Page 32 of Asylum

Strange.

With sedatives, I always wake up in a rage, but not the past couple of times. Something has changed, and it frightens me because I don’t know if it’s a good thing or bad. Am I getting better? Or has the disorder progressed? Chances are, I’ll never find out. Atlas doesn’t give a fuck, and I’m sure the other doctors here are the same. I’m on my own, with no way to find answers.

I push myself up from the bed, leaning back against the cold, concrete wall. It takes a few moments for my eyes to focus, but when they do, I’m surprised the slot on my door is open, a stream of light shining into the dark, damp cell. That flicker of joy is short lived as I look around the area.

A bucket sits in the corner of the room, a roll of toilet paper on the ground beside it. Small pieces of the tissue are scattered across the floor, surrounded by rat droppings.

I guess Gus wanted to play.

My nose scrunches at the thought of using the contaminated tissue to wipe myself, but I’m distracted as a foul smell assaults my nostrils. Wetness registers against my skin, and my head hangs as I realize I’ve pissed the bed.

How long have I been knocked out?

A hint of body odor hits me next, and I cringe. I feel like a fucking caged animal, unbathed, using the bathroom where it lays.

Tears threaten to fall, but I grit my teeth, the action sending sharp pains through my jaw, shooting up to my sensitive temples. Gently as possible, I prod the areas where he put the metal thing on my head, sending shockwaves of electricity through my brain. The skin is crusty and tender, but I’m grateful I don’t remember the pain. My body is sore, and I know it’s from my limbs tensing throughout the ordeal. My jaw is killing me, and I open my mouth, working it back and forth. It doesn’t help, and I sigh, feeling hopeless and defeated.

I’m in hell.

Literal fucking hell, and my doctor is Lucifer in the flesh.

A shadow snuffs out the light before a bowl and a plastic cup are shoved through the opening in the door. I jump from the bed, my legs trembling, dizziness assaulting me as I rush to stop them. “Excuse me!”

The orderly turns back, but he doesn’t speak.

“Can you tell Nurse Carter I need to speak with her?”

The slot closes, and I’m forced into darkness, wondering if he’ll deliver the message. I feel around, taking the bowl and cup, heading towards the bed. Avoiding the urine stain, I cross my legs, leaning back against the wall, staring into the void as I gulp down the water. My stomach burns with hunger as I dip my finger into the bowl, bringing a scoop of slop to my lips. My throat constricts as I gag around the texture, holding my breath to avoid the taste. Breathing through my nose as I swallow, it’s absolutely fucking disgusting, but without it I’ll starve.

That doesn’t seem so bad.

Intrusive thoughts brush the corners of my mind, and I shake my head, refusing to entertain them.

I won’t give up.Not yet.I’m not sure why the hell I’m clinging onto this existence, but there has to be more to life than this.

The metal slot in the door flies open, startling me. “What is it, Miss Sterling?”

I’m rooted to the spot, making no attempt to move. “I’d like to take a shower and use a toilet.”

“Your bathroom privileges have been revoked, including showers. You are to stay in your room until further instructions are given by Dr. Stone.”

My chest caves in at her words.

I’m nothing more than an animal.

When I don’t reply, the clicking of her heels alerts me she’s walked away. She left the slot open, and I’m thankful the streamof light has returned. Before I get lost in my head again, a squeaking noise comes from below, and tears prick my eyes.

Gus.

I chug the rest of the water before lying down on the edge of the bed. I can’t stomach any more of the shit food, so I slowly place the bowl on the floor, leaving my arm dangling over the side of the mattress.

“Hi, buddy. I’ve missed you.”

He hesitates for a few moments before moving closer, his nose twitching.

“You can have it, Gus Gus. Come on, cutie pie.”

He reaches the bowl, standing up on his hind legs to look over the rim. He looks up at me, and I smile. Gently, I flip the bowl over, emptying the food onto the floor. He dives in. Taking a chance, I hover my index finger above him, slowly moving closer to pet his dark, gray fur. He jumps back, but the lure of food brings him forward again. “I’ll never hurt you, Gus. You’re my friend.” I rest my finger on his back, softly running it down the length of his spine. He tenses, looking up at me. “You’re my only friend.”