The Eye of the Beholder [Stefano Valentini]

The Ninth Portrait: Shattered

When I awoke, I found myself in an oddly familiar room; it definitely wasn't Stefano's room at the Grand Hotel though. The walls were grey and dusty, cracks decorating every surface. The bed I was situated on was clean, but wasn't very comfortable; even the mattress felt familiar to me. I looked to my clothes, which had been replaced with a white tattered rag that could have been a hospital gown in a previous life. My bandages had also been changed, though they didn't feel as proper as Stefano's. I looked around my surroundings, and saw a steel door with a small window act as my only way out. I tried to stand on my feet, and saw that there was much clutter; old papers, thrown chairs, and a lot of dust. I attempted to stand once more after observing the ground, only for my wounds to scream in protest and my head begin to pound. Wincing, I held my head in my hands, being very careful to approach the window. I peeked through the bars, and saw a long hallway of grey and black, lined with similar doors like the one that kept me inside. I attempted to open the door, and found that it was locked; even the sound of an attempted escape was so familiar. I kept looking, trying to find answers. Where am I? How did I get here? Who brought me here? How long have I been here? A shiver ran down my spine, and I felt a sense of heavy dread fall upon my shoulders.

It was then that I knew where I was.

"...How... am I back at Beacon?"

This may not be my original room, but it is definitely a room of the mental institution. Even these clothes reminded me of my old uniform, but these rags barely covered anything; almost all of my bandages were free to be shown. I could hear my heart pound in fear, and the voices of the doctors and nurses began to scream at me from my memories. All demanding that I be normal, demanding that I die, demanding that I be left behind and forcefully become mad. I could feel their hands touching me everywhere, pinning me down and keeping me in tight restraints. I could feel the drugs they pumped into me rushing through my veins, and though the high never reached me, just the feeling of something foreign in me was enough to cause my arms to tightly wrap around me. I did my best to keep my nails from entering my flesh, scared of ruining all of Stefano's hard work. I wish I had my pocket mirror so I could see myself; to see that I was fine, and I wasn't being attacked. I wish I had Jason to keep me grounded and my thoughts elsewhere. I wish I had a book of desserts so I could think of something sweet. I wish Stefano was here so I could continue to be useful. I wish I was somewhere other than here.

I have to get out before I do something I know I should regret.

I heard a door open from somewhere on this floor, and I backed away from the door. A familiar voice spoke as their footsteps echoed throughout the empty hall," Please! You don't have to do this! You can just let her go!" "And why should I, mother?" Another voice - one I recognized as Iollan's - hissed," My chance to unwrap my present was ruined by that fucking Italian. Why shouldn't I take advantage of this chance? Everyone thinks she's dead after all, so where's the harm?" "The harm is that she is an innocent girl!" Deborah protested," She's done nothing to you!" There was a slap, and then a second one. As Deborah sobbed, I heard the anger dripping from Iollan's lips," She made a fool of me, mother. And now that no one will come looking for her, I will be sure to take full advantage of your belated present to me before I enter the system." I raised an eyebrow at the word 'system', but Deborah was quick to retaliate," You honestly don't think that the man she was with will look for her?!" "Of course I don't." He spat out," Do you truly believe that a man would leave an 'innocent girl' in the state I found her in? Like hell he will be looking for her." My heart hurt at his words, but I knew that he was right. Stefano would be furious, but I doubt he would try to find me. He may look if he finds himself bored, but he won't go to such lengths to see my return... That is what I should think. But I know better: I am a signed piece of work of his, and he will be absolutely livid when he finds that I am missing. I hope he finds out soon; I would like to see him slice Iollan's throat.