"She should wake up soon". "I can't believe this, I thought she was making progress". My senses were hazy, like there was a thick fog around me. All my eyes could make out was blackness. My ears heard voices but the sound was weird, loud in some places and quiet in others. I realized I was sitting up and could feel the cold of a seat seeping through my thick overalls. I shivered. I tried to open my eyes, suddenly realizing why all I could see was black. My eyes were closed. I tried lifting my heavy lids but they refused to budge. I was fine with not seeing anything for now because she wasn't in my head. She usually stays out of my head for a week after a sedation. I lived for those weeks. I was free to think, act and be who I wanted.
Finally, after a colossal struggle my eye lids allowed me to control them and I lifted them. There was a bright light and I had to squint because my eyes were hurting. "She's awake" I heard someone say. I recognized that voice and I suddenly knew where I was. Doctor Torris had brought me to the "patient rooms". I re-opened my eyes and took in the scene that lay before me. I was sat in front of a white rectangular desk that looked like it had been taken from a school, the white was blinding, too bright. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust but when they did I could make out a figure who sat opposite me at the table.
Dr Torris's expression showed disappointment and sympathy, like I was some hurt puppy not able to get up on it's own legs. That was facade. I knew exactly how he felt about me under all the carefully practiced expressions he displayed. I knew how he felt about everyone in the asylum. I was good at that. It was one of my many talents. He felt disgusted at us, he believed that we weren't working or using the resources that were given to us in the asylum to recover. What were we given anyway? A crappy cell and half-interested psychiatrists. The one thing that was good in this asylum was the security. No one had escaped for over 20 years, the guards always caught them. No one who tried to escape got far.
Mr Torris was not just disgusted. He was afraid. Terrified. Scared. Of us. That made me expose my teeth and smile a maniac smile. I tried moving my arms and feet, but realized I couldn't, they just wouldn't budge. Glancing down I saw leather restraints, tied on my writs and ankles. I hated this, I hated being restrained when she was no longer controlling me. There was no need. The restraints were tight and I knew there would be bruises on my wrists later. "Inmate 77B, recite you credentials" Mr Torris asked.
I opened my mouth and let out the words that were so imprinted into my brain, I didn't need to think when I said them. The words were familiar and my mouth had said them a million times. "I am Raven Blackwood, born 1998 august 9th, age 18, diagnosed with Schizophrenia and Borderline personality disorder." No one but Dr Torris knew my real name. I never told anyone in the asylum, I had no one to tell. The only people I had seen for 35 040 hours were the guards and Dr Torris. Occasionally, I would hear screams of frustration and the sound of heads banging on walls at night. They didn't bother me at all, I knew how they felt. Helpless and completely isolated.
"Good" Dr Torris was pleased "It is safe now to free you of the restraints. Guards" he called. A scared looking guard entered the room through an entrance that was behind me. I knew why they positioned me like this. If I tried to escape I wouldn't have a clear shot to the exit. The guard crouched and undid the leather restraints. I rubbed at my wrists, they were already starting to bruise. The guard undid the last restraint and exited the room. "Raven, what happened?" Dr Torris questioned. I didn't know what to say. What answer could I possibly give him? I didn't say anything, if you have nothing to say don't say anything.
Dr Torris looked defeated "Look, Raven you have to try and push her out of your head, it seems to me you aern't even trying." How dare he. How dare he tell me that I wasn't trying to get rid of her. I was angry now. It wasn't anger I felt, I realized it was something else. Rage. He is not the one living every day with an impostor in his head. "How dare you." I whispered, my left eye twitched. It did that sometimes, mostly whenever I was angry as hell or on the verge of a breakdown. "I am the one who lives in total isolation, being man handled every week, AND YOU ACCUSE ME OF NOT TRYING?" I yelled at him. I knew that yelling at him was going to make me look more like a psychopath but I didn't care. "DON'T YOU DARE" I scream. I can't take it anymore. Any of it. His disappointed looks, his disapproving eyes. I grab a chunk of my hair and pull, rocking back and forth on the chair.
"How dare you, how dare you" I whisper continuously. "Guards" Dr Torris calls. I don't stop and why should I? Just so he doesn't see me as crazy. Guess what? I am crazy, and he's going to have to deal with it. Two guards appear on my sides and hook their arms under my armpits, lifting me up. I struggled to escape but they don't let go, dragging me out of the room and down a hallway. They're taking me back to my cell I realized. I don't struggle anymore. There's no point. They're never going to let me go. I'm going to be stuck here forever. Never to see the light of day again.
Hey guys thanks for reading <3
