Chapter 26

52 7 2
                                    

Alana's mind was a jumbled mess. Everything was confusing, scary. Everyone was out to get her.

Her eyes flickered to the door as it opened, her nurse Eli walking in.
"Hey, Eli." A voice in the back of her head whispered to bite him when he came close. But, shaking it to the back of her mind, she was able to give him a small smile.
"Hey, Alana." Eli returned the smile, friendly yet somewhat wary. He pulled the overbed table towards Alana and placed the tray of food on it. Alana shifted on her bed, drawing the food closer and timidly picking up the plastic knife and fork. Eli sat on the chair next to the bed, facing her.
Alana looked down. The food was typical of hospital food- today's dish, which was meant to be sausages and mash, resembled more canned cat food that anything. She picked up the fork and poked at it half-heartedly, sending a pleading look Eli's way. Eli smiled back.
"You have to eat it, Alana." Alana's eyes moved him out of focus and centred on the wall behind Eli. There was a black shadow on the wall, crouched behind him. It had a weight to it, an impression of someone watching her. The eyes glowed white, pinpricks of light in the mass of twitching shadow. Alana tore her eyes away and went back to poking her food. She had to keep reminding herself it wasn't real. She tried to distract her mind by shovelling food into her mouth, concentrating on the bland flavours and trying her best to block the voices out.

In a moment of lucidness, the doctors had been able to tell her what was happening. Schizophrenia. Even as Dr.Schulz explained what they'd try to do, the voice at the back of her head cried that he was lying, he was out to get her, that they were the ones poisoning her brain.
Alana returned to concentrating on her food. She was aware of Eli watching her every mouthful, watching her eat and ensuring she actually swallowed it. If she didn't...

She was placed on a strict diet, measuring her calorie intake. Before the voices had told her to vomit it back up, so now Eli had to watch her. Alana looked at Eli, giving him a smile through her chewing. Her expression quickly changed as she realised the shadow now had it's hand on his shoulder, almost clawlike, and as she watched it began raking its hands down his back.
"They're bad today, huh?" Alana was glad she had a mouth full of food so she didn't have to answer it directly, but she gave an ambivalent nod. Eli's brow furrowed, pity obvious on his face.
"It'll get better. But, if you're up to it, we could play a game of chess?" Alana nodded enthusiastically. She was so glad to have Eli. Otherwise, when Chris wasn't visiting, she would be completely alone, and she just didn't think she could handle that. The voice disagreed.
"Sure, that sounds great." She gave Eli a tentative smile, which he returned.

***

The spaces behind that second door were almost identical to the halls where they had walked in, barred for fitted lighting. The walls were the same thin plaster, the floor the same dulled concrete, only the lighting consisted instead now of fluorescent tubes, lining a trail down the corridor. They passed several people along the way, all dressed similarly to Roman, and Kiera kept her head down, her hair carefully veiling her face. A few gave Roman a friendly nod, but none took note of Kiera- or her bloodied clothes for that matter. She guessed that was the norm.
She allowed Roman to lead her, traversing the maze of corridors. Without him, she thought she would've been lost.

Roman lead her to another nondescript metal door, alike to all the others they had passed. The hallways were getting more and more trafficked as they continued, and had caught a few stares from the other men here. Standing by the door, Roman whispered to her.

"This is the break room. They'll be food here, but it'll also be full of men." Kiera looked over her shoulder to stare at it and caught the mischievous glint in his eyes. He knew what he was doing.

"Fine, step back." Kiera shook his hands off her and brought a hand to the door. The broken handcuff still clung to her wrist, swaying as she pushed it open.

Tell No OneWhere stories live. Discover now