~The Beauty Within~{The Evil Within}

~Ch. 2 Solitude~

 Day... why do I even bother. I've lost track of the days. It feels like I've been in here for a very long time. What I have done to keep myself entertained and busy is writing. Whether it be song lyrics or journal entries. If I wrote and kept my entries safe then maybe one someone would find my notes and see what I've been going through and hopefully get me out... if I don't die first...

My lyrics would tell my situation, my life. Also to give me comfort to hang in there. One lyric goes like this:

All of this is Temporary

This regards to telling myself, me being locked up in the nut house is only temporary... I'll get out...

All of this is Temporary

All of this is Temporary

All of this is Temporary

Not only that, what's strange is that they moved me to a different room. I was moved to a different section of the mental hospital. To an area that was mostly vacant, solitary confinement. I didn't know why, but I heard whispers from nurses that police were at the hospital responding to "suspicious" activity, whatever that meant. But they left, without investigating. Help was so close. Ever since then, they moved me deeper into hospital so I wouldn't be found. If I was going to be this much trouble, why keep me alive?

The more I'm in this solitary confinement, in the hospital, being overtired by the drugs, day in to day out, repeating, I'm slowly going mad.

All of this is Temporary

I'll get out. I'll see my mom. I'll see my cat. I'll get my second chance of my life.

Not going to lie, I was nervous. I heard there were patients disappearing. They could be transferred, or being experimented on but die in the process... but they stopped doing that ages ago, right? Sitting here, waiting to see if you're next in line to be tortured then die is a terrible feeling...

The door to my cell opened. Dr. Jimenez showed his face as he came in. I just looked straight ahead, trying to ignore his presence.

"Ember," he started, "Having a good day, I presume?"

I mentally rolled my eyes. I remained silent.

"Here's what's going to happen. My colleague is going to analyze you. Just answer honestly," he said with a warning, "and after we're done, I'll be giving you your doses from now on?"

I sneaked a glance at him. Where was Stella?

"Stella is... taking a break until further notice." Jimenez answered her.

Well that's not suspicious at all. One strange thing is happening after the other. What the hell is going on outside of my cell?

The door opened and I froze. The bandaged man that looked at me while bathing. So he was a doctor, not a patient.

"This is my colleague. He'll be studying you today. It won't take long." Jimenez said as he tucked himself in the corner.

Weird that he didn't introduce the bandaged man's name and the fact that he's staying put in the room.

"Just to be sure you won't try anything" Jimenez warned as he glared at me, which kindly I glared back.

There goes a chance of asking for help...

The bandaged man watched this and stood in front of me with a clipboard and pen.

"Ember Young" the man said looking at his clip board. His voice was raspy, monotone.

"How old are you?" he asked, staring.

"Uh?" I answered softly. How long has passed? I tried guessing his age, but because of his deformed body and the bandages, it was hard to.

"23" Jimenez answered for me.

"When were you brought into Beacon?" he asked.

I hesitated. The man noticed this and glanced at Jimenez.

"She was brought in when she was 19. She's been with us for 4 years now." Jimenez said.

It's been that long?!

"Why were you brought in here for?" he asked.

"I-" I started to say but Jimenez cut me off.

"Ember was brought in for being dangerous-"

"Jimenez, leave us" the man cut off the doctor.

Jimenez went to protest, but with a glare and a raspy threat from the man, Jimenez stood down. He walked out of the cell, not forgetting to give me a glare and a warning that I don't try anything.

"You can speak freely, now that Jimenez isn't here. Don't even think of lying." the man warned, making me tremble.

"I was brought in because..." I took in a breath, "I caused an incident, killing many people. But I only did it to escape... and then they locked me up in here. I'm not crazy..." my voice faded as I said the last part.

The man studied her and wrote something down.

"What medication have they been giving you?" he asked nonchalantly.

"I don't know. They never told me what it was. It just made me feel tired. I have no energy to say anything or fight back."

"I assume they're force drugging you. The drugs aren't helping at all." he stated, making me shake my head.

"... I've noticed you staring at my scars" he said, glaring.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to. I was just hoping you weren't a survivor from... what I did." I said quietly.

This peaked his interest.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, his gray eyes staring into my blue ones.

"I wouldn't know whether to feel bad or not, from the situation."

He stared at me. Have I said something wrong? It looked like he was thinking.

"If you must know, this incident that you caused, I wasn't involved with." he revealed, making me relieved.

"I have what I needed to know. I'll be back for more." he said as he was about to leave.

"Wait! You never told me your name, what am I supposed to call you?" I asked, curiously.

It looked like he hesitated. And without looking back at me he said-

"Just Dr. R." he then shut my door and the lock activated.

For the next few years, Dr. R kept coming back, asking more questions and talking of general stuff. Overall, he knew I wasn't showing any signs of being crazy and was intrigued on why I was locked up in here, but he never thought to help me escape...

His visits were during the day with Jimenez on the sidelines changed to his visits being by himself even to him visiting during closing hours, which was odd. At times he would look over me. My eyes, hair, whenever my shoulder was exposed by the slanted white shirt. I should've been happy somewhat. I had someone who visited me from time to time when before I was all alone.

As much as his visits were frequent, I still barely knew him. There were a few visits whenever we talked, he seemed to found an excuse to touch my face as he was checking something while staring into my eyes. And after a few seconds, he would dismiss it saying he thought I was reacting to the drugs they gave me or something. And another time, he pushed a strand of my hair back from my face. I don't know if this wasn't appropriate behavior between a doctor and a "patient". But I wasn't a patient. And deep down I liked it... despite his scars, disfigured image, and gave off a cold expression, he affected me in some way.

After many visits from him, he suddenly vanished. Jimenez never talked about him again. Stella never came back. For a long time, they kept increasing the amount of the drugs they were giving me. I feel more tired... I can't move... I can barely speak... I was now alone again...

All of this is Temporary...