Fear

12 • So many questions

James was by my side again. This time, I was sitting up on the bed nursing my bandaged arm, when he came in asking how I felt. I said I was alright. I guess it was half true. Physically, I felt okay, albeit sore, but mentally, I wasn't so sure. I still had so many questions about everything.

He took a seat beside me on the bed, clipboard in hand. I took a peek at the sheet of paper on it. It had the date, the patient name and number at the top, a small section titled "1-10," and below, a bigger section for session notes.

"Okay," he started, "so, on a scale of one to ten, how are you feeling today?"
I hesitated before responding, "Maybe a six... physically... but mentally... like a three? I just have so many questions."

James nodded, his soft green eyes meeting mine with a patient and understanding look. "Alright, let's start with how you're feeling, and then we can move on to your questions."

I took a deep breath.
"Physically, my arm is really sore. Mentally, though... I don't know... I don't understand what's happening here. What is this place?"

James listened intently, his pen moving swiftly across the paper. He paused for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. "I understand your frustration. This place... it's not easy to understand. But I'm here to help you make sense of it, as much as I can."

"Why did he bring me here? What does he want from me? Why did he even choose me? Out of all the people in that club, why me?" I asked, my voice wavering and tears threatening to spill from my eyes. I was furious, and confused, and upset, and so much more, and I was feeling it all at once like a flood.

James sighed, looking down at his notes for a moment before meeting my gaze again. "This institution... has its methods, albeit extreme. Tyler believes in breaking down patients to rebuild them. I hate to say it, but... I think it's more about control than trying to "cure" anything."

I frowned, feeling a knot form in my stomach. "Control? For what purpose?"

"To reshape you into what he considers 'normal' or 'acceptable.' He believes that by pushing you to your limits, he can cure you of any perceived abnormalities, like phobias."

The weight of his words settled heavily on me. I shifted uncomfortably on the bed and fiddled with the hem of my sweatshirt, trying to process everything. "And you? Do you believe in this?"

James looked conflicted, his usual calm demeanor faltering. "I... naturally have my doubts. But my job is simply to help you cope... I shouldn't really be saying all this, they might be listening."

I looked away, absorbing his words. "And what about Dylan? Why is he allowed to torment us?"

"Dylan was a patient too. He... adapted to the environment here in a way that allowed him to survive, but it made him dangerous. Tyler tries to keep him in check, but he still walks around like he owns the place, regardless of how bad Tyler's punishments get."

The mention of Tyler made my skin crawl. I shivered involuntarily. "Is there any way out of this? Do I have any hope of leaving?"

James hesitated, his expression pained. "The official stance, or what he wants you to believe, is that patients leave once they're deemed cured. But the reality is nothing like that."

I felt a lump form in my throat. "What should I do, James?"

He placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Stay strong and don't lose hope. It's all you can do. There are others in here who want to help too, even though it might not seem like it. Keep your head down, follow his rules, and you might just find a way to survive."

I nodded, a grim expression on my face. I straightened my back and jumped down from the bed, walking to the cabinet to get the blanket out. Then I paused and turned around to him. "Do you know where we are?" I asked quietly.

James frowned. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "This place is off the grid, untraceable. The location is kept secret to prevent any interference from the outside world. It's designed to be a place of absolute control."

I shivered at the thought of being so isolated. Then another question came up. I didn't even think of it really, I kind of blurted it out before I could stop myself. At this point I knew I'd asked too many questions, but once I'd said it I couldn't take it back.
"And what about Tyler? He said everyone has at least one fear. What are his?"

James's eyes darkened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. "Nobody knows his fears. He's a master at hiding them. If he has any, he guards them more closely than anything else. Tyler thrives on fear, but he doesn't show his own."

The gravity of his words hung in the air, making me feel both vulnerable and resolute. I had to find a way out somehow.

"What about you? What were your fears?" I asked.

He looked down at his lap and twirled the pen around in his hand, a quiet voice said simply, "Snakes." I got the feeling he hadn't been fully cured, judging by his response to that.

After that, he cleared his throat, glanced at his watch, then back at me, taking a deep breath. "We'll continue this conversation later. For now, you need to rest and recover."

He paused before leaving, his hand lingering on the doorknob as he popped his head back round the door. "You haven't met Sam yet, have you? He's the Doctor here. I'll see if I can arrange a visit with him later."

-

As he left the room, giving me a cheeky wink, I lay back on the bed cuddling the blanket, my mind racing with everything I had learned. There had to be a way out.

I stared at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything James had told me. The realisation that escape was nearly impossible, and that nobody had ever left, was both terrifying and tragic.

Control. That word echoed in my head, chilling me to the bone. Was that all I was to Tyler? A project to be broken down and rebuilt in his twisted image? The idea of being reshaped, of losing myself to his methods, was sickening. How many others had he done this to? How many had he supposedly 'cured' through torment and fear? And how long had he been doing it?

Where are we? James said this place was off the grid, untraceable. The isolation was suffocating. It meant there was no one out there looking for me, no hope of rescue. But it also meant that everything that happened here was hidden, unseen by the outside world. It was a perfect prison.

Tyler... the thought of him sent a shiver down my spine. He was a monster, plain and simple. His need to control, to instill fear, was beyond anything I had ever encountered. What kind of person thrived on the suffering of others? The fact that no one knew his fears made him even more terrifying. He seemed like a fortress of cruelty, impenetrable and unfeeling.

And Dylan... His sick enjoyment of pain, both inflicted and received, was horrifying. The image of his sinister smile, the way he looked at Tom like a possession, haunted me. Poor Tom. The thought of him prowling the halls, a willing participant in Tyler's reign of terror, was enough to make my skin crawl, let alone what he did to me... so unbelievably twisted.

But what about James? He seemed different, more compassionate, but could I trust him? He claimed to have doubts about this place, but he was still part of it. Still, he was my only ally in this nightmare, and I had to hold on to that. Maybe, just maybe, he could help me find a way out.

And what did he mean about Sam, the Doctor? Another figure of authority, another potential threat. Or could he be another ally? I couldn't afford to trust easily, but I needed all the help I could get.

I clenched my fists around the blanket, feeling a surge of determination. I couldn't let them break me. I had to stay strong, keep my wits about me, and find a way to survive. There had to be a way out of this hell. I just had to be patient, bide my time, and wait for the right moment. But when would that "right moment" be?

I won't let them win.

I repeated it to myself like a mantra, hoping that if I said it enough times, I would start to believe it. I would find a way to escape. I would get out of here alive. I had to.

-