A strange desire was cast upon my being early that evening, a delirious and demonic desire that only few would get. I portrayed that of a feeble, harmless sort, not willing to hurt others; but this was different- my intentions were different that day, and I didn't know why.
As I stumbled, drunk on gin and tonic, along the hallway, a protruding carpet attempted to trip me; of course, it succeeded and I landed flat on my face, my nose bleeding a dark, velvety-red substance, that of blood. Gathering myself together, I staggered to my feet, a crisp shard of glass puncturing my skin, yet another flow of blood streaming from me. I felt faint.
***
I awoke after, what seemed like, a few hours later in a room that contained no doors or no windows. It was just a plain room. A room in which all four walls were made of white plastic.
Was I dreaming?
I pinched myself and cried out in distress. Okay, I certainly wasn't dreaming.
Where was I, I thought, as I pondered on what could have possibly happened to me.
It was that quiet that I could hear the steady flow of flood rushing through my head, my head seemed to throb, it was unsettlingly quiet. I felt deranged, paranoid, almost. It was as if I was in a psychiatric ward with no one to comfort me, everyone constantly observing me as if I was some sort of project, as if I was an experimental figure. Almost instantaneously, I felt as if I was being surveyed for information.
I was a 34 year old man and, to say that I had finished University with the highest degree possible in both psychology and psychiatry, I had no idea what was going on.
