Upheaving Crooked Orchards

Part One

  Content Warning : This AU depicts a neglectful psychiatric ward and has implications of patients being tortured/abused using {currently banned/forbidden} treatments. There is also depictions of gore/violence so please be warned . This AU is a work of fiction, remember that it is not real. Please watch after yourself and don't continue if it's a sensitive topic for you <3.

..

  A nurse made her way through a long hallway, her heels alerting her presence as they clicked on the hard floor. She opened two large doors and entered the front office to the hospital where she worked. Waiting for her was a little boy--he was small, pale, and seemed to be dazed, as if in shock. He had dirty blond hair that was tame at the top, but grew teased at the ends as they jutted out around his head. He looked at her with his eyes, almost sad or worried. The nurse gave the boy an outfit that included a hospital gown, long pants, and two small shoes, all drained of color and left with an off-white appearance. 

  "Let's go." She said with a quiet but stern voice.

  She put her hand on the boy's back and led him away from the office and into the heart of the hospital. The boy kept looking back, curious why his parents left him in this white building alone.

  "Keep going." She muttered.

  He was taken to a room where the nurse helped him get into his new attire. The gown swallowed his body but the nurse didn't seem to notice. Once she tied the back of his overgrown garment, she took his hand, left the room and continued down the hall. He looked around, listening to the faint sounds of frantic people--some screams, some sobs, and as they kept going, the hospital grew more eerie. He hesitated but she pulled him along. The nurse came to a stop at another door, shoved the little boy inside the room and approached the doctor reading a chart.

  "Here's Michael Myers." She interrupted his reading, "He needs to be taken to the ward."

  She left before he could speak but he looked down at the small child. He grunted and sneered as he studied what he was looking at.

  "My name is Doctor Kavell," He said before returning to his chart, "I'll be with you in a minute."

  The young child stood at the door, his hospital gown reaching the floor, amplifying his small stature.

  "I hear the police couldn't get you to say a word about what you did." Kavell murmured then sighed, "That's alright, nothing we can't fix."

    The man in the white coat came from behind Michael and grabbed his upper arm.

"Get away from the damn door," He said, yanking the kid towards him, "they're not coming back for you."

The man opened the door and left the room with the child. He walked down the hall, Michael trailing behind him. His little legs unable to keep up and his oversized gown kept getting caught under his shoes. Had it not been for the man dragging him, Michael would've slipped many times. He was taken to another room—it smelled sterile, everything was clean and white. The lights were bright, Michael had to squint his eyes to adjust to the intensity. The doctor turned around, put his hands in between Michael's arms and lifted him up from under his armpits, placing him in a large leather chair.

"Stay here." He ordered before turning to one of the tables to read a chart.

Michael sat in the chair—while he was unresponsive and seemed disconnected from the world around him, his heart sank and began to beat faster as he noticed a tray full of needles, wires, patches, and cleaning supplies. They were all for him. He turned his head to Kavell who was fumbling with another tray, loud clanks erupted from his area as a tool fell onto the aluminum surface.

  "I'm gonna give you something here," Kavell held up a needle and gave it a light push to view the liquid coming out, "it will keep you awake during the procedure. Can't have you going unconscious when I need you the most, can I?"

  He walked over to Michael and lifted up his baggy sleeve, sticking the needle into his arm. The boy didn't flinch but observed as the liquid drained from the needle and into his blood. He was able to get a close look at Kavell. His dark hair was peppered with silver, more-so at the roots near his forehead. His eyes were the color of the rich coffee he'd been drinking. His hands seemed sturdy but veins protruded over the bones as each finger flexed. Kavell straightened himself, tilted his head and stared at the small child. The doctor's eyes almost looked as lifeless as Michael's, but Kavell had a more sinister tone about him. A muscle didn't move as the man spoke, but he talked with intent, as if trying to sound sincere.

  "We'll start slow, Michael." Kavell reached and grabbed a scalpel from the tray, "A simple scar. A boy your age will most likely yelp from it, but nothing more." 

  Michael watched as the doctor showed him the sharp edged tool, but when the boy showed no signs of concern, Kavell grew annoyed. He leaned in to Michael's face and allowed the scalpel to glide across the bridge of the boy's nose. There was pain, but Michael didn't express it. Kavell placed the tool back in the tray and gazed at a pair of tweezers.

  "I suppose if the cut doesn't get you, pulling the scar apart will." Kavell grabbed the tweezers and returned to the child.

..

  There were many patients on the drafty ward. The hospital was called Smith's Grove Sanitarium, but local kids and teens--and even some of the staff--dubbed it "Home of The Deranged." After a few hours, Kavell threw Michael out of the room, almost shoving him into another doctor. The boy's nose was bleeding and he sported a few scars on his arms and hands. The one on the bridge of his nose was wider, but he still showed no signs of speaking.

  "This damn kid didn't even make a whisper!" Kavell shouted, ripping off his gloves, "I'll bring in the other options tomorrow, take him to his room."

  The doctor dropped what he was doing and took Michael to the ward's main headquarters. There were other children, but they all seemed timid and frightened. The doctor opened the door to one of the rooms and let Michael inside before closing and bolting it. 

  "I think that kid's new.." A little boy whispered to his friend.

  "Did you see the blood?" The friend rested his head on his knees. 

  Michael stood in his room, the scent of his own blood filled his tiny nostrils. Something in him kept him from speaking, but now he wanted to beat Kavell at his own game.