Out of Their Minds

"He killed her. Pure and simple. Before I forget, while you were ... indisposed, I took those items you collected for me. Thank you. Now, why am I here? That is an interesting question. The simple answer is I was found with three dead bodies. A very quick trial later, I was committed. So, how was Calipto planning on eliminating me?"

 

"He wanted us to lure you into a secluded area. I'm guessing you has an ambush ready there for you. Since, we know of his ambush, we can turn the tables and use that oppurtunity to take him out. By the way, do you have any memory of what happened this morning? The last thing I remember was talking to Francine friday night, and then I woke up in the hallway, infront of Skye's room." says Chaos.

 

Gregor shook his head. "I have no idea. Have you asked Dr. Francine?"

 

"I woke up before she did, and I don't think she has any idea as to what happened either. Think about what I said. If we plan this right, we could take Calipto out. See you later, Belleth." says Chaos as he leaves the playroom.

 

Mortimer slunk through the dark corridors, with vengeance on his mind. He snuck up to the hallway leading to the play room and peeked in. He saw Gregor sitting at a table and Chaos walking away. Patiently, he allowed five minutes for Chaos to be long gone before he trudged into the room. With a grin he said, "Hello doc. Long time no see."
He limped up to one of the chairs and sat himself down.
"So, what the f*** are ya up to?"

 

Gregor looked at Mortimer. "My Lord, I think you might be the only one who believes me. So, how did you get hurt?"

 

Mortimer giggled to himself a bit, "That f***er Niel, he and I got in a holy war. He ended up ditching me to fix his knee, stupid sh*t." Mortimer painfully laughed again, his leg aching.
"What the f***'s up with the lack of electricity in here? Is the moment finally come?"

 

"My Lord may I speak freely?"

 

Mortimer lifted his hand up in a motion of uncaring while shaking his head.
"Say whatever the f*** pleases you."

 

Gregor folded his hands as if he was sitting in church. "I have been thinking - in your quest for godhood, why bother with mere mortals? Shouldn't a god achieve his status by slaying another god?"

 

A huge smile formed on Mortimer's face. He looked directly into Gregor's eyes, with a look like an anxious three year-old.
"Heh heh, doc. Another god? Where is he!? I'll show 'im a thing or two! I'll f*** him over reeeaaaal good."

 

Gregor leaned in and whispered, "Those things in the shadows. They are your way to godhood. Destroy them and you will become a god. The more you kill mortals the more mortal you will be .... but if you were to kill the gods .........."

 

Mortimer stared forward, the look of complete happiness not leaving his face. He looked at Gregor and laughed, a deep and menacing laugh.
"Them? Ha, those bastards... I've been wanting to crush their f***ing heads for ages," he made a hand gesture of squeezing his hands together, "But if they're gods, then all the more reason to finish them off for good. Thanks doc. The next time you see me I will be God!"
Mortimer stood up and shuffled away with his walker in front of him, leaving Gregor alone.

 

Gregor stood and bowed. "I don't know Klesps, but if he truly goes bezerk and rips them apart .... he may help our cause."

 

Skye’s eye slowly opened. Her entire body throbbed a low, barely noticeable throb. Her head seemed to spin as her eyes hit the bright light. She looked around, she wasn’t in her room. She seemed to be in the Hospital. She quickly pushed with her arms, trying to sit up when she noticed her left arm wasn’t doing any of the work. She looked over, horror struck her heart. She let out a yelp as she saw the stump that had once been her arm. Her heart raced as she pulled off the cover. Her eyes met her right leg. It was a stump too.

She let out a high-pitched scream as she stumbled off the bed onto the floor. She yelled out in pain as the hard floor hit her. Her arm stub throbbed painfully as she heard her door open. The nurses ran in with needles in their hands.

“What that f**k is going on?” she screamed, “What the hell is this?”

They said nothing as they helped her back to bed. Her eye gave a violent twitch.

