MKE

Home

The padded cell was what he had came to call home. It was solitaire and he'd spend days on end in there if he was to misbehave. God forbid that he'd stir up trouble with any of the nurses or the doctor.

None of the patients ever referred to any in the staff by name. Maybe it was that none remembered their names, or for the fact that the staff never bothered to speak to any of the patients personally. It was obvious that the nurses and doctors didn't care much for them. The residents of the asylum was more of a burden and annoyance in their eyes. They didn't matter.

And Micke?
He had always been the problematic resident. And maybe that was why they kept him drugged at all times. Because if he wasn't, he'd lash out at the closest person he'd find. Hurt them as bad as he could. He has no memory of when its happened, however. It just all seems to kinda blank for him when he enters that state...

But now he was stuck in that room. Impatiently the male walked back and forth between the walls, nervously glancing up at a camera which was placed in one of the upper corners time to time. He knew there was someone watching him. There always was. But he could only imagine that it was kinda hard to see him in there, as the entire room was only dimly lit through a small window in the metal door which lead out to the corridor.

The walls and floor was covered in a mattress like material, making the entire room soft and harmless to its inhabitant. But over time those walls had become covered in crude drawings and texts which he himself didn't really remember making. It was all done in an inky black, which had probably been a thin fluid as it had started to run down the walls. It must've happened when it was being made.

There was a loud scream from outside the door. The sounds of struggle, as a patient was being dragged off through the corridor. Micke hurried up to the metal door to look out the tiny window.

There right outside his room, a man was being forced to follow by two nurses. He was laying flat on his stomach across the cold floor, clawing and trying to get away desperately. One of the two nurses was holding onto his feet and slowly pulling him along further down the hallway, clearly having difficulty as the man was hellbent on kicking and trashing around as much as he could. Second nurse was trying to get the man up and standing, but that was practically hopeless at that point. Micke knew who this man was. Tom from a nearby room, just a bit further down the corridor. From what he had gathered, Tom was suffering from horrid hallucinations and nightmares, and would hear voices practically all the time. He was being treated for it with lobotomy, but it had just made it all worse. Micke wondered how much longer he'd be around for. Not a lot of patients managed to recover at all, as lobotomy didn't really work that well. It was damaging, and eventually it would be lethal. And Tom at this point was a lost cause.

He stepped back and kept going backwards until he hit the wall, where he sunk down to sit. Although it was dark, he could roughly make out the writing and drawings on the walls around him. Drawings of him, of procedures that had been done on him, and of people he'd probably met at some point but didn't remember. The writing was a mixture of English and Swedish, and was just seemingly random words. He was unsure when he had done it. He was unsure of anything of his past, as he couldn't really remember much at all. It was as if someone had gone into his head and took out memories, leaving nothing but blankness in its place. It wasn't really as if it mattered anyway though, whatever he didn't remember couldn't had been that important.

He sighed, leaning his head back at the wall and closing his eyes. It was quiet, but he didn't mind it at all.

Silent... That was what he had been for as long as he could remember. He didn't speak at all to anyone. All he did was listen. It wasn't that he couldn't, he just didn't want to. He figured that he got along with everyone much better that way, and would also not get in as much trouble as he would've if he'd spoke. Or maybe it was that he wasn't comfortable with his voice, the way he talked, or the language. Maybe all of it.

When he did speak, as rare as it is, his accent was pretty noticeable. He mispronounced words, and even worse was names. And sometimes he'd mix up words, ending up with some words in Swedish and the rest in English. But he really had improved since he had first gotten there, seeing as he didn't know the language at all first. But as he spent more time out of his room back at the beginning, he managed to snap up some words here and there until he could finally form full sentences. But since he didn't speak, he didn't have much use of it other than understanding what people said around him...

He felt lightheaded.

Maybe it was because he had just been sitting there with his eyes closed, and he was dozing off?
He opened his eyes, but it made no difference. He sat there and just stared, waiting for it to go away, but it didn't.

"Jävlar..." He mumbled, his breathing quickening as he felt the panic starting to build up. The pills. The pills, the pills, the god damn pills. The effect of his last dose was already wearing off.

He got up, but immediately as he stood his knees weakened and he fell right back onto the ground.

Shit, this isn't good. This isn't good at all. When was my last dosage? Yesterday? At what time? Morning? Oh no. No no no no...

He coughed. And then coughed again. And then again and again and again until he was having a full on fit to the point where he couldn't even breathe between it. He got up from the ground, only to get stuck standing at all fours bent over the floor and coughing his lungs out. If he hadn't been completely empty from before, he was sure that he would've thrown up then and there.

Panting he clenched a hand over his stomach, trying to hinder himself from throwing up nothing at all and the vicious coughing. He tried taking deep breaths - in through the nose, out through the mouth, and repeat. Again and again until he felt like he had it under control. He gasped, sinking together a bit.

Then he heard it.

The laughter.