Chapter One
"I know you think I'm crazy." I whispered across the dark room to the middle-aged man sitting adjacent to me. His face partly shrouded in the half-light produced by the antique, light bulb. "They all do, that's why you're here, though, isn't it? Are you not just another in the extensive line of self-riotous doctors trying to understand me? To cure me? If you are, then I warn you, please do not waste your time here."
He did not reply, only sat stiffly in his padded leather chair and studied me. I loathed him, his blue eyes failed him when he tried to hide his interest. It made me feel like an animal in a zoo, on exhibit and suffering separation from my natural habitat. His full lips twisted into an arrogant smirk, creating lines that only further extended the depth of his certainty. Yes, in his feeble mind he knew all the answers, I could see it written in every line and divot of his skin. He would spend the next year putting me on various unnecessary medications and treatment plans, and none of them would work. He would leave, questioning his aptitude and the value of his education. But I was in no position to try and stop him. I was, after all, the one in the dingy white garb with the matted hair and tracking band.
"You think that improvement is unachievable?" He asked, raising his eyebrow, though I knew he wasn't concerned about my opinion; he was simply amusing himself. I did not answer, instead I glared in his direction for a small moment before fixing my eyes on a cracked floor tile. I knew that if I explained anything it would only be what he wanted. It always happened that way, I would reveal a part of me only to be prescribed a chemical thief to steal it away.
Through the ten years I spent in the that purgatory, I made no improvement and with every passing day I lost a small part of who I was before. My life was a tattered book losing a page each day. My binding crumbling to dust each time it was opened; my ink was fading and being replaced with miserable images of white walls and barred windows.
"I am not one of them, you know," he murmured, "and I have not come here to fix you. That is, as you implied, impossible."
"Then what do you want with me?" I retorted rudely.
"Do you know why you cannot be fixed?" He asked, ignoring my question; I responded by shaking my head in a subtle "no". He smiled, rose from his chair and made his way slowly to me. He was tall and his brooding shoulders were hunched forward, he looked nothing short of evil. He grabbed my chin aggressively, forcing me to look into his wintery eyes. "I, as well as anyone else, cannot fix what isn't already broken."
I tore my face painfully from his grip and leapt to my feet. I pressed myself against the wall opposite to him, my chest was heaving, my mind was racing. "You don't know me, and you can't help me. Even if you could, where did you get the allusion that I would let you?" My courage was fake, I was trembling in fear and he knew it.
"So be it, then." He said with a smirk before beginning to gather his things. I let my body slide to the floor, making myself small. I wanted nothing more than for him to go away.
The days following our encounter were consumed by darkness and rain. The clouds seemed to have arrived at the same time as the doctor. Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, rain turned to snow and the air ran cold. The doctor did not return in person but he haunted me still. Every night in my dreams all I could see were his ice blue eyes staring at me expectantly. Once I asked him what he wanted only to be given a sharp glare and a jolt awake.
It was mid-January, the snow blanketing the courtyard crunched under my boots. The bitter air whipped my black hair around, but I didn't mind. As I made my way around the frozen garden, I thought of what he had said.
"If he truly did not think that I was 'broken' then what is his intent?" I thought.
I had given up all hope of departure long before then. I sat on the side of the frozen fountain in the center of the courtyard, the rough concrete was cold under my thighs. I sat and studied the institution; as I had done many times before. It was made of a weathered grey stone and had four great bell towers, strangled by dead climbing vines and etched with weathered symbols. There were four looming windows on each face of each tower, and in them you could see men in white uniforms standing with a deadly stillness, watching. Large triangular archways stood one after another holding the roof of the cobblestone walkway that outlined the courtyard.
I was called inside by an Orderly, it was time to choke down my evening pills and pick at what they considered food. It was grey lumps served on a steel tray, the same as always. I dare say that I would have favored salted cardboard to their offering. I was painting the top of my tray in the ooze when I felt a hand on my shoulder rendering me frozen.
"Lilliana.." He said quietly, prompting me to turn.
"I thought that I was a lost cause to you, I have been under the impression that you had taken leave from this place. As well you should."
"Come with me please, Lilliana." He answered. I left my tray and followed him through the labyrinth of white hallways. The smell of bleach assaulted my nose and teared my eyes, the doctor noticed but continued his gate forward.
He was no longer the hunched over man from the dim little room, he was tall, and broad; he bore a sense of confidence that permeated everything he contacted.
I followed him into a room unlike any other I had seen. The walls were a soft blue, framed at the top by a royal white crown molding. There was a desk in one corner made of a dark wood, and a shelf full of books made of the same. Intricate symbols ran from top to bottom on both the desk and the shelf, they were exactly like the ones on the tower, just more defined.
"Sit." He instructed. I obeyed, sitting cautiously in a padded leather chair across from a black marble fireplace. The fire burned a furious blue and green, and the wood fuel seemed fresh from the forest. I looked at him in confusion, but I was too afraid to question it. If there was anything I had learned from my time here, it was that when you see something impossibly different from what it should be, you do not ask questions. That was how you find yourself in the electroshock therapy room. The doctor smiled at me, prompting me to look away.
"I have something for you." He said quietly, sliding a white paper bag in my direction. I did not touch it, I only sat and stared at it. "Go ahead, look inside." He promoted, but I still hesitated. He stared at me expectantly. I gave in and grabbed the bag. Inside I found a pair of black pants and a white tee shirt, a black jacket, a pair of white shoes, a hairbrush, and a paper bag that contained a sandwich and a bottle that read "Chocolate Milk". I looked at him in surprise, but he only smiled.
"They will not let me have these, you know. They'll take them from me.
