I am a Monster

Chapter 2

Beacon Hills Psychiatric Hospital, Melissa McCall's workplace, was built around the end of the 1930s in almost open country. It was a three floor building, composed of dark red bricks and surrounded by a beech forest and crops. The back garden, which was closed during winter, was tended by an old and permanently grumpy keeper. It definitely mirrored life in the hospital: the fountain in the middle didn't work, one of the white benches was broken and the flower beds were dry most of the time. A gazebo would be put up in summer, mostly for those few patients who cared about taking a breath of fresh air outside of their rooms. Curfew was at 6 p.m.

Melissa entered the hospital and greeted her coworkers. She hung both her bag and coat on the rack beside the reception desk. While turning around towards the archive room where she was about to put the folders, her brown eyes locked with blue ones. Right in the middle of the corridor stood a boy, a bit younger than Scott, who was holding a couple of neatly folded paper sheets in his hands. Two bags were on the floor, near his feet. The corners of his mouth were slightly tilted down, just like his shoulders and overall posture. Only when she noticed his rubbing-hands-on-jeans habit it became clear that he was the new patient.

"Hi there, you must be Isaac."

Melissa smiled at him and laid a hand on his shoulder. The boy nodded yet recoiled from her touch, lowering his head.

"I guess this is the list of meds you're on, right?" She took the paper sheets from his hands and started reading with interest. Antidepressants, painkillers, usual stuff. The only weird thing was the dosage, which was almost enough to knock out an elephant. How could that boy take so many heavy pills and still be able to stand?

"Follow me, I'll show you your room. Your brother Camden told me you like nature so I assigned you one with a view on the garden." Isaac lifted his bags and followed the nurse in complete silence, avoiding eye contact with the other patients. Some were laughing, some were screaming, some even tried to grab his sleeve. While walking down the corridor he crossed the sign indicating the ward he was in. It read "Psychosis".

His room looked gloomy and plain. Bed, nighstand, wardrobe and a bathroom. The floor was pearly white, as was the fabric wallpaper applied on the walls.

"I'm not going to bash my head against the wall, if that's what you're worried about..." he murmured, running his fingers on the door frame.

"It's for precaution, Isaac. We can't risk." Melissa handed him a clean pajamas and two towels with a motherly smile on her lips, then walked out of the room closing the door behind her. He was alone. Again.

He tossed the bags in a corner and kicked away his worn out shoes. It was all so unfair, he knew boys much more damaged than him and not a single one of them was stuck in a lousy hospital for crazy people. None of them had to gulp down insane quantities of pills to prevent babbling and hallucinations. Isaac wasn't mad, who did he have to convince to escape from there? He sat on the bed and embraced his legs, chin resting on his bony knees. He wanted to go home. To scream until his vocal cords bled. To overturn the bed and throw it out the window. He felt a hand brushing his curly hair, even though he was aware of being alone in the room. He looked around and out of nowhere appeared Camden, just like an illusion, smiling. Idiotically. Isaac felt tears stinging in his eyes and a knot forming down his throat.

"You abandoned me -"

Isaac's voice was hoarse and choked, as his fingernails pierced through the palm of his hand.

"You abandoned me just like mom and dad did." He cackled, but his brother remained emotionless. His brother, the only family he had left, had the guts to dump him in that hideous place. As he was about to lift an arm and slap him, he vanished. There was nothing left of him. Half an hour later, Isaac was on the floor. Pretty much like a chain reaction, the effects of the vision had started showing. He was rolling around, scratching furiously all over his body. His face, contorted with pain and anger, was hidden in his arms. The more he told himself to calm down and breathe, the more he felt panic spreading in his veins.

"I'm not crazy." Isaac's blue eyes were circled in red as bitter tears streamed down his pale cheeks. "I'm not crazy." he repeated to the nurse who came by to check on him while on her round. Upon entering the room, the woman pressed a hand against her mouth in horror.

"I'm not crazy!" he shouted. Just as he moved to stand up, Melissa McCall sticked a syringe in his neck. Then everything became black.