Asylum

Pain in the as.. eyes

As soon as I begin to see light on the other sides of my eyelids, I snap my eyes open, and reflexively reach for the back of my neck, where the guard shot me with her tranquilizer gun.

As I run my fingers over my skin, I am surprised to feel no scabs from the blood that should have dried up after the hit. It's not like anyone would have cleaned the wound- no one cared that much. I look around my room fondly, cherishing every little thing in it, from my nightstand to my window to the glowing stars on my ceiling. Wait, what stars?

I'm not in the same room, am I?

I look around myself, and am hit with a sudden wave of insecurity. I don't even know if I'm in my own room.

"Eat your breakfast." They mutter, and I almost can't hear the exasperated tone of voice that they are using. I look over to my door, where a breakfast tray is waiting for me. There is a pancake on it, and apple juice in the metal cup they give me so that I can't break it. I don't understand why they actually care about whether or not the cups are broken, seeing as they never even bother to wash them after they've been used. In the dining hall, my friend Roger told me that one girl caught rabies once from one of those cups. I think that Roger only told me that to scare me away from drinking whatever the officials give me. I'm not scared though, because if I caught rabies, it would probably actually improve my health.

I pick at the pancake, cutting it awkwardly with my jagged fingernails. There isn't ever any silverware on my tray, so I've become used to being unsanitary, as I don't really have a choice. I down the apple juice quickly, being parched from the constant loss of water that I experience every time I cry. The cold liquid rushes down my throat and I sigh. For all I know, this is the last glass of apple juice that I will ever drink. They always hurt me when I feel happiest. Today, they just may kill me. Because I have a date.

They tell us not to fall in love with each other here, but to be honest, this place is just like the middle school I went to before the... Incident. Full of teenagers ready to challenge the system whenever they can. Full of hormones that practically dictate our lives.

"Hah! That's not what dictates your life!" They say. I hang my head, disappointed in myself for thinking that if I forgot about them they wouldn't still be there. They're always there, and they won't go away. I might as well accept that. I stand up, and the sudden movement triggers the tears. My eyes burn, exhausted from the constant strain I've put on them. All I can do is squish my face into the sunken-in pillows on my bed and hope that their softness will help the pain to go away.

"You're such a coward, Cynthia." They say, "Get up. Feel the pain."

"No." I say, my voice sounding muffled through the pillow. I wonder if they can hear me when I can't even hear myself?

"FEEL THE PAIN!" They yell, and I hear their voice resonate through my entire body, as loud as a car horn when you're right next to the car. After the sound, comes the nothing. I am nothing. Yet I am everything. I am nowhere. Yet I am everywhere. I see myself from outside of my body, being pulled off of my bed by them, and I can hear my screams as they force me to open my eyes. I watch myself walk over to the window and bang on the glass, crying out for help. I know what happens next. I close my eyes, too disgusted by the scene to look as the electric shock field is activated over my window. I can't control my fists as my hand closes in on the glowing wall of pain. My eyes snap open and I watch myself fall to the floor as the shock field shuts off. I feel my eyes rolling into the back of my head and the wind is knocked out of me as I fall down next to myself.