MidKnight: The Asylum [FINISHED]

Chapter 7: Personalities

Harold awoke in an entirely different cell, looked like one he'd seen in a movie he was having trouble remembering. Ahh, it was Suicide Squad, starring Will Smith, Jared Leto, etc. This cell looked almost completely identical to Deadshot's in the film. God, that movie was terrible...
Why was he here? What had happened before he woke up? He didn't remember going to sleep or anything like that...
"Oh, shit." Harold said under his breath. He knew at that point, this was solitary confinement. He remembered everything that'd happened prior to his current situation eventually. One word kept repeating in his mind after remembering everything that'd occurred: Unfair.
His cell door opened and a monstrous-sized man strolled through the doorway, hands in his pants pockets. He wore a large-- or, maybe XXXL-- tuxedo and his hair, well--there wasn't any on his head. He had an idea of who this man was, and he was anything but happy to see him. He seemed about 50 to 60 years old, caucasian, tall.
"Ahh, you're the trouble maker, huh?" the warden said as he entered. Harold sat cornered up in his cell.
"Why'd you bring me here, warden?" Harold asked, getting to the point. He raised a brow at Harold. "Well, you're perceptive." he told him.
"You're the only person in this place that would wear a tuxedo. Doesn't take a genius to determine that."
"Well, I brought you here because you killed another patient. That calls for solitary confinement."
"I did not kill him and I'm sure you know that. I'm talking about this asylum. Why did you bring me here? I know you did." Harold admitted.
"That's a story for another day." the Warden said. "No," Harold disagreed, "you need to tell me now." The big boss scoffed. He shook his head and looked down to his feet, then back up at Harold huddled up.
"You think you're going to make me tell you anything?" he challenged. Harold chuckled to himself. "No," he sighed, sounding like one of those relief-sighs. Then he got serious, tone altering and his face turning to a stone frown. "I'm saying you should. You put me here, only fair I get to know why, ya know?" Harold said, shrugging.
The warden sat in silence to himself, thinking it over. "Nope." he said leaving the cell, electronic buzzing building up in the room. Harold got to his feet, just then realizing he had cuffs on that were built into the center of the concrete floor. He charged at the warden, not planning on attacking.
"Then I swear to God, I am going to kill you! But before I do that, I will lock you up and make you suffer for months and starve you!" he shouted. The warden started laughing to himself at the doorway. He threw his head back and turned, reentering the cell.
Still laughing, he said, "Alrighty, you convinced me. I want to fill you in, now." He shoved a hand in his right pocket of shiny dark blue silk and felt around, looking for something inside. He dug out 3 small items, looked like tiny pieces of paper. He tossed them out to the dim corner Harold was holding himself in, each one flipping over--he'd thrown out 3 photographs.
"These 3 individuals were in the room when a meeting was held here. Mayor Jackson Thompson, who, I've been told, killed you. Fascinating, by the way. You look stellar, despite it. He brought you here, and I met with him and Dr. Nicole Owens, as well as Dr. Gregory Walker. Thompson filled us in on what had happened. He wanted us to make sure you stay hidden, make you disappear."
"What else did he tell you?" Harold asked him.
The Warden laughed softly. "You want to know if he told us who you are? Yes, he did tell us you're this MidKnight character. I personally don't care, I'd never heard of you until he told you about me and I have no interest in outing you." He paused for a moment. "Well, plus, we'll both be here for the rest of our lives, so that's another reason."
"We will most definitely see, big guy."
"I know you have more questions."
"How am I alive?"
"Ahh, that is the one thing I simply cannot tell you. "Why?" you ask? Because I have absolutely no idea how the hell any of that works that was all on Dr. Walker. I assumed the two of you have met? You know, with all the experimentation mysteries and what not."
"So you admit it?"
"I don't need to, you already know it's the truth."
Harold stopped and stared at the chains in the floor. "Wait," he began, "how did you know that I know that?"
"You really think we'd let you walk around here and not have someone listening in on every single conversation you've had since? We heard you discuss it with your former friend Brian. We knew it wouldn't be long before you figured everything out and caused a riot. No, we couldn't have that. So, we had our nurses kill Brian, blame you, all part of the plan. And now you're in here. Oh, don't worry, it'll only be for 2 months. We know how all the crazies can get after a while. After you've done the time, you can do the rest of it back at your old cell, mkay?" The warden sneered. The two held a stare and the warden grinned evilly. They both said nothing, and he left.
For the next 2 months, Harold stayed in that cell every single day, all day. It's where he slept and ate, when he wasn't doing that, it's where he got lost in his thoughts, it's where he drove himself crazy. He couldn't stop thinking about Brian's corpse. It woke him up from sleep, his dead body showed up everywhere in his dreams, turning them into nightmares. He was really dead, they killed him. He also couldn't keep his mind off of Danielle. When would he see her again? Were they going to kill her, too? That's what really irritating him, he couldn't do anything because he was stuck in this dirty, barely-lit room.
