They get the contraptions on me within seconds. Before I get a chance to look for my henchmen.
“Where are they?!” I scream, ignoring the blinding pain and continue to thrash as much as the binds will allow.
“She’s going into shock,” I hear another voice say. There’s a small prick of a needle, there and gone before I can register what it was.
I continue to scream for my henchmen, but I can’t move. I need to move!
“Everything is going to be okay, just calm down,” the woman says. Dizziness consumes me, and then blackness bleeds into my sight. I try to blink away the impending darkness, but I can’t fight it.
The last thing I hear is Mortis calling my name before I’m completely pulled under.
I slam my tray down on the table, scaring a few people around me and causing the slop on the tray to splatter on the white tables.
Fuck them. Fuck this food. Fuck this entire place.
“Sibel!” a guard yells from across the room. I don’t even look at him. He has it out for me, I know he does. Ever since I’ve arrived in this god forsaken place, he’
s always watching me. The demon finds any reason to get me in trouble and send me back to my room.
I know the way he looks at me. He’s scared of me.
He fucking should be.
“What!” I yell back. I sit down with a huff, already pissed off. The nurse came into my room at six o’clock in the morning to feed me more meds. I took them at first, when I first arrived here. But I stopped taking them a week ago.
I don’t want to be drugged up anymore. The more comatose I feel, the more I start to forget my henchmen. They don’t visit me in here. I haven’t heard what happened to them after the car accident. How badly they were hurt, or if any of them even survived. The possibility of one of them being dead nearly does make me crazy.
No one will tell me. Maybe they were convicted of the murders, or maybe they also got sent to the loony bin.
Whatever the case, I miss them fiercely, and I don’t ever want to forget them. They were—are—everything to me. If I lose any of them, I’ll lose all my sanity and become the very thing everyone has always accused me of.
If they thought I was crazy before…
I would fucking belong in here then. In a lunchroom with real crazy people and they’re all staring at me like I’m the one that’s fucking cracked.
“Clean your act up, or you’re going back to your room,” he threatens, a stern look on his ugly fucking face. There’s no way this man gets pussy. He’s far too ugly, with his greasy cornflower blonde hair, pinched brown eyes and acne scars all over his cheeks. He’s also too uptight, probably having been bullied his whole life so now he feels the need to take it out on anyone he deems inferior. Maybe I’ll suck his dick later to loosen him up so he leaves me the hell alone.
I ignore him and angrily scoop up some applesauce onto my spoon and shove it in my mouth.
This day is only going to get worse. I have another appointment with Dr. Rosie today. She’s a conniving bitch that’s trying to convince me of false things. Over the past three months, she’s been trying to convince me I’m crazy. Talk of severe psychosis and paranoid schizophrenia have fallen from her and the nurses mouths a few times. Dr. Rosie officially diagnosed me as a paranoid schizophrenic with psychopathic tendencies after a week of being here.
I laughed when she told me that.
I’m not fucking crazy, I’m enlightened! I’ve been doing a goddamn service to this world by getting rid of the evil. Who else was going to do it? That’s a question Dr. Rosie could never give me a straight answer to. She always spouts the same thing. That’s not for you to decide. You’re not the judge and executioner.
Yeah, whatever, bitch.
I am. I’ve been doing what everyone else is too weak to do. Sniffing and snuffing out the evil. And I’m being punished for it.
I’m busy glaring into my applesauce when I feel someone sit down next to me. I ignore whoever it is, too focused on my daydream of maiming every single employee in this place and escaping.
Every time I fantasize, I always see myself covered in blood and holding onto my pretty knife, running out of the building and straight into my henchmen’s arms. They’re all there waiting for me, big smiles on their made-up faces. They scoop me in their arms and tell me how proud they are of me.
And then they whisk me away and show me how much they missed me with their tongues and cocks.
The unwanted person leans too close to me. I get a whiff of poison berries, the kind Daddy had me pluck from the bushes and bake into pies when he deemed a follower unworthy.
I snap my head up, glaring at the intruder. Glenda. She’s looking into my applesauce, a contemplative look on her face.