Dark Visions

Twelve+

© Amber Kalkes 2014

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"Coma White" By Marilyn Manson

Twelve+

In retrospect it was a bad idea to do what I did but I couldn’t stop myself. My memory hadn’t come back and Jeff, the orderly came in and touched me. So I did what any person who is being touched by someone he or she don’t know would do. I kicked him in the nuts. Not so smart on my part but what’s done is done.

That was yesterday morning.

It’s now evening the next day and I’m still restrained to my bed drugged out of my mind. My legs and wrists are held to my bed but the sin under the restraints is rubbed open, bruised and sore. I can barely keep my eyes open from all the sedatives in my system and my room smells like piss. I haven’t been given a bathroom break so what else were my options?

My mouth is as dry as my desert and as I smack my lips together I can feel them stick from cottonmouth. Absently I note that it’s a side effect from the drugs but mostly I focus on trying to stay conscious rather than that. Swaying my head to the side I stare through half lidded eyes at the silhouettes of the branches as they plaster themselves on my blank white walls.

Then, in a daze, I notice something change in the atmosphere.

“Please not now.” I whimper thinking it’s a ghost or a shade.

The second night in this room the ghost of an old woman, who seemed to have been patient at Hazelwood in the Victorian era, if her outfit was anything to judge by had visited me. Her eyes were colorless and she seemed to have been starved to death she was so frail looking as she peered back at me. She kept asking me why I was in her room and no matter what I said she just kept repeating that question.

Nearly drove me insane, pun not intended.

“Fuck.” I hear a voice murmur.

Fighting to keep my eyes open I see a blur approach me from a darkened corner of my room. Whimpering I move away from them as far as my restraints allow me to but it doesn’t do much good. Then something touches me, making faint shocks of pleasant electricity hum over my skin.

Gideon.

“H-how—“

He shushes me before kneeling beside the bed. His cool hands run over my hair making me chase his hand with my face. I sigh deeply and close my eyes to the feel of his touch. My breathing begins to even out and soon I’m asleep again.

+

My eyes crack open before slamming closed again at the feel of burning sun in my eyes. Dread grips my stomach as I realize that last night was probably a dream, a good yet pathetic dream but a dream all the same. I mean who the hell dreams of their ex-whatever he is, coming to rescue them?

Not a normal person.

Opening my eyes again I expect to find blank white walls, an uncomfortable bed and a barred window. Instead I see large lace curtained window, golden colored walls and a queen sized bed with an iron rod headboard. Sitting up I’m even more surprised to realize that I can in fact sit up. Looking down at my wrists I see they are bandaged. Glancing down a ways I see the same treatment has been done on my ankles.

How did I get here?

And where exactly is here?

“Seven days.”