Institutionalized

I was walking down the loneliest, emptiest most desolate street in the world. The trees lining the sidewalk were bare of all leaves. The houses running the length of the street were dark and devoid of any life. The pavement was cracked and grey as if it had been bleached by the sun. It was hard to imagine the sun ever shining over this place because it seemed like I’d been walking for days and the sky remained dark and foreboding.

I could hear Pink Floyd’s ‘Wish you were here’ playing somewhere in the distance. I’d been walking towards the music for eons now and it was finally sounding closer. Suddenly the music was so loud that I stopped, surprised. In front of me was a young boy. His back was turned to me as he repositioned the needle on the record player and the song started up again. I didn’t question why or how this boy and record player suddenly – seemingly – appeared in front of me out of nowhere.

I reached for the boys shoulder and turned him around so that he was facing me. I wasn’t somehow surprised to see it was a much younger version of Kieran. He looked just as he had when we were seven and eight respectively and we went fishing with Dad’s brother, uncle Trevor. I vividly recalled the memory of us comparing whose fish was bigger and somehow I knew that it was the same day. He was wearing the same baggy shorts and Ninja Turtles shirt that he’d been wearing that day. He even had on the bucket hat with the hook secured in the front that uncle Trevor had given to him. The only thing that was different was the blood on his face. His face was bruised and his mouth was full of red, blood running down his chin and staining the front of his shirt red. That’s just how he looked last time I’d seen him...but where?

“I wish you were here.” He said, although cryptically and his voice no longer that of a child. Suddenly the endless street was gone and it was just me and Kieran and the record player in a hallway with walls so red that it looked like blood.

“But I am here. I’m right here,” I said, not knowing who I was trying to convince.

“So you think you can tell heaven from hell?” he asked.

“What? I don’t understand Kieran...”

“We’re just two lost souls.” The music abruptly stopped and he was gone. I looked around the small space and called out his name but it only echoed back to me. From the other end of the hall I could hear heavy footsteps echoing towards me. Something was familiar and equally terrifying about that sound. As the footsteps drew closer I broke out in a sweat, pure terror I imagine. Just as the figure was about to step from the shadows everything disappeared.

I sat up with a gasp. Someone was touching me and I frantically shoved them away. I looked around the room panicked and not realizing where I was. I came to grips with the fact that I’d been dreaming but I was still shaking all over. Almost immediately the hand was back on my arm, although before I could shake it off the touch was accompanied by a voice.

“Salem, are you alright?” I relaxed slightly and stopped fighting him. It was Lucius and I was in our room drenched in sweat but otherwise okay.

“What...what’s happening?” I asked, still feeling scared and unsure.

“I think you were having a nightmare,” he stated. I looked him over while I tried to organize my thoughts. He was sitting at the edge of my bed. His small – very cold – hand was still loosely wrapped around my wrist. His face was a mixture of worry and relief and it was admittedly the most emotion I’d ever seen from him.

“I...I thought that song was about war?” I questioned sounding delusional even to myself.

“What song?”

“In my dream...I,” I paused not knowing what to say. I slowly started to remember Kieran visiting, our ensuing fight, and me being dragged off to D-Lot. After that...I don’t so much remember. “What happened to me?”

“I’m not sure. They took you yesterday afternoon and made your...brother leave. Do you remember?”

“Yeah, I...yeah.”

“You were gone overnight and this morning they brought you back, strapped to a stretcher and completely unconscious. You’ve been sleeping all day,” Lucius explained.

“Oh. I don’t remember what they did to me,” I admitted, looking down at myself and seeing I was wearing nothing but a pair of white institute boxers. “Where are my clothes?” I asked after a moment, and even though the room was dim I could see he was blushing.

“I uh...you were still all bloody when they brought you back so I cleaned you up a bit,” he replied sheepishly.

“Oh, okay,” I replied easily while shifting so I was sitting beside Lucius at the side of my bed. I noticed a small bowl with blood stained water and a rag sitting on the end table. “My head hurts,” I commented randomly.

“No kidding, you should see your face,” he commented wryly. “Also...I hope you aren’t mad but Jackie wanted me to put your stuff away.” When he said that I stood quickly and whirled around the room noticing my empty bags and milk crate sitting at the end of my bed. The movement of standing left me lightheaded but I was too panicked to slow down. I did a quick survey of the room not knowing what to do.

