A Twisted Romance

Chapter 5

This has come months late because I am suffering from writer's block. 

Chapter 5    

I sat in my assigned room with a pounding headache and “torn to shreds” heart. I could not handle the words that my psychiatrist had spat at me. She hated me with a heated passion and I knew that going back to her for evaluation would rip me apart. I could remember her rage filled eyes staring at me as she told me about the girl I had murdered. The truth was- I couldn’t remember her… not her name- not even her face so how could I have killed her. How could I have grabbed a knife and jammed it into her chest a number of 68 times? I had never been strong enough for anything, how could I have been strong enough to do that to a girl. My brain throbbed as I remembered the images she had thrown on the table in front of me. So graphic they were but I couldn’t get myself to look away. The girl in the picture was sprawled on the floor, her chest and blonde hair coated with blood. Her face was purple with bruises and her clothes hung off her body in shreds.

No matter how much I had tried to deny it, my psychiatrist was dead set on pounding it into my head. I had done that… I had brutally murdered a girl.

         I remember demanding a name so I could put a face to my “victim” but she wouldn’t give it to me. She kept on reminding me that it was good that I was showing remorse but took her kind words back by informing me that murderers like me could not have the pleasure of rolling our victim’s names off our tongues.

If my psychiatrist hated me so much, the whole world should have hated me a whole lot more.

A silent drip tore me away from my thoughts forcing me to look down at my straightjacket. I must have been crying for hours because part of it was wet with tears. Trembling, I pushed my head to the right and wiped the tears left on my face onto my shoulder. I tried to remember the last time I had cried so much but I couldn’t. It seemed like my whole life had been wiped out of my mind... I had no memories of my life before and no names to remind me of the life that I had lived before.

                                                    *********************

“Wake up, wake up.”

I opened my eyes to the sight of Tom. He was standing above me kicking me in my side with a heavy shoe as he cursed under his breath. Without his help, I pushed myself up and sat upright, greatly needing to rub my sleepy eyes.

“Time for your shower.” He yelled, before bending over and grabbing my bony arms. I could feel my bones protest- bruising under his violent act but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t wince or ask him to let me go because I was sure that I had no say in the way I was handled. I had murdered a girl and this was my punishment. As long as I was a prisoner behind those walls, I had to swallow my mistreatment.

Tom dragged me through the awfully familiar corridor. I felt weak, my knees wobbled and I thought I’d pass out any minute. However the realisation that Tom would drag me even in a state of unconsciousness tried to wake my energy. I pushed my shoulders back and breathed in and out to strengthen my bones…… It didn’t work but I kept at it, hoping and praying that I could stay conscious.

Once I was showered with no dignity at all and shoved back into my straightjacket, I returned to my room to find Jackie standing with a plate of food in her hands. Without any care in the world, Tom pushed me through the door and banged it behind me. I fell flat on my face and struggled to get up.

 In a swift motion, Jackie turned me over and pushed me into a sitting position. Her face was pulled into a frown as she murmured “oh dear oh dear oh dear” a number of times.

“Wh-” Before I could complete my question, I felt a warm liquid travel from my nose. When I looked down, I was horrified to see a pool of blood dyeing my clothes. Jackie was quick in action pushing my head back and gently cleaning my nose with a soft material. I could not get myself to look down at what she was using because I was trembling with fear. The sight of blood had brought out a certain fear in me. It reminded me of the girl in the pictures and it almost... almost drove me to tears but I bit down hard at my tongue to control myself. I could not cry... somehow I knew that if I did, it would show a sign of weakness; something I couldn’t afford.

“Do you feel any pain?” Jackie asked. There was worry in her voice but I could not understand it. She had been so nice to me from the moment she had met me and it bothered me. I was almost certain that people who worked in mental hospitals knew the history of every patient.

“Why are you being nice to me?” I questioned her. My voice came out quite nasal and it hurt when I spoke. My head was still held back and it made me feel dizzy.

“If I’m not nice to you? Who will be?” is all she said to me. I did not ask her anymore questions as she moved from working on my bleeding nose to feeding me my meal. Her comment had rubbed me the wrong way because I knew that I didn’t deserve anyone’s kindness after what I had done. I was beginning to believe that I was a monster.

ALL PATIENTS REPORT TO THE COMMON ROOM... YOUR VISITORS WILL SHORTLY BE ARRIVING.

I stopped chewing as the announcement ran again... blaring through the walls. Jackie must have noticed my reaction because she looked at me with a sad expression.

“What does that mean?” I asked her.

She wavered for a tick before she replied. “Many patients get to see their families today.”

“Families?” I asked.

 It was like something had struck me… right then I could remember my family... my mother, father and my siblings. I had a family. My eyes snapped towards Jackie with hope but the look on her face made me drop it. “My family will come right?” I asked, feeling an unpleasant chill going down my spine.

“No.” She said, looking down at the plate of food in her hands. My eyes instantly filled with tears at her words. They wouldn’t visit... why wouldn’t they visit? Then I recalled what I had done. How could they visit after what I had done? They must have been ashamed of me... they must have hated me with every ounce of their being.

 “I’m not hungry anymore.” I mentally pushed away the plate of food and dropped to my left side. It hurt but I didn’t care… my life was meaningless. No one cared about me and even worse, I hated myself more than one could.