The Torment

Seven

"I've been looking all over the asylum for you, what's up with that girl sleeping in your bed though? We're trusting everyone now?" Clinton joked, closing the conservatory door behind him. I gripped the newspaper tighter as he made his way towards me.

Trust. I thought to myself.

"Let's not talk about trust, Hattersley" I smiled bitterly and his smile fell. His ocean eyes wandered towards the newspaper in my hand, with his picture on display under the title Viscount.

"So you know." He asked, his voice lowering a decibel.

"What are you?" I asked, abruptly. He lowered his gaze and stayed quiet. This was the first time I'd seen him this silent. "I keep seeing you at these odd hours, the press says you're dead and you're right here-" Before I could finish, I broke down in sobs. He leaned closer to me and I fell backwards.

"Don't- Don't touch me, you're not real, you're all in my head" I shouted and he stopped his hand mid-way from touching my shoulder.

"Yes, I am dead. But I'm not in your head, you're seeing the real me" He begged but I only cried more.

"It's the drugs, it's the goddamn drugs. You're just like my father!" I shouted again, backing against the wall.

"Your father was a hallucination!" he shouted right back and I whimpered upon which he frowned.

"Listen, Muriel, I'm real, I'm not going to harm you" He leaned closer and touched my face. His other hand grabbed mine and he touched his face with it. "You can feel me, I'm not a hallucination" he explained as my hand rested against his cheek.

"B..But..Patrick can't see you" I added.

"Patrick can't see me because I don't let him see me, but he can still hear me" He stated. I stared into the whirl of his blue orbs, watched him look concerned.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I questioned, suddenly gaining my sense and feeling rage rise inside me. I yanked his hand away from my face and stood up, glaring at him. All the rage that I had bottled inside me breaking all borders.

"You said I could trust you!" I shouted. "I trusted you because I thought I knew you! I trusted you with the plan because I thought you'd help me!. You asked me not to trust Patrick when you're really the one I shouldn't have trusted!" " I added.

"I will help you, Muriel-"

"You can't help me, no one can. I will stay here for the rest of my sorry life and wish that death consumes me before those doctors can. You know what, Clinton? It's all starting to make sense, all that Phoebe said, maybe this is my fate too"

"Murie-"

"Save it" I cut him off and stormed out of the room. On my way, I saw Quinn looking at me worriedly who continued to run after me till I reached my room.

"Is everything alright?" She asked, keeping a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm fine, please, just not now" I spoke in a low voice and entered my room. Feelings of betrayal and doubt drowned me and I forced myself to sleep. When it didn't work, I tossed to my side and glanced at the bottle of medicine.

Sedatives.

Removing the cap, I took a swig and laid on my back. In a few minutes, everything felt lively and blurry again. I didn't want to think about anything, I was no longer depressed or stressed out. The feeling was synonymous to falling from the building and just keep falling- never hitting the rock bottom.

In the haze of my mind, I reached for the map I'd hidden inside my pillow. Earlier, I'd taken away the newspapers but left the map to study it further. My hand circled the area between the pillow but I couldn't feel the map and realisation hit me: The map was gone.

Horrified, I went for the door and stepped into the lobby to find Clinton. Whatever conflict we had now, could not come between the plan- that was as long as he was helping.

"Clinton?" I asked, roaming in the lobby. The silence was eerie, the lobby felt colder and my head got dizzier. I stumbled over something hard and was almost going to fall, but I regained my balance. Turning around, I saw I hadn't stepped on something rather than someone, a patient, and the man looked angry. Within seconds, he caught a hold of my hair and yanked me backwards.

"Ugly woman" He spoke and despite the pain in my head, I managed to kick him in his gut. His grip on my hair got loose and I ran through the lobby, tripping over the sleeping patients and looking over my shoulder for the man who only got closer.

I turned into a hallway and ran towards the conservatory. Behind me, I could hear the man shout but he'd lost me when I took the turn into another corridor. I sighed, locking the conservatory door. It was either the effect of drugs or my defence mechanism when I heard something break behind me.

"Clinton?" I whispered. The lights started to turn on, one by one, revealing the most horrific scene in front of my eyes.

Quinn stood beside a blonde woman who I remembered from the conservatory fire- the doctor. Beside her were the three doctors I'd seen carrying the dead body on the night I painted the woman's picture.

And in front of them, enclosed in a body bag, was a body.

"The main culprit" The blonde doctor spoke, getting on her knees to unzip the bag. What I saw next made my heart stop, and I screamed. It was Patrick, dead and destroyed. His face was burned, his nose cut off and his eyes-those were the most horrific part.

His eyes were both gouged out.

"We have no place for traitors" The doctor spoke. "Or rats" She stuck out her hand towards Quinn who smirked at me before putting the map in the doctor's hand. I glared at her. One of the three doctors walked up to me and I glanced at his badge labelled with his name.

Freeman.

"You're going to have a great time, kid" He flashed a bone-chilling smile and I felt a sharp pain at the side of my head before I fell into unconsciousness.

*

The first thing I felt after waking up was pain. Everywhere. It felt like I was run over by a bus and I was pretty sure my joints were creaking. How long was I knocked out? No idea. I flickered my eyes open, the sight of a dark room inviting me to reality. I could feel the cold tiles of the room biting my skin.

I tried moving but my hands were tied at my back, and my neck felt heavy, which meant that I was cuffed. The cold metal around my neck and wrists started feeling heavy and tight.

"Let me out!" I shouted, looking in all directions. Anxiety started creeping up on me when I couldn't find any source of light- not even a flicker and I closed my eyes. Taking deep breaths, I imagined myself in fresh air, outside, with lots and lots of plants. A tear slipped when I realised how long it'd been since I was last outside.

"You're awake" There was a voice from a mic before the lights in the room started to turn on, one by one. My breath hitched when I looked around the room. The white walls, the white tiles, lack of windows and a single screen, this was no normal room, it was solitary confinement.

"Let me go, please," I shouted. I couldn't see who was behind the screen but I wished whoever it was, would have mercy.

"Face the wall, if you attempt to attack, you will be killed instantly" The voice spoke again. Terrified, I scurried towards the wall and stood with my face towards it. Something behind me shifted before I felt two hands grip either of my arms and another life the rock which was chained with my cuffs.

 They dragged me out of the cell and we entered a hallway which looked dark and felt cold. I counted my steps, forty, before we stood in front of a door made entirely out of steel. And from behind the doors, I heard machines run, the sound almost splitting my head in two.