grace under pressure • jerome valeska

CHAP.23: Time

  ONE YEAR LATER

  I haven't talked since the event. Not once. Not even a whisper. I barley moved unless I had too. I rarely ate. I never once complained to the guards when they shoved me around. I never once told the inmates to go away whenever they came too close for my comfort. I didn't even scream during electrotherapy so they stopped doing that about a month ago. I wasn't the same. 

  I didn't feel anymore. The sadness and pain and anger left me after the first few months here. I just felt nothing. I felt so empty. I felt like I was nothing. If I died...it would be a blessing. I would be set free. But no. I haven't died yet sadly. Although that hadn't stopped me from trying. 

  I sliced open my throat about three weeks ago but the nurse had come in and saved me before I could bleed to death. I now had a long scar running from one end of my neck to the other, adding to the ones on my back. I didn't care. I didn't care about anything anymore. I couldn't remember what caring felt like. All of it seemed like a distant memory. And it was. 

  Every time I thought about my passed life, I felt even more dull. I felt grey. I remember hearing that word a lot. Grey. I just don't remember where. My memories seemed to be slipping away from me lately. Like my mind was trying to save me from myself so I wouldn't collapse completely. 

  I had gotten a couple of visits from Jim Gordon, asking me what I had meant when I told him on that night. I didn't answer him. I didn't remember. He had tried time and time again for me to speak but I wouldn't. I had no need to. 

  My doctors called it severe trauma and that is why I wasn't talking. They said that something was blocking my ability to function normally. That my mind was slowly lobotomizing itself. They didn't know how long I had before my mind completely shut off. I wished it would work faster. Then my misery would disappear. I would disappear. 

  I was now sitting in the infirmary, getting a check up. It worried them I hadn't gotten a cold or a fever in my entire time being here. It seemed like my system all together shut off. A doctor was in front of my face, pointing a flash light at my eye. I didn't even blink. He sighed then placed the flashlight on a little table next to him.

  "It seems you are fine." He says. "Other than some weight loss, you seem to be functioning well." He speaks to me then stares at me for a moment. He stops in front of me. 

  "Can you hear me?" He asks. I continue to sit there, not moving. "The other doctors are thinking about sending you to another ward for inmates who have been lobotomized. You don't want that right? I wish you'd answer me. I have been treating you ever since you came back here. I heard you were quite a talker before. It seems you just completely shut down now."

  He waves a hand in front of me before sighing once more. He shakes his head then nods to a guard. The guard walks up to me and took me by the arm, pulling me up and leading me out the door. I stared in front of me as I walked. Looking but not seeing. Breathing but not living. As I passed by the cafeteria many of the inmates started to bang against the cage at me. They yelled foul things and one even spit on me. I didn't flinch once. 

  I was led into my room and placed onto my bed. I heard the guard tut at me. 

  "I was here when you escaped. You were a trouble maker and a half. You and that other red haired fella. You killed that doctor here right?" He asked. I just sat there, looking ahead of me. He snapped his fingers in front of my face. He then shakes his head. 

  "It's a shame. My brother is part of that whole cult thing that worships you and that red haired guy. What was his name? Oh yeah, Jerome, right?" At hearing that name I feel my finger twitch. 

  Jerome...Jerome. I had heard that before. I had. I saw a flash of blood. I saw a large smile and heard the most maniacal laughter I had ever witness. I blinked before it all faded away. The guard then bit his tongue. 

  "Whoops. I wasn't supposed to say that guy's name around you. Doctor's orders. They think it will snap some sort of string in you. Eh, well, good thing you can't hear a word I'm saying, right?" He says then he turns around, closing the door and locking it before I hear his footsteps walking away.

  Jerome...what a strange name. 

                                    |TIME SKIP|

  I was lying down on my bed, my hands crossed over my chest and my eyes wide open. The darkness consumed my entire room where I couldn't see a thing in front of me. I simply blinked when I had to. I didn't sleep. I never slept unless the doctors shot me up with some sort of drug to force me into it. 

  I breathed in and out, smelling the putrid stink of this place hit my nose. It made my eyes water. I blinked once more. I used to wonder what it was like to not feel. Not to feel anything. Not happiness. Not fear. Not sadness. It was quite unique. I was categorized a sociopath. According to the doctors anyhow.

  My numbness in a way was a gift. I no longer had to worry. But for some reason, ever since that guard had said that name, Jerome, I had been getting these visions of blood, smiles, knives, and lips. I kept thinking of this and my head started to hurt. So...my mind blocked it out. But not enough to where it wasn't in the back of my head.

  It was the first time, in a long time, I started to think.

                                      |TIME SKIP|

  The next day I was led into the cafeteria where I was forced to sit down with the rest of the inmates. Some that passed me try to make me move but were soon bored and others knew not to bother with me. I stared at my food, not making a move to eat it. 

  I was then led from my seat after everyone left to attend my daily therapy session. My therapist was a woman this time and was quite nicer even though she got annoyed with me quickly. She would ask me questions then answer them herself knowing I wouldn't answer. All I could think of while sitting there was the name Jerome. It seemed to plague my mind constantly now. 

  After my session I was led to my room to be seated there all day until lunch. Then be led back into my room. Then be fed pills from a cup. Then be brought to dinner. Then seated here once more. 

  That is how it was. It was like this from now on. I knew that this was my destiny. I was to go through this cycle until the day I die. That is just how it was. Time was my end.