THE DREAM CATCHER

25.

Two days. I've been locked up in mental asylum for two days now and no one even bothered to give me food, water, explanation. Anything. I haven't slept in two days, like closing my eyes for longer than a second it requires from me to blink would cost me life. I'm not sure if it wouldn't. If I wasn't insane when I got there I am, for sure, insane now. For many hours I've been sitting on a soft floor, my hands still immobilised behind my back. I've been looking at this god damn door for hours, piercing it through, hoping it will open. But it doesn't. So many emotions, thoughts and feelings are swirling in my head it's hard for me to reach for one in particular. It's chaos. Inside me. I feel like I'm shivering but I'm not. I'm not outside, however, my inside decided to do a dance of death and it's slowly killing me from inside. I'm rotting. My brain, my body, my soul is rotting and I can't do anything about it. I'm not even crying, too tired to do so. I just want to leave my body. If I thought that what I felt before was too much, what I'm feeling now is indescribable. I'm feeling every emotion available on the planet. The only thing that keeps me sane and woken up are those black eyes that led me home. And the tattoo still burning on my chest. And the cold pendant surface I feel pressed against my skin. Without them in my mind I would have thought everything that happened was an illusion. But they were real, I'm sure about it. They were the most real thing I've seen in my life. And I am desperately holding onto this image, not letting it go. Not letting him go.
Suddenly the door crack open blinding me with a sore light coming from the corridor behind my visitor. I can't believe my eyes. It's the same doctor that treated me when I was 7 and was locked here for the first time. But now he is much older, close to death. His black hair turned white, his body shrunk, his skin wrinkled even more. But he still has those terrible, dirty glasses. Is still dressed in hospital, white coat and is still holding a pile of papers. And still asks me the same stupid question.
,,How are we feeling?" He repeats the same question he asked me around 12 years ago.
And my blood temperature rises to a flaming hot level. My heart beats like crazy, my eyes cover with fog. I'm so furious I would rip his windpipe bare handed. But I can't. However, I can stand up. So I do. I jump straight on my feet and approach him so fast he's unable to do anything before I lift my head and hit his own with it. I hit him so much I can almost hear my skull crack beneath my skin. I must have broken his nose. But I don't care. I don't care about the pain I made him feel. He has put me through much worse pain locking me here and not answering my questions, not explaining me anything. He sentenced me for so much emotional pain my heart had sunk. And now he's paying for it with his broken nose and body collapsing next to my feet. He deserved it. He and every other person who has put me through this hell. They all are going to regret that. I'll not let them go. I'll destroy every single person who was even watching my suffering and not doing anything to help me. I didn't deserve that. I'm just a kid. I was just a kid. And none of them bended even a finger to help me. No one. I'm starving, dehydrated and so exhausted I can barely stand still but I'm powered by so much sick adrenaline it pushes me forward. Now I'm walking through the marble, white corridor topped with a dome, sinking in a cold, blinding light of reflectors above my head. There's so white in here it gives me shivers. My bare feet are freezing connecting with a cold tiles on the floor, I struggle to catch my balance because of my tired limbs and hands attached to my back. I bounce of the walls like I was drunk or drugged, I'm not sure if I'm not. The asylum is a complete maze. Empty maze. I come across the crossroad of corridors, all looking the same. Every one of them is decorated by multiple, steel doors with a grate. Every corridor, every door look the same. No windows. Just clean, terribly clean, white marble and deadly steel reflecting even more deadly light. I have to get rid of this caftan. If someone attacks me I'll not be able to fight. So I bend in half, putting my arms on the cold floor and step on the sleeve. Then I stand up as quickly as I can. I almost lose my balance and flip back on the floor but I manage to stand still. One of my arms is free. I'm free. The desperation and adrenaline saved my life one more time. Someone who put me there was too stupid to fasten the belt between my legs. So I struggle to take it through my head. When I miraculously manage to do that I'm standing in the middle of the corridor, dressed only in white shorts and sports bra in the skin colour. I can finally touch my face. It's dirty, sweaty, covered in dust that glued to my face by my tears. My hair is tangled, put together in a bun. I've never wanted to take a bath so desperately in my whole life. But not now. Now I have to escape this place and... I don't know what should I do. I don't know if coming home is reasonable. I don't know what or who will wait for me there. But I have to walk. Somewhere. So I chose the path on my left, only because Noah's tattoo is on the left side of my chest. Maybe he will lead me out of here if I won't be able to do it myself. My walk turns into run, my limbs burn like they are being licked by flames. I approach the end of the corridor in the moment I almost collapse from exhaustion. But I was right that Noah will help me. There is a steel door of a lift here. I don't think much before pushing the button. I wait for the cabin to come to rescue me in silence. The only thing I hear is a quiet, noisy sound of working lamps. It gives me shivers. Once at a time I hear muffed sobbing or something, someone hitting steel door. I feel dizzy. I must have been drugged. And left completely alone. Suddenly, the lift door opens reviling the inside. And there's someone here, of course it is. It's a young woman, she can't be much older than I am. She is holding a pile of papers, dressed in the same, horribly white uniform. I can see a plastic plate with her name hung on her neck. She looks at me from above her papers and the terror in her eyes is so visible it almost hurts me. Almost. I take no time before pushing her back to the lift she tried to escape. I hold my elbow to her throat while pushing door closing button desperately.
