The Arms of Morpheus

Prologue

San Servolo Asylum, Venetian Lagoon. 1830.

I trust in the mercy of the Lord.

Shackles tighten, chafing the bruised raw flesh of her wrists; screams and cries are unheard once more. Her concept of time is distorted beyond measure, everything around her a blurred amorphous mass of noise and smells that she knows one day will envelope her completely. She has no recollection how long she has been incarcerated in this venter of Hell, each day grinding, seamlessly merging into the next.

But the Lord is good.

A violent jolt of the head rips hair from her scalp, dragging her back to the present as her head is pinned against the unforgiving wooden chair, held fast by rough leather restraints. She is at the mercy of her captors once more, a mercy she knows will be cruelly denied as the dark figures grope and molest the naked flesh beneath her coarse black gown.

A cold shape grasps her breast, squeezing, twisting as it sneers, filling the confined space with the stench of stale tobacco.

But the coldness of the flagstone floor against her soiled bare feet is the only sensation she can feel.

The path to heaven is difficult; it is not for us to question the Lord's will.

'Bella Signora.' It whispers, the damp walls echoing to the deep guttural laughter as it turns to leave; its duty performed.

But her unfocusing eyes stare through it, to her it is made of glass; her emaciated body unable to summon the energy even to hate anymore.

Lashed to a chair, cold and alone, she awaits her fate. Another treatment session has been prepared.

                                                                                            ***

The view from the window is tranquil, overlooking the recreational area with its central hub of landscaped gardens and domed portico. Inmates shuffle in obedient straight lines along tree lined avenues, talking with people who do not exist as the raven black uniforms of the hospital Carabinieri watch, waiting for any sign of insubordination that will be dealt with swiftly and cruelly.

The man sitting at the table drains his glass as he studies his case notes, surrounded by leather bound volumes of textbooks and journals that adorn the shelves of his office.

But Alessandro deLuca is a puzzled man.

In twenty years as senior physician he has never studied a patient with such a bizarre condition.

Removing thin, wire framed spectacles, pressing a thumb and forefinger into each eye, he gently caresses the lids of his eyes as his mind walks through the patient history again.

Her name is Isabetta Orsini. She is 48 years old. An unremarkable woman who has lived an unremarkable life, the reason for her detention unclear from her notes.

But still she remains an enigma to him and his colleagues.

For Isabetta Orsini has not slept in two years.

Picking up his quill he writes in his patient's journal, the still air broken by the coarse scratching of nib against paper:

After a six month period of examination and treatment at my hand, the condition of this woman still cannot be determined by the medical practitioners of this hospital nor any of its associates. The subject has been subjected to the most comprehensive range of restorative techniques that this hospital has to offer, such as blistering, letting and immersion therapy, with no observable effect recorded.

The results of these treatments have merely served to heighten anguish and arousal, to the point that mechanical restraints have been required at night.

My faith in these techniques, however, has not waned and I am as fierce an advocate of their use as is possible. To this end I propose a further course of treatment, one which will combine these methods in a manner that I have considered yet deferred for some time, awaiting a suitable patient. I now believe I have such a patient and will dispense this treatment with immediate effect, recording it here for the purpose of this journal.

The patient will be held fast whilst blisters are applied to the face, neck and genitals. The preferred method for this will be by administration of hot irons and will incorporate all necessary physical restraints. Immediately, the lancet will be used on the right arm to let the blood. Four pints should be sufficient to reduce the pressure on the brain and may act as an additional sedative should the patient become anxious. Three tablespoons of tartarised antimony will be subsequently administered to purge the colon of any undesirable elements. Finally, repetitive immersion into iced water will be administered for a period of one hour.

It is my considered opinion that this intensive treatment will reduce the temperature and swelling of the brain and return this patient to a higher level of sanity. As I write, she is being prepared for treatment.

I will document the results in this journal.

Dr. Alessandro deLuca

23rd July 1830.

Two hours later, Isabetta Orsini lay dead.

No more entries were made into her journal.