Diseased | #wattys2016

Chapter 6

As Riley continued to cower away in her already limited area, Jack's interests seemed to have peeked as his eyes laid upon something almost magical.

"Hey, pass me the mattress." He calls to Riley nodding towards where the mattress is thrown on the floor. His previous anger died down, a normal occurrence of his bipolar disorder.

When she didn't answer, Jack used every ounce of his strength to not lose his temper. Irrational outbursts will only get him so far. Besides, he really wanted that mattress.

"Did you hear me? Shove  the mattress over." he barks, his irritable voice seeping through.

"Why don't you do it yourself?" Riley snaps.

She was growing quite annoyed of his personality, determined this is was a fate worse than death.

"Um, helloooooo?" He lifts his hands, signaling to the chains around his wrists. "I would if I could."

"No. It's my mattress, and I don't want to give it to a psychotic killer like you, thank you very much."

Jack briskly moves up to a crouched position, determined to prove his authority over her.

"Says you: words' got around that you're called 'Riley the Ripper.' So listen up you hypocritical bitch, Either you kindly hand me the mattress, or I will wrap these chains around your neck and pop your head off. Or, better yet, I can probably rip these off myself. The screws on the wall are so old and badly fixed, I can tear them right off and demolish you. So why don't you do me a favor sweetheart and pass me the mattress." He spits out at her. Enough playing nice.

His voice is just above a whisper not wanting to bring any attention, but his words seemed to ring loudly in Riley's mind, replaying over and over.

Riley the Ripper. How much she hated that nickname.

Shaken, she kicks the mattress near him, giving up on keeping the closest thing she has to comfort in her ward. I guess in Section 5 the luxury of comfort is limited, she sulks bitterly.

He probably has a bunch of other names he is willing to call her, and, for Riley, she is not going to enjoy any second of it.

She thinks back to his words, wondering if he's truly strong enough to break through his concealment. The thought worried her, leading to another. Does she care that Jack wants to kill her? Wouldn't he have done it by now? Is he keeping her for amusement or company purposes?

Does she care to die?

"Mmm." he interrupts her thoughts, humming in appreciation when he awkwardly lies on the mattress, only to sit up when the chains got in his way. "You know, never really had a mattress. You know what my bed was? The cement floor of the dusty apartment. Somehow managed to smell worse then the sewers. Hated it."

He moves his butt around on the mattress, feeling for a comfortable position on the stiff board.

"I must say, not what I was expecting, for them to move me in with a killer chick, literally." He laughs at the pun he's made and gives Riley a once over. "Did you see it coming?"

"Yes, of course I saw it coming, because they keep me informed about everything in this institute." Riley answers sarcastically rolling her eyes. "I know as much as you do, I'm fairly new here too."

"Is that so?" Jack says, half dozing off. He's already lost interest in this conversation.

Just as he was about to doze off, ignoring whatever Riley said, a nurse came in to the ward. She gave Riley her daily pills with a smile, but ducked her head in turn to Jack, shoving over his like it contained a dead rat or poisoning.

How sweet. Jack thought. I'm treated worse than a savage animal. She's been around a psycho like Riley, and already prefers her over me?

"Daily pills. I suggest you take them quickly, before they tranquilize you and shove it down your throat instead." Riley says, the nurse nodding in turn.

Jack took them, swallowing the pills dry. Oh course, the nurse brought some water for Riley, kindly passing it to her after she pops the pills in her mouth.

A look of alarm was constant in Riley's eyes, but only Jack seemed to have noticed for the nurse then leaves in turn without a second glance.

As soon as the loud banging of the lock on their door sounded, Riley spat her pills into her hand and squished them as best as possible into the faintest hole in the corner of the floor.

Jack looks at her, perplexed. It is obvious his analysis on this girl was more far off then he thought.

"Looks like Mrs. Goody two shoes prefers to pop more blood vessels then pills."

Riley glares at him, prepared for her explanation.

"The head boss named Trevor continues to try to 'teach me a lesson', and those pills aren't the ones I normally take. I take them everyday though. Although, pills don't seemed to be helping me, but making things more complicated and worse."

"And by that, you mean...?"

"It gives me headaches sometimes. Lack of energy. Sad. Lets me think more." Riley shakes her head, snapping herself out from her drowsy state. "I don't like it, but it's apparently the better option."

"Then what?"

"Seeing ghosts; things that no one can see. Things that no one can hear. Talking to imaginary people. Listening to voices. It's called schizophrenia, if you didn't already know." She lets out a humourless laugh.

"Did you know, even if ten other people see a killer, and I see the exact same one, the court will overrule the fact that there was a killer at all? That I may be 'seeing things'? I may have this 'disease' per say, but that is not to say that I think up a whole world. If I were to listen to them, theoretically, my entire life would be a lie. A dream. A scam. So I learned to block out people's nasty thoughts and live my life to its fullest. I learned to deal with it, because that's what you do. But me, a killer now? A Ripper? The absurd possibility that I can remotely think one day 'oh, I think I may just kill a bunch of innocent people!' is preposterous. So pardon me if I don't particularly enjoy my nickname."

Riley's sudden speech of outburst took Jack by surprise, unknowing of what to say. Her eyes seemed to be scaring him, her expression looking murderous.

He decided to awkwardly laugh it off, exclaiming "well then. And who says Im not a advisable source in therapy group? By all means, please continue your autobiography and share some more feelings pumpkin" He mocks.

"Oh, forget it! You don't take anything seriously! You have some serious issues! No wonder you're locked up in here. So, next time you decide to even think of interacting with me, don't. As of now, I want nothing to do with you."

As time passes, naive Riley snapping in her worst of times, hopelessly praying for news from her lawyer, her petite brain fails once more to make up for her personality; unknowing that the real killer was much closer than she could dream of.