,,Please..." she whispers as she raises her hands in surrender. ,,I'm only a apprentice." I hear her quiet sob. But I don't have time for mercy. It may cost me my life. So I reach to her pocket, she's not even moving, too scared to do anything. She's weak and terrified. And I have to use an advantage of it. I find what I was looking for. I crush a syringe in my hand as I stuck it in her arm. She lets out a muffed noise of pain and breaks down on her legs unconsciously. I fight the aching feeling of guilt crawling up my spine as I unbutton her shirt, take of her boots and her plastic identification plate. I dress up in her clothes in seconds. Let my dirty hair fall down my shoulders, covering my face and my identity with it.  The door opens in the exact moment I'm smoothing out my new clothes. I hide my face in the papers. I've hidden her unconscious body behind the door so no one can see her. At least for now until I escape. My heart is pounding so fast it threatens to slip out of my chest. I'm so filled with adrenaline I feel indestructible. And for some insane, horrible reason it fills me with satisfaction. I'm not weak. Everyone who thought so was wrong. So very wrong. I walk out of the elevator and I find myself in another, blindingly white room. It's the lowest floor. And the people in white uniforms are crowding here. With the corner of my eye I see huge, glass door hiding a dark world behind, my heaven of escape. People are wandering around, some patients are waiting for their turn, sitting in white sofas, shaking their legs or crying. I just have to act like I ended my shift and I'm going home. Nothing suspicious. And my rescue comes down from the heaven. One of the people waiting behind the counter of reception stabs himself in his eye with a pen. I'm far away but even from this distance I can see a puddle of blood flowing down his face onto the desk. Receptionist starts screaming, security and doctors rush to help him. People in the waiting area scream too. I have to use this exact moment to leave. But as I take a step towards the door someone catches my arm.
,,Miss Waller, we have an emergency, please hide in the staff room." A young, security man says rapidly as he rushes to help.
My heart stopped beating for a moment but I'm back to my senses in seconds. Unfortunately, I have no idea where the staff room is. So I run. I run towards the door as fast as my limbs let me. They open automatically and I can already hear screams. But they are screaming on me. I can hear my name. My real name. They found out I escaped. I drop the papers and look around. It's evening already, the city is dark. It won't be hard for me to hide if I play this right. So I run around the corner and spot a low enough building to climb up. If my body will allow me to do so. I take no time diving in bushes and trees surrounding the building, it's old, ancient, it must be some kind of bank or school. Covered by plants I make my way up the wall. Irregular bricks and cornices make it easier for me but I almost fall down to my death a couple of times. When I reach the top that is hidden from the street by a low wall and jump over it I land flat on my face. But I'm free. I'm free. They didn't catch me. I still hear their muffed screams, alarm ringing in my skull. I crumble against the wall, right in the corner. Before I let my eyelids fall I scan the surrounding looking for cameras or people. But I don't see any. I know it's stupid, irresponsible, may cause my death or re-inprisonment but I can't fight a sleep that hugs me in its embrace. I'm so, so tired.