“Fuck...shit...” I mumbled while I moved towards ‘my’ small dresser and yanked open a drawer. I immediately started riffling through the contents. In my search I spotted some jeans and hastily pulled them on while moving to search elsewhere.

“It’s okay, they didn’t find anything. Not that I approve or really know what to make of it but…I hid the stuff that I figured you didn’t want anyone finding,” Lucius spoke up from behind me. I turned to face him glancing quickly at the door to make sure it was shut – it was.

“Oh thank god! That’s so awesome Lucius – I nearly had a heart attack!” I exclaimed relieved. He didn’t say anything but as he shifted his feet uncomfortably a look of indifference flashed across his face. He didn’t make a move so, “Well? Where is it?” I demanded, sounding harsher than I intended. He turned away and slowly made his way to his bed where he proceeded to lift his mattress slightly and start handing things to me.

First were my smokes, which we slightly crushed, and then the Ziploc of drugs Kieran had given me. Next he handed me a bottle of Jack Daniels, the book and last was a small black case. This he was reluctant to give to me, as it contained a scalpel – obtained from my dad’s medicine bag when I was 14. I snatched it out of his hand.

“I don’t think he should have brought you this stuff,” he stated while turning back to me and my armload of goodies.

“Don’t worry about it,” I reassured him. “Come on, in the bathroom with me.” He slowly, almost regrettably followed me into the washroom and stepped aside so I could shut and lock the door. I didn’t even bother looking in the mirror as I put the toilet seat down and set my armload of stuff carefully on top. I sat on the edge of the bathtub and signaled for him to do the same, which he did. I immediately knocked a cigarette out of the pack and dug in the baggie for the lighter I’d seen in there. I lit the smoke, inhaling deeply. Once that was settled, I grabbed my book and turned slightly so I was facing Lucius.

“Do you know what this is?” I asked holding it up for him to see but he only replied with a shrug. “Well, it’s like a dictionary. A dictionary of pills,” I stated while randomly flipping it open. The book was made of a smaller than average three ring binder with pages resembling cardstock inside. “It’s got every medication I’ve ever been on, or been able to get my hands on in it,” I flipped to a page where at the top was a small baggy with a white and blue capsule inside that was stapled to the page. Beside it was the word ‘Prozac’.

“See,” I pointed out, “I have a specimen of course, the drug name and here,” I gestured bellow the name, “are all the generic names and here,” I said pointing further down the page at my careful writing, “is a description of the medication, and here are the side effects, dosage, overdose procedures and any other pertinent information. I have over 45 drugs classified in here.” I finished by flipping through the pages to give him an idea of how serious I was about it. He looked curious but also a little dumbfounded.

“What’s all this for anyways?”

“Reference I guess. I can’t really explain it but it’s like a diary of sorts for me. I started it when I was twelve,” I explained while flipping to the first page. The first drug I’d been on had been Ritalin and the description bellow was in child-like writing. The small white pill inside the baggy was crushed and indistinguishable in its powdered state.

“It’s kind of strange,” he remarked.

“I guess it is. I don’t show it to very many people. Only Kieran and my friend Damien, and now you,” I said while absentmindedly flipping through it. I finally closed the cover and reached for the small bag of weed inside the Ziploc and took a small amount and the papers out of it. I started breaking it up with my hands.

“So…that’s your brother?” Lucius asked completely off topic. He seemed to be ignoring what I was doing as I assumed he didn’t approve.

“Yeah, that was him,” I said simply as I proceeded to roll a small joint.

“You don’t look alike.”

“He’s adopted,” I explained vaguely.

“Oh. So...what were you fighting about?” he asked curiously as I sparked the joint while simultaneously dropped my cigarette butt on floor where it continued to smolder for a few seconds before going out. I inhaled deeply and exhaled with a sigh of...I don’t know, relief I guess.

“Normal shit I guess. I just wasn’t ready to see him,” I explained with a shrug as I rolled the joint between my fingers. I offered it to Lucius and he surprisingly took it. He looked completely unsure of what to do with it but eventually brought it to his lips and inhaled. Almost immediately he started coughing violently. I took the joint back once he’d stopped choking. I couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his expense.

“Why,” cough, “did he think you were...why’d he ask if you like you know...with me?” he asked vaguely. I pretty much knew what he was talking about.

“When he asked if I was fucking you?” I asked and he nodded slightly, a blush creeping over his face. “He’s just jealous is all,” I explained with a humourless laugh.