“I’ll f**king kill you!” she screamed. She hit at the nurses with her arm as they came at her with the needles. She could feel the warm tears falling down her face as she finally gave out. The nurses looked at her, putting the needles away with a sad look on their face. She lay in bed looking at the ceiling, thinking. What had happened to her, and were her friends okay?

 

I was not fulfilled by what the police told me. I was not at all happy.
"Are you telling me that Saturday has started, and it's evening now?"
The nodded and I groaned a little, kicking a trashcan.
"But how come everyone has forgotten what happened since Friday night?"
The police had no answer. But I was sure something had happened, something because of which someone had pulled the plug of memory. Something was wrong. I could feel it.

And so, I left the hospital. There had been three murders done in the hospital, and Mortimer was charged with all of them. He was going to have to face the court after all, but I had my doubts. No one in my hospital had to ever face court, which was rather amusing. Maybe Mortimer would get away this time too.

My steps were traced to the music store. I wasn't a fan of music, but I was bored, and didn't feel like going home. I grabbed a headphone and acted as though I was listening to the CDs. In fact, I was meditating and trying to clear the clutter inside of my mind. Everything was so foggy. No matter how hard I tried, my memory didn't exceed Friday night.

"Maybe Brenda did this?"

I said out loud, thinking about it. It could be possible, actually anything in this world seemed possible for some reason. Suddenly, someone pushed me and made me fall down. I gritted my teeth, shouting:

"Hey! Watch it you dog!"

I then straightened, feeling a paper scarping against my stomach. I found a small chit, and read it to myself.

STOP FOLLOWING THE DARK - or else you will suffer...

I looked around frantically to find the man, when a shop attendant nudged me, saying:
"You have a phone call."

I quickly grabbed the cordless phone, hearing a stifled, desperate plea.
"FRANCINE! Get out of this place! SAVE YOURSELF!"
Jerry's voice was cut short as the phone line went dead. I dropped the receiver, at which the attendant was angry but didn't show it. The horror was overwhelming, and I was soon sprouting out of the shop, on the streets. Was Jerry alright? I didn't let him get hurt, did I?

I spent the next hour on the footpath, thinking over what should I do. I wanted to escape this city, but something told me it would never help me. Instead, I decided to fight this thing. I may lose my life, but it was worth the time. This was getting too hot to cool down. I had to put my hand in it to deal with it.

"What is your mystery, John Francs?"
I asked myself relatively out loud, and then heard a muffle.
"John Francs, you say?"
I spun around and saw a very old woman trembling with a cane supporting her. I nodded, somewhat surprised.
"He was a very good person. A diamond in the rough, but a very good person. He was the apple of New York. He was the classic, the jazz. He was life."
I was puzzled, and asked her:
"Well, where is he now?"
I thought that she might be talking of the wrong 'Franc'. The woman chuckled, her tone mocking and rude.
"Why, he's been dead for two years."

I wasn't as stoned as I had expected myself to be, probably because I knew John's real name was Calipto. Even so, it was horrifying that I was getting some actual evidence over the matter.
"How do you know he's dead?"
I asked the woman, who grinned tiredly and then stepped forward, her right hand letting go of the cane.
"You see my palm, child? With this palm, I unloaded his body into the grave. His beautiful, smiling face was mixed with mist and sand. It was a very cold day, and no one was home. It was only my daughter, his wife and me."
I then bit my tongue, a little confused.
"You're his mother?"
"Yes, my child."
"But where is his wife, then?"
The woman frowned, perhaps feeling her perspective was not being grasped.
"She left us four days after John's death. Still in town, and I meet her once in a while too. Still a widow, that lovely woman. She could never bear the loss."
I nodded, feeling pity for the real John. With that, I turned to leave, but the woman stopped me by finishing:
"Works in the psychiatric ward, if you want to know."
I turned around, and asked curiously:
"What's her name?"
"Brenda Stives."

******​

"It actually worked really awesome, George."
Brenda commented as she looked through the files, reading newspapers with clippings saying:
"Memories vanished - what happened Saturday?"
George grinned, and then picked up his hairbrush.
"Scientifically, it was nothing. Anepholine, a memory loss drug works on the principle that the person will forget all that happened after his last two hour nap. For most, and in fact, for everyone, it was Friday night. And to activate the drug is a piece of cake. You need a great deal of spray anesthetic to be available for use, and tada! Another two hour nap, and the memory's gone. Goner!"

