Schizophrenia

Chapter 6

Roberts had gone on a vacation.

Or, at least, that's what the nurses told us.

In all honesty, it was most likely a court hearing. But those never went anywhere. He always bribed everyone involved and kept the cases on his side. This has gone on for years and none of us expected it to ever stop.

These were the few semi-peaceful days we had in the asylum. The screaming certainly decreased. Only the regular wails and laments of the damned.

During these brief periods of reprieve, we were able to sleep without having the fear of being woken up to some new torture method.

For the first time since I arrived in the asylum, I dreamed.

I was back at my home, in a time when everything was fine and peaceful. A time when I had a normal childhood. A time before the voices.

I ran through my yard, falling and skinning my knee. My parents both rushed to my aid, picking me up and tending to my wound. My mother kissed the band-aid she had just placed on the cut and held me tight. My father wiped my tears.

I was happy.

I was innocent.

But then the dream shifted.

I sat in a corner of my bedroom, my knees folded to my chest. I was screaming and sobbing, my fists pounded relentlessly against my skull.

"Get out of my head! Get out, get out, get out!"

My wrists had been slit. Words in dull red spelled out on one wall, "QUIET."

The wailing siren of an ambulance could be faintly heard over my screams.

The siren sounded off though, and continued to distort, the closer it came.

It turned into something different...

It was music.

~~~

I felt the hard bed beneath me and crushed my eyes together. I didn't want to wake up back in the asylum, but I knew it was coming. Tears started forming as I forced my eyes open, preparing myself for the painful fluorescent lights of my room.

Tearing my eyes apart, I was very pleasantly shocked by the fact that I was not in my room, but what I assumed to be another area of Erik's home. It was dark, all except for the soft glow of a single candle lighting the room. Through the crack of the door, I could hear Erik from the other room and what sounded like a crying girl. I assumed it was Christine, remembering her significance from the music.

"Come, you must return. For those fools who run my theatre will be missing you," Erik stated, almost indignantly. I waited for them to leave and even then, stayed in my room for a bit before entering the main area. I didn't want to antagonize Erik any further or spark a conflict while I've somehow managed to stay in this world.

I took my time to relish in the peacefulness of the lair, listening to the sounds of the underground lake and the crackling of the numerous candles spread throughout the area. It was truly beautiful.

Sheets of music and artwork were strewn across floors and walls. Books laid askew on random corners. A bust sat near the organ with a black mask spread across its face. The air smelled of candle wax and paper. It was the most serene I had been in a very long time, just basking in the haven that was Erik's home.

I spotted the violin where I had left it before and my fingers ached, longing to play it again. I started to reach for it, then remembered what took place only hours ago. Anxiety quickly began to build. My heart raced as my palms became sweaty and hands began to shake.

I didn't want to anger him again, I didn't want to go back to the hospital. If I angered him again, he might cast me out. What would I do then? I have no identity in this place. I have nowhere to go.

I soon became conscious of my heartbeat and erratic breathing. My mouth became dry and I tried to swallow. I made attempts to calm down my breathing, praying to God I didn't have a panic attack in that moment.

Braced against the wall, I waited for the oncoming panic attack to pass as I made attempts to slow my breathing. Finally able to stand on my own, I became determined to play the violin again, after all, he couldn't return that quickly.

Gingerly picking up the instrument, I placed it on my shoulder. My muscle memory thankfully kicked in as I placed my hand in the first position. I thought of what to play and decided on one of the few things I could remember from my childhood.

From before the asylum.

The song I settled on was Vivaldi's Concerto in A Minor. I remember being so excited to learn it when I was young. I began to play, although hitting a few wrong notes along shifting areas, but soon shut my eyes and relied solely on my memory.

Each movement of the piece was vastly different from the other. Each with its own imagery and story to tell. As I played through the third and final movement, I could clearly see two swordsmen in a graceful, quick paced duel. The battle was almost evenly divided by the opposing men and ended them as equals on the final note with an honorable bow as I finished the piece.

"I always preferred the second movement."

I gasped and nearly dropped the violin in my shocked state. I whipped around to face the voice of Erik coming from behind me. I stood there wide-eyed and sputtering as Erik began to speak again.

"It's rather short in comparison to the other two movements, but one can convey such powerful emotion within it," he circled me slowly, almost like an animal stalking its prey.

"You play wonderfully, Nicolette," he stated with sincerity, pausing his pacing. I stood there silently, trying to find words in my stunned state.

"I wish to apologize for my... brash actions earlier," Erik began slowly, being very careful with his word choices. "But you see, one must be hesitant of those who enter his home uninvited."

I nodded my head in short, quick motions, still attempting to find the moisture to bring motion to my tongue.

"Know that I still have many questions for you that will be answered," Erik said firmly as his pacing came to a halt. "Are you prepared to answer?"

"You won't believe me," I pleaded.

He let out a low chuckle, "We shall see about that."

~~~

I told him everything.

From the voices, to the asylum, to the years of abuse I've faced at the hands of Doctor Roberts, and even the few glimpses of my childhood that remain within my memories.

I explained that I still could not comprehend how exactly I was arriving in his world. I had no hint towards the real reason of how it happened.

When I went on about the subject of the asylum, his interest seemed to peak. Although, as I went into detail about all the pain I've experienced, the years of torture and abuse, it seemed to anger him. His fists clenched and unclenched over and over again, but he remained silent as I told him of my life.

It was strange... He remained silent, up until the point of me finishing my life story.

He said I could stay.

His entire demeanor had changed. Erik had become peaceful and almost caring towards me, for reasons unknown to me.

But there was one thing that was the strangest out of all that took place.

Erik believed me.