“Even if we were...” he trailed off obviously unsure of how to say it, “why would he be jealous?” he asked confused. I offered him the joint again but he shook his head.

“Well...” I trailed off not knowing what to say.

“You said that he’s the reason why you’re here,” he pointed out.

“These walls really are paper thin,” I remarked with a sigh before continuing. “Look, if I tell you, you have to keep it to yourself. Do you understand?” I asked.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t say anything! You’re my best friend, Salem,” he replied immediately. I dropped the rest of the joint on the floor next to my cigarette butt and put it out with my bare foot. I was a little surprised that he’d say that I’m his best friend, but I didn’t comment on it.

“We...since we were younger we’ve had this, I suppose, unconventional relationship...” I started before pausing not knowing how to continue.

“Like...a romantic relationship?” he asked sounding confused.

“No, more like physical,” I stated while looking him over. As what I was saying dawned on him I saw his expression shift slightly but couldn’t make out what he was thinking. “That’s not to say he didn’t want a ‘romantic’ relationship, he still does, it’s just...well he’s my brother and obviously I don’t feel the same way. I think he’s obsessive...like in love or something. He moved all the way out here...wherever here is. The thing is that it’s essentially like incest, I mean...I was having sex with my brother. Either way, once my parents found out...well, they sent me here. End of story.”

I stopped talking to gage his reaction but I couldn’t tell what he thought about it at all. I grabbed the bottle of Jack and unscrewed the lid and took a big gulp. It burnt like hell but I felt like I’d never needed a drink so badly in my life...

“So that’s why you’re here?” he asked simply.

“Well, pretty much. Them finding out was the tipping point, and I guess all the other stuff too,” I explained.

“What other stuff?”

“You know, the cutting, drugs, having sex with random people...my parents didn’t really approve. They’re kind of high society if you know what I mean,” he nodded, “I was an embarrassment to them I guess. They think Kieran’s the golden child.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. If that’s the case...why’d you do those things?” he asked, not sounding judgmental at all.

“I guess because of Kieran. I didn’t want to have sex with him...at first. I didn’t know how to deal with it and that’s when I started cutting myself. Eventually I accepted our ‘arrangement’ but I slept around and did drugs just to cope with it,” I explained as best I could. In my mind however I couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that what I’d just said was untrue.

“Why do you still want to cut yourself?” he asked, but I just shrugged. We sat in companionable silence for a moment before he started talking again. “Maybe...maybe it’s only fair if I tell you why I’m here?” he said but it sounded more like a question.

“Only if you want to,” I advised. We fell silent for a moment and finally he did start telling me and somehow I wasn’t surprised that the rumors were...almost...true.

“We were really poor…I think my mom was on drugs. I never really fit in at school and I never got along with my sister, who’s four years older than me. I...my mom’s boyfriend used to...my mom too...they’d make me do things. They raped me; I guess is one way to put it. Ever since I was young that’s all I really knew. They’d beat me if I didn’t do what they said. I guess I snapped eventually...I don’t remember much. I burnt our house down though...I wanted him to suffer. I didn’t mean to hurt my mom but...but...” he stopped here and I noticed he was shaking. I put an arm around his shoulder but other than that I didn’t know what to say. Dealing with emotions was never my forte. I also didn’t think he would paraphrase his story so quickly as I barely had time to register what he was saying.

“Its okay, that’s enough,” I said finally. I felt angry that the rumors were true...or that they existed at all. I was mad that the nurse who had told me described it like he was some kind of crazy murderer while he was really just a kid being abused by people he was supposed to trust.

“I’m sorry,” he said solemnly as if he’d done something wrong.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” I insisted feeling uncomfortable with the way he’d said it.

“I wish my sister knew how I felt. I wish...she had of helped me. She was only 16 but she’d moved in with her boyfriends’ family and I was all alone. I think she hates me.”

“That’s her problem then. She should have helped you,” I stated, but really I didn’t know what to say or how I even felt about it all.

“Everyone here thinks I’m a freak. I mean, it’s kind of true...I’m the only person in this ward who’s ever killed someone,” he muttered dejectedly.

I could see that he still felt a lot of guilt about it. I don’t know how you wouldn’t; yet at the same time I was intrigued. I’d never seen him express so much...personality. I’m sure I seem sick for enjoying his misery but after living with him for almost two months I couldn’t help but be fascinated by the spectrum of emotion that was playing across his face.