Brenda chuckled, but had her mind occupied.
"Gregor will still remember."
"Oh, don't worry senorita. Not like he can compel everyone to remember. He's not a magician - he's just an alien."
She nodded, and then picked up her purse.
"I should be headed home. Sunday will be a big day for many."
George nodded and watched as Brenda strutted out of the building.

******​

"She's fine."
The doctor contemplated as Everic coughed, and then gave John a reassuring glance.
"Her fever actually improved on Earth, you know. Something to do with the biological conditions."
John felt a tint of guilt for having treated Skye wrongly, but only a tint.
"Thank you. You will be spared."
He knighted the doctor who left the room. John sat by his daughter who smiled weakly.

"I missed you, Daddy."
"Me too."
John kissed his daughter's forehead.
"I made some very nice friends though. There was Skye, Francine and Glenny. We'll go visit them sometime, right Daddy?"
John grinned, and then replied:
"Oh, that time will be soon, my love."

 

Killed two lovers
For her own love's bite, oh my
She is even weirder​

 

Skye’s eyes opened, and instantly she closed them back up. Her body ached feircely and she wanted nothing more then to go back to sleep. She frowned to herself. Last night hadn’t been some twisted nightmare. She really did lose those limbs, and she really was in trouble. She didn’t know who had done it, but she had her suspect. Brenda. Just Friday night she had put that needle in her neck. This was an obvious revenge, she didn’t know who else would do it. She hadn’t done anything to anyone, besides Francine. She knew Francine was her friend though, or was she?

She slowly opened her eyes, pushing the button on the bed to lift herself up. She looked at her surroundings as her eye gave a twitch. She liked this room. It was perfectly painted. She didn’t see an entire spot out of place. Her hands shook as she looked down at her sheets. The bumps seemed to scream at her, but she pushed the blankets off her.

“Nurse!” she screamed. She needed to get out of there, she needed some answers. She watched as a nurse calmly entered her room, stopping by her bed.

“Yes? Are you all right Miss Skye?”

Skye nodded, “I want a wheelchair, and an orderly to push me around.” She gave a small laugh. She’d never hear those words coming from her mouth again.

The nurse nodded and left with a look of worry on her face.

“I’ll be fine.” She called out to her. Though, she didn’t even know that herself. She rolled over, looking at the laundry basket at her side. She quickly tumbled it over, grabbing her bloodied gown. It was the one she had been in Saturday, it had to of been. She quickly looked at the arms and the legs of the gown. All cut in some area. Obviously the right one. She looked around it, until she reached the pouch connected to it. She quickly pulled out the objects inside. She found two very cheap ink pens and a tablet of paper. Her eyes looked at the drawing of a little girl on it. Then her eyes met the name.

“Everic Calipto Souder.” She read. She searched hard in her mind to figure out who that could be. It was obviously the name of a child. Or so she would figure. For all she knew it wasn’t a name, and for all she knew the drawing was of herself. Though she highly doubted that. She placed the tablet and pens into her gown pouch, tossing the dirty one back into the laundry pile.

The nurse opened the door, coming in with a wheelchair. Behind her followed Jason. Their eyes met, and for once there wasn’t anger in his eyes, but pity.

She reached out for him as he helped her into the chair. She got herself comfortable and looked up at him.

“Thanks.” She muttered. Her eye gave a violent twitch, sending her aching stub forward. She screamed out in pain.

“I’ll bash your head in!” she bellowed. She looked down angrily at the stub that remained of her leg as she left the room.

“Take me to Miss Brenda.” She said to him. He gave a nod and headed towards her office.

 

"Huh?"

Glenny sat up, out of nowhere. The ceiling was turning, like a ferriswheel full of colors at the circus. A few white coats passed by, like floating ghosts, and murmured whispers were chattering softly.

