ASYLUM [5SOS]

NAME TAG

NAME TAG

Luke

Handcuffs.

Shiny? Yes.

Comfortable? No.

The psychiatrist walked into the room. He looked extremely frazzled, his dark, curly hair sticking out every which way as if he'd been electrocuted. Which, Luke thought, probably wasn't an unreasonable assumption.

After all, he was in the asylum now.

"So, Luke, how are you?" the psychiatrist asked, taking a seat across from Luke.

"These handcuffs are uncomfortable," Luke said. "Dr. Brooke," he added, peeking at his name tag.

Dr. Brooke shifted in his chair, and the light hit the name tag, reflecting off its metallic surface.

Instinctively, Luke's fingers twitched.

Dr. Brooke, oblivious to the change, said, "It's a precautionary measure. We want to help get you out of here. You're here in Ward 19C. The higher your ward number, the less severe your case. You? You could leave here one day. No more handcuffs. People in the top ten wards might never make it out of here," he said sadly.

"So you can't take them off?" Luke asked, still staring at his name tag.

"Not for the first meeting. If things go well, you'll have them off in no time," Dr. Brooke assured him, smiling gently.

Luke frowned at him, the news distracting him from the glinting metal. "Okay, fine."

Dr. Brooke nodded and scribbled something on his clipboard, seeming satisfied. "Luke, can you explain why you think you're in here?"

Luke wrinkled his nose. "It's not my fault. I can't help it." He took a deep breath. "I can't stop myself from taking things, and once they're in my hand, I can't let go. I can't stop myself from holding on to something I never should have tried to grab in the first place."

Dr. Brooke nodded, jotting down notes on his clipboard. "Any items in particular?"

"Shiny things," Luke answered automatically, fixated on the name tag. He frowned up at the psychiatrist. "Don't you know all of this already?"

"Yes, but I prefer to let my patients explain themselves," Dr. Brooke explained. "Anything you'd like to add?"

"I'm trying to change. I don't even want the things I'm stealing. It's just, I see it, I see it shining, and I have to-" Luke cut off, struggling against the handcuffs, his eyes riveted to the shining name tag. "I need that name tag," he choked out.

Dr. Brooke frowned. "What?" He followed Luke's gaze. "Oh. My apologies." He unpinned it and slipped it into his pocket.

Luke didn't stop struggling, his expression pained. "What the hell is wrong with me? Why can't I fight myself? I. don't. want. the. fucking. name. tag," he growled, his hands straining against the restraints despite his words.

Dr. Brooke's eyebrows knit together in concern. "I think that's enough for today. Luke, there's nothing wrong with you-"

Luke looked up into the doctor's eyes, his expression pained and desperate. "Don't lie to me."

"You're just different, there's nothing wrong-"

Luke cut him off, slumping back into his chair.

"You're wrong. Different is wrong."

[A/N: Dr. Brooke. Good or bad?]