“You aren’t a freak, Lucius; and you aren’t the only one who’s killed someone,” I reassured him. He turned to look at me, surprised, and I felt obligated to explain. “I uh... I sold some pills to this homeless guy last year. Two days later he was in the paper. He’d overdosed and died,” I paused, “So...don’t feel so bad.” He looked at me with a mixture of shock and horror.

“What?” he asked, sounding baffled.

“Look, it’s not a big deal. I didn’t force that guy to take the pills and you didn’t ask to be abused by your parents. There’s nothing to feel bad about.”

“You are messed up,” he declared before standing. All the expression was wiped off of his face and he gave me a blank stare.

“What is your problem? I only told you that to make you feel better,” I replied trying not to sound as offended as I felt.

“Well I don’t feel better!” he exclaimed. “I feel guilty, and I should! So should you, for that matter! I can’t believe you can say all that and not be ashamed!” The emotion had returned to his face, but unluckily for me it was a display of disgust and disbelief.

“Do you think it’s easy to look the way I do and not be ashamed?” I asked, somewhat serious. The fact was that I really wasn’t ashamed. I mean, sometimes I felt bitter about it but I can’t change what’s already been done and I’m not one to dwell on the past.

“I don’t know, but you’re really good at it,” he replied bitterly before yanking open the bathroom door.

“I don’t understand why you’re so mad. I even shared my weed with you.” I stood and followed him out of the bathroom.

“Of course you don’t understand! You’re too…fucked to understand. I didn’t even want to smoke any of that and now I feel weird. So thanks a lot,” he said the last part sarcastically. It was probably the first time I’d heard him say something sarcastic. Maybe I was rubbing off on him?

“You are such a pussy,” I declared. He didn’t bother to respond before he threw himself face first on his bed. I sat across from him on my own bed and glared at him. I folded my arms and felt a stinging pain on the inside of my elbow. I looked, and was unsurprised to see a purple bruise stemming from several needle marks. On closer inspection my other arm looked identical. I felt slightly outraged that I’d been stuck with needles (containing what?) while I’d been unconscious. Just as I was about to expand on my rage over being drugged up I heard a small noise come from Lucius.

I stilled, unsure of if I’d even heard it at all. But then a moment later it was there again. It was like a mixture between a moan and a whimper. I rolled my eyes, feeling bad about it, and stood up. I approached his bed but said nothing. There was that sound again. It was impossible now for me to ignore the fact that he was crying. Okay, I take back what I said; this is definitely the most emotion I’d ever seen him display and I couldn’t even see his face.

“Look, I’m sorry okay?” I tried while sitting on the edge of his bed. He just moved further away curling into a fetal position. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.” I waited but he didn’t respond. I still couldn’t see his face but he was continuing to make those pathetic whimpering noises. I touched his shoulder gently but he shrugged me off. At this point I was starting to get impatient and even a little mad. Was I really that bad?

“Look, I just told you like my darkest secret and now you’re mad at me. How can I trust you not to say anything?” I shot at him not bothering to conceal the irritation in my voice. “I’ve been exceptionally nice to you compared to most people and you can’t even throw me a bone. I feel like every time I talk to you, you start acting like a little girl. You need to be a man and face shit or else you’re going to be stuck in this nuthouse for the rest of your sorry life.” I stopped talking for a moment seeing how he’d react. He started to sob louder but other than that he said nothing.

“I’m not trying to make you cry, I just want you to see the whole picture. We’re in a fucking mental institution if you’ve forgotten. Nobody cares if I hurt your feeling,” I stopped talking feeling bitter but also kind of bad. “After what you just told me I can kind of understand why you’re being so melodramatic. However, after what I just told you I figured you’d understand why I am the way I am and why I say the things I do. I’m not going to just sit here and let you tell me what a terrible person I am after all the shit I’ve put up with in my life,” I paused not knowing if I should continue my onslaught. Finally he shifted slightly. While I still couldn’t see his face I could tell he was wiping at it with his sleeve.

“W-why are you being s-so n-nasty to me?” he asked sounding completely pitiable.

“Because you’re being small minded. There’s a whole fucking world out there full of people who don’t know you and who don’t give a shit about you. I’m actually trying to be nice, shit you even said I was your best friend, and yet still you can’t accept my generosity. You act like you’re so fucking sanctimonious while I’m like the biggest asshole in existence.”

Finally he turned to me, his eyes red and his face tear stained. “You are an asshole. Why are you saying all of this to me? Cant you go five minutes without saying something mean?”

