Inception

Chapter 5

As I thought I was dead, I felt a warm palm on my face and a low voice telling me to wake up. My eyes fluttered open, like wings of a butterfly to the bright sunlight. I looked down to see my leg, bent at such a wrong angle that it made me dizzy.

         “Kyra, stay with me,” the voice says. The sun blocked his face, the only thing in sight was a dark silhouette. His hands trembled as he held my head, shaking vigorously.

         “Elian,” I call for him, his name being the only one in mind. “I need Elian,” I plead. My hair was dyed red with blood, the air smelling like rotting flesh and daffodils. But everything seemed like it was a dream, like it was happening all in my head.

         “I’m right here,” Elian says, slowly lifting my body into his arms, nuzzling my head to his chest. He kisses the top of my head, rocking me back and forth whispering the same words over and over: I’m right here.

         The paramedics gently lift me onto a gurney, placing an oxygen mask over my nose, connecting me to more machines. Elian steps into the ambulance, kneeling next to me, stroking my face with the back of his hand. “Where are they taking me?” I ask just loud enough for only Elian to hear me.

         He mouthed the two words I knew I’d hear. Mental. Institution. The ambulance rushed down the winding streets, hitting a few bumps that caused me to yelp in pain, my screams muffled by the mask.

         My mind was so far away, my thoughts more dark each passing minute. I wasn’t myself, even I knew that. It was as if I had morphed into a completely different person; an alien of some sort. I thought, saw, and acted differently, like my body was no longer in my control. But pain was such a powerful thing and we all learn to cope with it differently. But no matter how well we deal with it, pain is still there, still with us. And that’s the thing about pain; it demands to be felt.

         The ambulance pulled up to the institution, a towering building that was made of glass, like a mirror reflecting the light. The back doors flung open to drag me away. Elian ran after me, the doors clicking shut, separating me from him. “Stop,” I tell the men, holding my hand up. They comply, folding their arms in annoyance, staring coldly at me.

         I place my hand up to the glass, a single tear gliding down my cheek. Elian places his hand up to mine, mouthing four words: “I’ll get you out.” And that’s when they took me away from the person I loved.

         They shut the door to the room, restraining my arms and legs down to the bed with complex knots of rope. I kicked and screamed until the screaming had become too painful. The nurse came in with a syringe of blue fluid that made me see things, and made my limbs numb, my body heavy, and my speech slurred like a drunk. Nobody entered the room of an estranged crazy person, leaving me to die. The isolation was beneficial for me, no scowling looks, no whispers; it’s what I needed.

         I tried multiple times to remove the rope but each time, the rough fibers dug deeper into my skin, causing it to welt and burst into small blots of blood. I clench my teeth, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. I was alone, left to fend for myself. Maybe Elian wasn’t there to rescue me this time, maybe I wasn’t worth it.

         But I didn’t have time to think about it. The drugs took me under by the time I got the thought in.

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          I felt like my body was being jostled by harmful hands, careless movements throwing my body whichever direction it chose to go. Pain banged in my head, a throbbing headache inching its way to my temples. My neck was slicked with sweat, the hairs on the back of my head sticking to my neck like glue. My eyes were glued shut, forceful movements to get them open were a waste.