He scratched at his sore head. Everything to him felt very dull, and he was completely estranged. He called to someone, asking what was going on. When he didn't get a reply, he sat silently waiting, until his eyesight gained back its focus. He realized that he was resting on a heap of stuffed animals in the playroom. What was he doing there?

Glenny thought back to the other day, and could remember nothing. He squinted, struggling to remember, hopefully it was going to give him an answer as to why he was clumped up in the playroom on his own, but couldn't recall. He could only remember things vital like a fire, among other things.

 

Brenda was reading throguh the postmortem reports of a 17-year-old patient who had been attacked after the knock out. It seemed he had been attacked by a savage human - none other than Mortimer.

The door trembled against a silent knock. Brenda called out calmly:
"Come in."
A wheelchair squeaked as it came inside, and Brenda raised her beautiful blue eyes.Skye was sitting in front of her, angry and disgusted. Brenda looked at her pitifully and put down her folder.
"Yes dear?"

 

Skye looked Brenda over. She couldn’t believe that the woman had the strength to cut of a limb. You’d have to have great strength, and she didn’t quite see that in the woman.

“You know, I don’t remember when this happened.” She said, pointing to her leg and wiggling her fiercely throbbing stub of an arm, “But I do remember you. The night before. You weren’t very happy with me, were you?”

She didn’t understand what she had done to deserve this. Nothing in her life. Nothing she had done was worth the slicing of her limbs. Nothing. She looked at the woman with angry eyes.

“You did this to me, didn’t you Brenda?”

 

Brenda felt choked by Skye's situation, but she couldn't explain what had happened. Otherwise, the entire purpose of the drug would be dead. She had to lie, for her own sake.

"Well..."
She shot a sharp gaze at Jason who immediately left them alone.
"Kind of, yes. But since you don't remember it, we can just pass the details."

 

Skye’s eyes immediately turned dark with anger. A scream of anger escaped her lips, though the words were unknown even to her.

“Kind of?!” she bellowed, “Pass the f**king detials?!” She wheeled herself until she was the closest she could get to her desk.

“You f**king cut off my limbs and you’re not going to spare me the f**king details?” Her face was red with anger, and her body throbbed angrily. She quickly let loose, letting her back hit the chair. She needed to rest as her body shook, and the pain took over her emotions.

The tears fell down her eyes, “I didn’t deserve this Brenda. You know that. I’ve never f**king hurt anyone before. Nothing that couldn’t be taken care of with just a pack of ice!” She blinked her eyes, trying to dispense the tears that filled them.

“You reap what you sow.” She said, “You’ll get your own. Whether it comes from something else you did, or from me.” She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand.

“Jason! I want to leave!” she cried. The orderly hurried in, grabbing her chair, not making eye contact with Brenda. She was led out the door, as he closed it behind them.

“Take me to the playroom, and get my blocks on the way there. I need to relax.” He nodded, patting her on the head as he did as she said.

 

As Olena passed Brenda's office door, she could hear the word "details". She decided not to eavesdrop, though, because she was already swamped with thoughts. Like why did her back hurt? And why was her arm cut? And why couldn't she remember anything since Friday night? It was obviously Sunday morning - but since this happened to her quite frequently, (just never this long at a time) she waved it off. She decided to go to the playroom for a while, just to kill time, or to find some information.

 

Skye was ushered into the playroom. She looked at Glenny, but quickly turned away. She wasn’t sure she wanted to face anyone today. She probably looked awful, specially from this crying. Jason helped her onto the cushioned chair, as he pushed it over towards one of the tables. He looked at her with sad eyes.

“Anything else I can do?” he asked as he placed the blocks on the table.

Skye shook her head, and Jason sat on the couch, taking a book from his pocket.

She looked over as Vira walked in. She gave her a gentle wave as she struggled to dump the blocks onto the table. Her body ached badly, but she wanted nothing more then to play and feel normal again. Normal. If she had ever been that way.

She looked back over at Vira, and Glenny.

"Do you guys remember Saturday morning?" she asked.