I didn’t know what to say to that, considering he had a point. What’s the point of being nice if you don’t get anything in return? Either way it was hard to think of any of that while he was staring at me with that tragically hurt look on his face. Even more unsettling was the fact that I liked the pained look he was giving me. Was it wrong of me to be turned on by the fact that I made someone cry?

“You should know better by now. I’m not being mean, I’m just being realistic,” I stated. He didn’t look convinced as he continued to wipe at his tear streaked face. He didn’t say anything and didn’t make any attempts to move so I lay down beside him. I sighed, unsure of what to say. I obviously had problems when it came to the right thing to say. In this situation though, I don’t think he’d appreciate anything that I had to say.

“Reality must be very cruel then,” he finally responded.

“It is,” I agreed. I didn’t know what else to say. My eyes flicked over his face. His eyes were red and a bit puffy and his white-blonde hair stuck to his face and fell into his eyes. I couldn’t resist reaching over and brushing the hair out of his face. He immediately recoiled shooting me a confused look.

“Why are you being nice after you said all of those terrible things to me?” he asked suspiciously.

“I feel bad,” I shrugged. “Besides, you kind of remind me of this girl I used to date. She was so meek and whiny and...” Before I could finish that thought I suddenly found myself on the floor. Did he really just shove me? He was up and out the door before I could even pick myself up. I lay where I’d fallen for a few moments and realizing that he wasn’t coming back I slowly climbed to me feet.

“What a douche bag,” I muttered under my breath while rubbing at my newly scuffed elbow. I slowly made my way across the room to the bathroom. As soon as I entered it I was bombarded with my reflection for the first time since having my face rearranged. I stepped closer to the mirror, barely able to believe that it was my reflection at all.

My right eyebrow was split open, the wound looking red and angry against my bruised face. Both of my eyes were black and my nose...well, it didn’t really look right. Aside from being a nasty purplish colour, it was pretty obvious that my nose had been broken...again. Aside from some minor discoloration, I didn’t look too bad. Okay, that’s a lie, I looked terrible. I groaned weakly before sliding to the floor.

What did I do to deserve this fate? Did my parents really hate me so much as to send me to a second rate institution? With all the money they have they could have at least sent me to a better place. That thought made me groan. I put my hands over my face and stifled a laugh; a maniacal laugh. It felt like if I let it escape I might not be able to stop.

I stood up quickly, shaking my head. I paced the room before putting the bottle of Jack and the baggy in the tank behind the toilet. It wasn’t a very good hiding spot but it would have to do for now. I continued pacing not knowing how to deal with the random thoughts of Lucius and Kieran and Don and all the other things that had been preoccupying my mind lately. I sighed loudly before moving over to the tub. I crammed a facecloth in the drain and turned the water on full. I slowly stripped out of my clothes as I absently watched the tub fill with ice cold water.

Once the tub was half full I shut the water off and simply sat naked on the side of the tub for a while. Eventually I reached for the small black case at my feet and extracted the scalpel from within. At first I simply dragged it down my inner thigh and watched the small beads of crimson erupt from my pale flesh. It was a sight that never disturbed me but more often than not it turned me on. I know, a real masochist, right?

I finally moved on and began randomly carving shapes into my leg. First a star, and then some random triangles and hearts, and then more stars. My mind was too preoccupied to make anything more elaborate. Once I could feel the blood drying as it ran down my legs I finished by slashing two X’s into each of my inner elbows; marring the bruising and needle marks until the crook of each arm looked like nothing more than two large smears of blood.

I dropped the knife to the floor and vaguely registered the sound it made when it hit the tiles. I slowly lowered myself into the cold tub; my arousal long forgotten. I sank into the water until my whole body was submerged except for my head. I noticed with fascination as my blood made small swirling patterns in the water until the water finally took on a uniform reddish hue. I closed my eyes and tried to forget. To forget that cold room, and the implements and slate walls...the needles...and the darkness...


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A/N:: I really, really don't like this chapter. It's so disconnected not to mention it's a total filler chapter. I wanted to rewrite the whole thing, especially the end, but I figured I have to rewrite half of this story as it is, so for now this is what you get. Eventually, possibly not until I'm done writting this, I'm planning on revamping all chapters. For now though, I'll leave giant holes in the plot and make it painfully hard to read. So sorry, enjoy anyways. Much love : Lynz