My Personal Creative Outlet

Patient #7H0M45

Sweat dripped from the end his nose. He hated that. It felt disgusting. His clammy, shaky fingers clenched around the amber medicine bottle. 

The red, angry clock said it was 2 am. The spotlight outside flickered like a seizure. The thick collar around his throat felt like it was choking the life out of him. 

He couldn't make his hands work to open the lid. His fingers were trembling too much. Useless. He was useless. 

He hurled the bottle across the room, shattering it against the cement wall. He sunk against the dark corner of the wall, tucking his scratched legs and arms against his rib cage. 

I can't do anything. I'm useless. 

Useless.

Useless.

"Not to me," hissed a voice.

"But I am, Petty, I am," Thomas wailed.

The shadow came out from its hiding place and crouched down to Thomas' buried face. It looked like a person, but it walked on all fours.

"You are not useless." It twisted its head to peer at the pills and broken glass on the ground. "I knew you could get that bottle without anyone noticing. You were perfect." 

"I- I couldn't get it open, a- and I th- threw it and i- it broke," Thomas sobbed.

"Then you better hide it, so the nurse does not find out. They are watching, you know."

"No, they're n- not. I p- put my shirt over the camera," he sniffed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

The creature's face cracked into what could have been a grin. "Fantastic. You are doing so good, Thomas. Now, go clean up your mess."

Thomas crawled to where the glass and pills were scattered. He gathered up the glass and set it on the small window ledge, while he tucked the pills under the thin mattress he rarely slept on.  

He had only just hidden the last pill when the fluorescent lights flicked on, queuing the nurse to enter with her metal cart of needles and knives. 

Thomas hated her.

"Sit," she ordered with a pudgy finger to the bed. "Let's not make this difficult." 

Thomas obeyed, tugging at the collar, in case it decided to bite him. It always bit him while she was there.

The creature retreated underneath the bed. "Let me do it, I hate her," it growled, clawing the floor in anticipation. 

"No, Petty, I can't," Thomas hissed under his breath.

"What was that?" demanded the nurse, stabbing the syringe into his wrist.

"Nothing, he didn't say anything," he said, wincing against the needle. He didn't want to watch as the syringe filled with his blood. 

"Let me do it, she is distracted while taking your blood. I can catch her. I can make her hurt," it roared. The creature was restless, hungry.

The nurse set the syringe parallel to the other tools on the cart. Thomas was glad she was leaving, she smelled just like the disgusting food he had to eat. All he had to do was submit and she'd be gone.

The nurse's piggy eyes spotted a pill on the floor he'd missed. She snatched it up before he could hide it. 

"You've stolen drugs," she snapped. "Where's the rest?"

"I- I don't know," his voice trembled.

"Liar," she snarled. "Do you know what happens when you steal and lie?" She pulled a black remote from her pocket, brandishing it menacingly.