There was nothing in this cell, unlike his old one. This one just had a tiny window slot high up by the ceiling, rain slapping the glass every nanosecond, never ending. There was no mattress, no bed at all, nothing. He just slept on the hard, sticky concrete floor.
There was one morning where he could tell he'd been experimented on again, the way he woke up, entire body aching and sore. He didn't care anymore, though. They were trying to break him, and they were winning.
3 days after the 2 months were over, he was walked back to his old cell. He entered and collapsed on his mattress, face-first. He could finally see Danielle today, but he didn't want to, not until tomorrow. Harold could tell how early it was, they'd gotten him up to walk him to cell early before anything would happen.
He slept all day that day, the electronic buzzer never awoke him this time, he was too tired for it to bring him out of his deep sleep. He only ever woke up when he slept for too long, but, even then, he fell asleep not long afterwards.
He was insanely hungry, he could tell when he was in solitary that the food they were bringing him was not from the Mess Hall. He never ate much due to this. He was more tired than hungry at that moment, though, and he wanted to sleep on his mattress again.
Weirdly enough, Danielle never came to his cell at all that day. That scared him when he realized it. What if they did something to her, too? What if they killed both of the people he had connections with to shut him up and keep him here for good? What if they did to try and and make him truly insane?
The next day, he got up for breakfast, he wanted to try and continue to live and figure things out, he also wanted to try and find Danielle. He pushed his creaky, steel barred door open and proceeded to the Mess Hall and joined into the line that led out through the doorway.
He waddled through the line when it moved, grabbing himself a tray and grabbing one for Br--nope, he put that one back and continued through the line, getting his slop.
He sat at the table that used to be Brian and his. Now, it was just his, and it sucked. It didn't feel right that he wasn't there with him, he'd give anything for him to be digging into the cafeteria's slop disgustingly right now.
Aww, isn't that cute? Harold looked around but nobody was near him, the people who were were sitting at their own tables.
Hey, Maroon, he forgot about us. Must've been nice, living life without us and our advice. I bet you've been making a ton of dumb decisions since we've been gone, eh? No, no, no, no. The personalities returned, this is not at all what Harold had needed right now.
Why "Harold"? Like, you should just go back to calling yourself Jerry, in my opinion. Feel me?
I actually agree. Brian's dead, you haven't seen Danielle--
"Yet."
And you won't. You really think they woulda kept her around?
Yeah, they even said they'd been listening in on your conversations. That means they have to know what went on between you 2.
"Shut up," Harold mumbled to himself--
Actually, Jeremiah mumbled it to himself.
"Stop, I'm not going back to that name. Not yet."
The hell do you mean, "not yet"? When do you plan on going back to Jeremiah Carson? Is there some schedule that I don't know about or something?
Yeah, trust me, my dude, you should really go back to Jeremiah.
"Why does it matter to you guys so much?"
Because Jeremiah Carson is MidKnight. Harold Marcus is a lab rat for an asylum. Harold is the warden's b*tch. Harold is a wuss.
Ahh, see? This guy gets it.
"It is literally just a name. I'm still MidKnight, no matter what. And I don't need to run that by you."
Ehhh, you kind of do.
A little.
Just a wee bit, ya know, ole chap?
"I did not miss either of you. Neither of you two ever shut up."
Just jump off the roof of this asylum and we'll stop.
"I'm not falling for that."
Eh? Falling for that? Ha!
Harold finished off his slop and sprang up from his chair to dump this tray.
That's it? That's all you're going to eat? Harold looked down at his tray, realizing he hadn't eaten much of his "food", continuing to the trash can anyway. When looking down at his tray, a man walked into him and their food went all over each other, staining their scrubs.
This man was muscular, shaved chin and cheeks, greenish/greyish tint covering that area. Not just that, but he was a few inches taller than Harold. It was fairly evident he wasn't happy.
Oooooh, you're in trouble now, boy!
Come on, we can take them! Let's get ready to rumble!
We? Oh, no. Jerry got himself into this mess, he can get himself out!
"This is your fault." Harold mumbled to himself. But, just what made the problem worse, the man thought Harold was talking to him.
"My fault? Don't blame me for this just because you can't watch where you're going!" the man ordered.
"No, no! I wasn't--" Harold began, but the man's face turned a bright rose shade and he swung at Harold, striking him in the face.
Oh, he'll regret that! Felix exclaimed, taking the driver's seat, gaining control of the body.
"Oh, you're done now, buddy!" Felix screamed. He pulled one of the trays off of the floor and slammed it over the man's head, then kicked him in the gut. He punched him twice in the chest and slapped him across the face with the tray before punching him in the face and knocking him out.
No! Harold cried from inside the subconscious. The security guards ran over to the scene and restrained Felix. He kicked one of the 2 security guards' knees in, who, then, cried out in pain and fell to the floor, clutching his entire leg. Felix, with the other security guard grabbing his right arm, swung the guard around and punched him in the nose. The guard pulled out a baton and struck him with it 4 or 5 times. Felix collapsed to the utility-grade wooden floor and laughed out maniacally.