Escape

Isolation

Slowly I regain consciousness. I groan, a pounding headache behind my eyes, hell bent on exploding from my skull. My hands search for upwards motion, desperately needing to rub away the searing pain of a thousand hangovers. Which apparently is possible to get, even if you're lucky enough not to experience the fun part of drinking yourself into oblivion. And.......looks like I've won the lotto again. It seems that my hands are pinned down. Opening my eyes is near impossible, but I need to get a look at the dumbass who thought it was a good idea to get between my hands and my head. Glaring at the sudden light, I realize that that someone is something, a pair of soft cuffs encircling not only my wrists, but my ankles as well. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," I say to myself, "how could you possibly get yourself locked up in solitary again?!"

"If I remember correctly, it was probably kicking that dreamy orderly in the shin, just for kicks. Haha, get it?! 'Cause you kicked him? Nevermind, I'm obviously not in my best form today. What is his name again? Ah yes, Jason."

I turn my head, my eyes wide, dumbfounded to see this stranger sitting on the barred windowsill. "Who the hell are you?" I whisper, wondering how anyone could get in here without the hospital's express permission, and if she had their permission, what was going to happen to me.

"Oh honey, you should really stop using such language, you know that Jason doesn't approve. If you ever stand a chance in snatching up that hunk of a man, you should watch your mouth more carefully. Anyways, enough of this chitter-chatter, I'm a figment of your imagination darling! I must say, even if the rest of your brain is completely jumbled up, it did a fine job of creating me."

I stared, then burst out laughing. "You must be an actress, right? The hospital sent you, so I'd finally give in to my diagnosis! You almost had me too. You can go home now, feel free to put teasing the nut job on your resume though!"

She smiled sadly, "Oh sweetheart, how I wish I was an actress. Sadly, noone's paying me for this gig. I'm sure it'd be good money though. They'd have to pay enough so the story wouldn't get out and tarnish their reputation. Alas, life is not quite that simple. I'm still a hallucination. Or to be more specific, your hallucination."

"But, b-but, I'm not schizophrenic! I can't be hallucinating! This is wrong, you're wrong, you're lying!" I look straight into the camera that adorns the room, a silent watcher, the red blinking light mocking me of my insanity. "How can you do this to me!" I scream, "I'm not crazy! How could you do this to me?!" I break down, the tears flooding down my face now, me trying, even fighting, to deny the truth in front of me.

"Well you've done it now, honey. They'll be coming in soon. Probably best not to tell them of our encounter if you ever want to get out of here. Don't worry though, we'll be sure to speak again soon." She blows me a kiss as my body fights against my bonds, as my brain fights against my eyes and my beliefs. My convulsions even out as the last of the sedative left in my body knocks me out for the second time.

I'm not sure how much time has passed when my eyes flicker open the second time, but the woman's gone. Was it all just a dream? Or has my illness finally started to truly show? Or maybe she really was a hired actress, meant to get me to stop fighting. Just give up and accept everything that has been thrown at me. I wouldn't put it past Dr. Fresdit to concoct up something like that. He takes pleasure in other people's pain, but we all do to some degree I guess. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. The door to my whitened cell is opened, displaying the snarky face of my mortal enemy. Dr. Fresdit. "Well I see your finally up," he says like it's my fault I was given a sedative....oh wait, it was. Anyways, it's still a stupid observation.

"I'm laying down asshole, I'm not 'up' in any definition of the word. You should really go back to school and leave the doctoring to someone who has, you know, passed elementary school." He stays silent, sitting down in the singular navy blue chair in the room, writing something down in his ever-present notebook. I swear, if I ever get ahold of that thing, I would burn it to ashes. I mean that would be way more fun if he were still attached to it, but beggars can't be choosers.