Asylum » 5SOS [DISCONTINUED]

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Ashton was plagued with nightmares the first night he spent in hell.

He tossed and turned on Luke’s bunk, horrifying images spilling into his brain from all of the stories Calum had fed him. He saw Calum, Luke, Michael, Marty, that pretty girl who always sat next to him in gatherings shriveling into old people, small and frail, moaning about their aches and pains.

He dreamed that the warden was forcing the strange medicine down his throat while a bunch of nurses held his mouth open. The black liquid piled in the back of his throat, but refused to slide into his stomach. Was he having an allergic reaction? He choked and gurgled and coughed, but he was drowning in his own body. He passed out.

When he woke up again, he was lying on a hard, flat bed. His head, hands, feet, and waist were all strapped down to the bed firmly with leather belts. The warden appeared before him, smiling cynically. He wore a blue dentist suit and pulled a white mask over his nose and mouth. He held up a pair of shiny tools in his hands: one of them a razor sharp knife, the other a polished scalpel. Ashton struggled violently, but he couldn’t break free.

“Don’t worry,” the warden said in a deep, husky voice. Ashton could understand him clearly despite his mask. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

He plunged the tools downwards before giving his patient any anesthetics.

Just as the scalpel sliced into his brain, Ashton awoke from his nightmares. He was breathing hard, and his forehead was slick with cold sweat. He swiped his clammy hands against his hospital gown and slowly sat up, his head and heart pounding. Ashton looked around, searching for a sign of comfort.

Everything was as still as could be. The curtain covering the shower didn’t sway an inch, and the mattress beneath Ashton hardly crunched when he moved. He felt like an unnatural silence was pressing in on his ears, and he shook his head to clear it. He swung his head down and into Calum’s bunk, where his new roommate was sleeping soundly, curled up in a ball. Luke lay at the bottom of the bunk frame, having given up on trying to get his bed back. He snored softly, occasionally pulling his hospital gown lower over his knees in his sleep.

Ashton sat up and ran his hands through his damp hair. He didn’t like his new home, despite what he had said earlier. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was frightened. He hated needles. That scalpel in his dream had scared the living daylights out of him, and he knew that now he was here with the special patients, the ones who had already been surgically operated on, he was going to have to face a sharp needle before long. He shivered and shook his head again. He had to get out of there. But how?

Ashton knew that any attempt of escaping this cell was futile. The gaps between the bars were much too narrow for him to squeeze through, and he had no chance at ever stealing the key to unlock the door. There were so many! How would he know to pick the right one? Besides, even if he did happen to get out of the cell, the basement was heavily guarded. He would never be able to sneak past them. And even if he did manage to do that, someone would catch him before long. They would inflict the horrible Punishment on him, whatever that was.

Ashton sighed and laid back down on his bed. His mother used to say to him, “Ashton, as long as you work hard and try your best, you will never have to worry a day in your life.” But he was worrying. He was worrying lots. And no matter how hard he worked or how much he tried his best, the result was always going to be the same: the Punishment at its worst.