MKE

Micke

He sat silent, staring straight ahead and daydreaming. He was thinking of the hospital, the patients, the doctors and the nurses... For how long had it been like this? For him, it seemed like forever. There was no moment he could recall that wasn't surrounded by strange people in white coats and blank cold walls. No moment where he wasn't restrained by a hugging jacket. No moment where he wasn't drugged out of his mind.

How long had he been there? He couldn't remember. Forever, possibly. But even that seemed illogical - everyone here spoke English, and not Swedish like he had been used to. And now when he came to think about it, he realised that he hadn't been in this location for that long. No, he had been moved away from another place just like this. Just that the people were different, and this was a different country.

What year was it that I was moved... 1956? 55? What year is it now?

I think... 1959. Its 1959. I was born 1939... I'm Twenty.

But how many years of those had he been there? How many of those twenty years had he spent in the care of these people? He wasn't exactly sure. His memory was fogged and it all just seemed to melt together...

Then it all came rushing over him - the sick feeling and the burning sensation which reached up from his stomach to his throat. He was about to throw up.

He immediately got up and bolted away to a nearby restroom. It was filthy and poorly cleaned, but that wasn't what was important now. Micke fell to his knees leaning over the toilet bowl and threw up into it until there was nothing more left to vomit up. Coughing and panting, he sank together over the bowl hugging onto his stomach. He shuddered, now feeling even more nauseous than before. Quivering and shaking, he got up and walked over to the sink and let the water start running. Taking a few hands full of water he splashed it in his face, before slowly glancing up at the reflection in the mirror.

There stood a person he recognised, looking right back at him;

Messy, medium short brown hair in a rather ashy shade. Tired green eyes with noticeable bags from the lack of sleep. Pale skin that almost seemed the same shade as the greyish white shirt and pants that he was wearing, and on top of the clothes thick straps of leather meant to hinder him from taking them off. Decorating his ears was silverish earrings which looked like small hoops, one in the left one and three in the right. Along his jaw going down from the ears was the hints of slight stubble, but not really noticeable enough to make his childlike face look any older than he was. He was sickly thin, which made him look taller than he really is.

Yep. That was him.

"Micke..." He mumbled, uttering it slowly as if he thought of each and every letter. His voice echoed between the walls. It was low and soft, but still had a raspy feeling to it. It felt weird talking. He didn't do it that often.

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling how the sick feeling slowly started to go away again. But when he opened them again... There was another man, looking exactly like him, standing right behind him. But this man looked twisted and wrong, and not like any other he had ever met. His eyes were either gone or just completely black, an equally as black liquid streaming down from them like tears, as well as from his mouth and nose. Micke just stood there, staring the copycat down.

"You missed your medication, lille vän, lille vän~" It said with a smile. 'Little friend'? I'm not your 'little friend'.

Micke shook his head. "No, I didn't... I took it..."

"Buuuuut you threw them up again, so it doesn't count! Oh oh oh when our dearest doctor gets to know this - its noticeable you know!" It motioned towards the toiled again. Again Micke just shook his head no.

"They won't know.." He mumbled, letting the other go with his gaze and going over to looking into his own eyes. Maybe it was to reassure himself. "They won't know."

The melted man then shrugged, leaning up against one of the mirrored walls. That smile still on his face. "Not my problem I suppose. You know what they'll do once they figure out you missed a day in your medication, so you better hope you're a good actor."

Micke tilted his head, looking up at him with a puzzled look. "What do you mean?.."

The man looked back at him, also looking kinda confused at first, before saying "Oh. I forgot that you don't remember what they do to us.. Those drugs really do a number on you when you're not on them and then suddenly get them."

He walked up a bit closer, gently grabbing Micke's shoulders and leaning onto him, regaining that smile.

"You gain yourself back, your TRUE nature, and not this dull and boring version of you. The doctor notices, and runs a few tests... Uh oh, you've started to reject the pills cause you're aware of what they do to you! Well, I gueeeess...." He pretended to be holding something, before jamming the pretend object into Micke's arm. He flinched, staring wide eyed at the scene.

"They inject it instead, since you refuse to swallow! But thats not easy, you put up a fight! You always do! So lets strap you down, and meanwhile why don't we try some NEW stuff while we're still injecting stuff into your blood! And then-"

"S- stop. Stop it." The brunette interrupted, taking a few steps away from the mirror and raising his hands up into the air as another sign for the other to stop. "I get it... I remember it..."

The melted mans smile widened. "Good."

Micke sighed, rubbing his face as to calm down as he paced around in the small room. Images from what the melted had previously described flashed before him, as his breathing started to become faster.

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"LET GO OF ME!" He screams, struggling where he was laid down. Hands were holding him down, keeping him in place and wanting to hurt him. The hands hungered to see the sharp needle pierce his skin and inject the burning fluid. They were faceless, and the room dark. Only one light set right above him and the reflection of the doctors glasses.

The ruthless man mumbled orders to the faceless hands. "Keep him still. Don't let him escape.". The hands obeyed, ignoring the young mans pleading and struggles to get away. He begged, black blood running down from his nose...

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"OPEN UP IMMEDIATELY!"

Ruthless banging on the bathroom door brought him back to the now. He was sitting on the floor, hugging his knees and sitting right in front of the door. He had accidentally prevented them from getting in.

He jumped up to his feet, staring wide eyed as the door burst open and three nurses rushed in. The one who grabbed him was a man, and was much taller than Micke. Quickly he was dragged out of the restroom and into the corridor. He was shook by all of this, internally being frantic and panicking, but on the outside being completely stiff.

"I allowed you to be in the big room this ONCE on the condition that you wouldn't walk off anywhere else and try to get away! Shame! Shame on YOU!" The small lady nurse from before yelled at him, giving him a very stern look which was mixed with anger. The third nurse had been checking around in the room, and came out again with a calm look on her face.

"Poor thing must've felt sick Mary, he threw up in there." She noted, gaining a look from the older nurse - who's name's Mary.

"He threw up?" She looked back at Micke. "Did you?"

He hesitantly nodded, having a very apologetic look over his face.

She took a moment just to figure out what she should say, before she finally went "Well, at least it wasn't in the big room I suppose. Lets get you back to your own room then, shall we."

And with that, it was to walk again...

To the padded cells...