Tied Down // h.s.

five

My eyes shot open and I sat up. I looked around the room. I noticed the familiarity my mind had with the small room. From the shaggy walls, to the metallic bars that locked me in this room, to the uncomfortable bed I was on.

My head felt like it was ten pounds heavier and my eyes ached. My brain pulsated. 

My hand rose and made contact with the side of my neck. The skin was warm and soft, but it was tender. I felt around the several ballpoint pen sized marks that had penetrated my skin. They were beginning to heal and scab over. It was like it had never occurred.

The eyes of mine wandered around the small room. No clock. My mind could not comprehend what time of day it was, or even how many days I had been passed out. I laid my aching body back down onto the mattress and felt groggy as my head hit the pillow.

I closed my eyes tight and controlled my breathing, trying to find something within my brain that would give me information as to why I was the one who was being injected with a substance against my own will.

They had looked at my medical history, of course, because this is a mental institution, but why threaten me? Why bring a woman that I had never seen before to ask me questions? Was this all apart of my treatment plan that they were not telling me about? I rose my hands above my face. There was an evident tremor. I sighed and put them back down. What was this drug doing to me? What was the motive?

Turning in the bed, putting the covers up over my body, I began to think about my new schedule. Why was I put into a new routine the same day that I would become a laboratory rat? My thoughts wandered to how everyone seemed to have a copy of someone's file if they knew they would have the person within their possession. The way that he openly passed out my information to everyone in front of me, without him caring

A hot and warm feeling took over my body, but at the same time, I wanted to sob. Where was my family? Who was I before I entered this fucking institution? "I just want to go home," I mumbled to myself in the darkness of my room. I put my hand on my neck again, feeling the puncture wounds. In order to finally come to terms with the reason I put myself into the place, I needed to read the words from the file myself.

"Styles."

The word echoed throughout my room. I almost jumped at the sound of hearing my name. Sitting up, I heard them call it again. "Styles, it's time for you to go to your art session. You've had plenty of time to sleep," a guard said outside of my room. I glared at him and pushed the blanket off of me and walked towards the door, the small chain of the handcuffs clinking together.

He gave me a quick smile and opened the heavy door for me to follow him. I obliged and walked beside him, still feeling my whole body ache. The hallways were dark and musky, surrounding myself with another layer of hopelessness. It was suffocating me. And it would soon probably take me.

"Being the stubborn one doesn't always get you where you want it, now does it, Harry?"

My eyebrows furrowed in reaction to the question he had asked. Him knowing what they were doing to me was not surprising. How could he not know? Everyone wanted to kiss Mr. Kean's ass if it meant a pay raise, promotion, or just getting on his good side. They were all good little dogies waiting in line to get a pat on the head by the big man himself.

I said nothing as we continued our way towards the art room. Our footsteps accompanied the moans and groans of the surrounding patients locked in their rooms. The trickling of a leaking pipe echoed throughout the hall. He let out a chuckle. "Harry Styles, you're learning to bite your tongue. That's a good thing around here. I'm pretty sure you're finding that out. It took you long enough."

When we reached the room, I was let in again by the same guards and stepped forth inside of what would be the second time in my life. The sound of the door closing behind me caused the woman to turn around from her desk as she sat on he chair. "Mr. Styles, you're a bit late again. You're welcome to go ahead and sit in the back."

I glanced back towards the seat I sat at the first time that I had attended. My feet trudged down the aisle as I glanced at the people already sitting down at the desks. They were using markers to draw what seemed like whatever they wanted onto a piece of colored paper. I shrugged at the idea and sat down on my chair, my chains clanking together, ringing throughout the quiet room.

Drawing on the paper wasn't the biggest pain in the ass as anyone would imagine. I tapped the end of my marker on the table, wondering what to draw as the time passed by. I glanced again around the room. There were about a dozen others here. The walls were covered with what seemed like the past patients' work.

My eyes made their way through the room until they reached the desk the woman was sitting at. Her eyes were concentrated on the pieces of paper she had out in front of her. Her eyebrows furrowed in what looked like confusion and agitation. I did know what that felt like. I raised my eyebrow skeptically as she flipped through them, looking confused by what she was seeing. Or was it from what she was not seeing?

She sighed and looked at the room in front of her. I quickly diverted my eyes back to my piece of paper. The middle aged woman quickly stood up and announced something that was foreign to my ears. "Alright, I will be back as soon as I can. I will be locking the door. Everyone stay where they are I will be right back." She quickly made her way out of the room. The sound of her heels filled the room. And surely enough, the click of the door locking followed as soon as the door closed. Everyone seemed to be unsure of what to do as they sat there quietly. I guessed that they didn't hear those sentences much in their time spent here either.

My eyes left the other patients and wandered to the bottom shelf at the front of the room that hung on the wall by her desk. It was the same one that held a single file on it as I had seen the first time I was here. The other shelf above it held multiple. I scrunched up my face. That was indeed still peculiar.

And then it was like my heart convulsed.

The file.

All I needed was to read my file. It was risky as fucking hell, yes. This would answer what was wrong with me and who I was and what I had done and-

I scoped through the room once again, trying to hear what was also going out in the hallway as well. Before I knew it, I was walking up towards the front of the room, my chains rustling as my hands were locked together, forever in front of my body. I could feel the eyes of the others burning holes into my body from their persistent stares.

I had a feeling in the pit of stomach. It was the feeling of anxiety and uncertainness. I pushed them aside. My curiosity was far more important. My life was far more important.

My hand grasped the file and I placed it on the surface of the desk. As I opened it, the pages spoke to me. There was my name, date of birth, height and my age. My eyes continued to scan the page, hungry for what I may find. I furrowed my eyebrows, tracing the words with my finger. I had came to a section that I had never heard about me in my entire life.

"The patient, Harry Edward Styles, has not yet been diagnosed with a disorder. Following trial, he had been sent to Riverside Mental Institution for further testing. Mr. Styles and his defense attorney, Robert R. Micoid, are currently filing for an appeal against the verdict-"

My eyes widened. The sound of footsteps approaching the entrance from the hallway began to flood my eardrums. My coarse hands quickly pushed the papers into the folder and sat it upon the dusty shelf. My heart raced. If I was caught going through papers, I was not sure what would happen to me. The unknown was something that made fear raise up into my throat.

As I sat down into my chair, I shoved the hair out of my face and tried to remain as calm as possible. Just then, the door unlocked and in came the woman. She held a small smile on her face and her hand held a piece of paper. She sat down in her chair and looked at all of us.

"I am back now. No need to worry. Now, let me see what you all have come up with."

The small smile she had on her face made me uncomfortable. What the hell was it about that piece of paper made her happy? Her golden brown eyes looked around the room, seeming to want to make everyone feel included, and when they locked with mine, her smile got even bigger.

Hope you all are enjoying! Thank you for reading. - jay