broadmoor. The place you wished you would never be taken to, and yet there was no stopping the inevitable, as the wheels of the chair began rolling and you were venturing closer and closer to the entrance. No matter how hard you screamed, the pace never slowed down, and neither did it quicken. You were riding the nightmare that was your life, straight into the pit of doom.

The building smelled exactly how you would have expected it to, old, dusty, mouldy. Like the old people smell at an elderly home. Your breath that ricocheted off of the leather and back down your throat made you want to gag, eyes wide as you looked fiercely around the room as if hoping to find some kind of escape, but to no surprise, there were none. Instead, the windows were barred with thick metal pipes, and the doors had thick wooden slats covering their handles. You felt nothing but trapped.

You were rolled to a front desk, where the man behind the counter looked like something from a horror movie. Old, decked in a blue blouse, a white hat covering what you presumed to be a bald head, his eyes were old and his skin was worn and wrinkled, he looked down at you in pity.

"Name?"

"Starling, Y/N" The officer escorting you around the premises answered.

"Down the hallway, room 18" the man replied, his voice tired and weary like this was the last place on earth he wanted to be, and you could understand why. Without any further communication, you were once again being rolled away down the hallway to the room that was designated for you. Or so you presumed. Upon arrival, the door was opened and you were pushed inside of the cold interior of what looked like an interrogation room. There you sat, patiently waiting in silence for a moment.

Your eyes were glued forward, looking at the soulless wall ahead of you, accompanied by a tiny window at the very top where no one under seven feet could reach it. The silence in the room didn't bother you, it was quite peaceful, and the voice inside your head seemed to agree; choosing to stay silent for the time being. That was until you heard the door handle click, and another person entered the room.

The chair in front of you that was empty for a moment soon became occupied, by someone you had never imagined. The guards behind you tangled with your hair, moving it to the side as they unclipped the muzzle around your mouth. Drool dripped down your chin as it disappeared from your skin, without the leverage to wipe it away you sat there, blood boiling as it continued to travel down your chin.

"You?" you snarled, looking over the table at the woman sitting before you. Never in a million years had you suspected that the woman supposed to be caring for you, the woman who had seen you at your very worst all of these years, Mary... Would be sitting before you, ready to interrogate.