In My Heart the Will

Zola

Chapter 1: Zola: Brevis esse latoro obscurus fio

Every news article on my wall stood for something. The wall across from my bed had ones that stood for the days I had been here. To its right was the wall with the door in and out and the articles on that stood for the conversations I had with people the staff here had called ‘fake’ ,’delusions’, and ‘hallucinations’. Then to the right of that wall where my bed was were ones that represented the dreams I had and then the final wall’s articles were examples of the conspiracies going on outside. They involved the corrupt agencies of the world as well as the people that had put me in here in the first place. I had adapted to the rituals here and after awhile of allowing myself to conform to them I stopped being able to see my numbers and patterns. I was no longer able to use my decoding abilities. Before long I knew that I would end up like the other victims of knowing too much... complete zombification.

Either way I looked at it, I was doomed. If I didn’t take my medication I was stuck here but if I did take my medication I would lose my sight, the people I cared about, and probably even my life. At times this realization would make me cry myself to sleep and other times I would cry because I felt that my friends had already been taken over by the wars waging out in that boring and ugly world that was given the name of reality.

I had been here since I was eighteen...I am presently twenty. I didn’t know or remember why I was here and I never really cared for the reasons they were always giving me. They were a bunch of liars, zombies, and /or members of one conspiracy or another and I wanted no part of it.

Today I was sitting in my room digging through the newspaper I had gotten in search of anything that went under any of the four categories I mentioned. Today was the worst of them...I couldn’t find my patterns or my numbers at all. Learning this made tears roll down my face, but then I threw the articles, shoved them all off my bed, and screamed with rage holding my head.

I needed out. No one believes a word of what I say and these people are taking everything away from me.

I was talking on the phone with one of the staff at the institute that Jezebel was at when the man there said that it may take more time for her to get a better grip on reality. Her mind was having difficulties getting her back on track and seemed to have thrown out snippets and even some large pieces of information.

Talking with him didn’t seem to be getting me anywhere.

“Lawrence, I need you to drive me somewhere.” I was actually putting on my shoes as I said this.

“Of course, War.” The elderly man replied.

“I think you know where too... there seems to, once again, be something about Fleur’s past that will help me with my latest case and, unfortunately, she resides there. I am also unable to get through to her personal files. I need to talk to her as soon as possible. I’ve been missing her presence, anyways.” I explained without any real need to.

“Very well, then.” Lawrence never really demanded an explanation from me.

Within the hour we were at the institution and I was walking towards the front desk.

“Hello, sir and welcome. How may I help you?” The man behind the desk asked with a smile. For one reason or another, his smile was creepy... as though he belonged here as much as some of the clients here did if not more. I just decided to shrug it off and glance around. I had never been inside such a sterile place before.

“I would like to talk to a Jezebel Shanton. I believe she was institutionalized about two years ago for attempting suicide and having regular hallucinations.” I spoke to the man casually, but his response was not one I was expecting.