Out of Their Minds

She ventured into the halls, and stopped by Skye's room, placing her butter knife in the large pocket of her sweater once she found it, and then headed to the front. She sat in a chair in the lobby of the asylum, and there she waited.

 

Skye gave the doctor a forced smile. She grabbed one of Jason’s hands, squeezing it tightly.

“Thanks, wait for me outside?”

He nodded and headed out the door. She looked back at Brenda.

“I’m not here for what you think I’m here about.” She said. She pushed herself next to Brenda. She leaned back in her chair, and stretched her leg out.

“Though I'm still curious. I’d like to know why you made me think you had hurt me? What was in it for you? Do you like him or something?”

 

Brenda frowned.
"Belleth has loose lips."
She thought to herself, and then stretched out her hand, rubbing Skye's hand.
"I just didn't want you to think about Cal - I mean John. He's a weird man, you know."
Brenda then looked deeply into Skye's eyes. Her limbs reminded her of Eden lying without a head in their front yard. She felt a tear trickle down but she immediately grabbed control. The pity and love in her eyes immediately vanished as she looked away.

 

Skye frowned and pulled herself further from Brenda as she looked the woman over.

“I deserved to know the truth.” She said, trying to keep the venom from her voice. She wasn’t here to cause a fight, she was here because she needed the talk.

“I was told what I needed to hear. Nothing more. You don’t need to protect me. Just because I’m little on the outside… I’m beyond my years in wisdom on the inside.”

Her eye gave a violent twitch, sending her stub forward. It painfully hit the arm of her chair.

“I’ll f**king kill you!” she bellowed. She rubbed her throbbing arm and looked away. She seemed to be getting worse.

"I need you as a doctor right now." she said.

 

Brenda nodded, and closed her email window.
"Alright."
She pulled out a notepad and then cleared her throat, feeling quite awkward.
"So...how have you been doing?"
As stupid as it sounded, she didn't know what to ask.

 

Skye almost let out a laugh at the question. How did she think she was doing? She was in constant pain, her mind was always cloudy, and to make things worse, her tics were becoming more violent.

“I’m doing great doc.” She said with a sarcastic tone. She looked at the ceiling, noticing the spots on the wall. For some odd reason, it didn’t bother her as much. She had been noticing that lately, everything was bothering her less, as if life itself was being sucked from her.

“I’ve noticed, my Tourettes is getting worse, but my OCD… it’s like nothing matters anymore? Am I depressed? I can't seem to care about much, my mind. It's either cloudy or full of thought. There is no in between Then, I’m sleeping! But then again, I have to, or my body throbs at all times of the hour.”

 

Brenda nodded, noting down her observations.
"You see, dear, you've been through a lot lately. You are trying to get past this, but it's quite hard for you. However, don't feel put off. It's alright if you feel sleepy; being an insomniac, it should help counteract your problems. Lesser effect of OCD is also alright, though your indication towards depression may be alarming. As far as tourette's is concerned, I'll have Jason give you the medications more often."
She then stopped, and looking at the door instinctively.
"Also, how're your friendships going?"
All those questions and answers were mocking Brenda, but she didn't even squeak.

 

She frowned at the idea of more medications but for once, she wouldn’t fight it. Not with her at least, she could get Jason to stop, she hoped. She looked down at her stump as she thought of her friends. She hadn’t seen Ambriel in quite a while, and Gregor, she had left for the time being. She was afraid she had upset him. Klesps, she felt the same about. She smiled as she thought of Olena and Glenny. They were her friends too. But she thought of Everic. The little girl she had befriended, yet she couldn’t even remember a face.

“There was one.” She said, “Everic. I befriended her, and apparently I was a good friend. Yet, I still got punished. I wonder if you could explain that doctor?”

 

Brenda cursed Belleth under her breath and then smiled.
"Everic, huh? Never heard the name, dearest. You weren't dreaming, were you?"
Her voice was passive and disinterested mostly.

 

Skye let out a gentle laugh. She looked up at Brenda with vexing eyes. She wasn’t going to deny it like this.

She pulled the pad from her pouch, pointing a finger to the blood that covered one of its corners.

“My blood. The little girls drawing.” She snapped, “It’s cute how you try and deny it. Now do me a favor and answer why I was hurt.”

 

Brenda rolled her eyes and remarked cynically:
"I thought I was a doctor, not a convict."
She then put her notebook at a side and asked calmly:
"When Gregor has told you everything, why are you asking me?"
She somehow wanted to avoid the conversation. John's name had started to tickle her but recently.

 

She looked at her in annoyance.

“He told me. That he did, but I want to know why you keep denying? You’re a terrible doctor, you know that?” she leaned back in her seat, her eyes getting droopy again. She looked at the gun on the doctor’s hip. She wanted nothing more then to see one of those bullets through her head. She took her gaze away, knowing she’d never have the guts to try.

“I still think there’s something wrong with you. I think you’re lying to us. You’re one of them, aren’t you doctor?”

 

Brenda crossed her arms, feeling a tint of anger.
"Terrible doctor. I got a degree for this!"
She thought to herself and then plunged back into reality. She then sighed, and spoke softly:
"I'm not your enemy, my dear. I'm a simple doctor who wants her patients to stay out of harm's way, and cannot simply tolerate them prying in her business. Just like Francine, except her life is the hospital alone. I have my life centered around other things, that's all."
She then threw a glance towards the computer screen. She had received a new message.

 

Skye sighed. She was tired of this game and she simply wasn’t going to play it anymore. She’d take the doctor’s word, for the time being. Her eye gave a violent twitch, sending her stump flying forward. It hit with a loud bang, she yelled out in pain. The sweat fell down her forehead as she gently rubbed her throbbing stump.

“Fine. I’m sorry.” She said through the tears. She quickly wiped them away, trying to push the pain in the back of her mind.

“What will happen to me?” she asked, “I was going to get out of here when I was of age… but now. I’m disabled. Will I be able to get those fake limbs? Like those athletes have? Where does my future lie?”

 

Brenda smiled, a comfortable one rather than forced.
"Your future lies where you construct it."
She then thought hard, after which she quoted eloquently:
" ‘Your future is just a step beyond the railing of time. You step out in the air beyond the balcony of dimensions, and find yourself free, flying like an anew dove. Your future is flight, freedom and whatever you desire. You hold the brush to the painting. You hold the wand to the witchcraft.’ "
She then paused, before saying:
"She Never Saw by some authoress. Dunno."
Brenda scrubbed her chin for moment, adding:
"Sorry, couldn't resist. I hope I was of help."
She laughed inside of her as she said that.

 

Gregor walked aimlessly down the halls. He opened his mind looking for any hint of of John or those other creatures that had been haunting Mortimer. Along the way he grabbed three books of matches, a second lighter, and two cans of spray cleaner. They disappeared beneath his shirt. After a few seconds, his stomach grumbled and the items were gone.

What about Brenda? asked Klesps into Gregor's mind.

Gregor turned his thoughts inward. I'm not the butcher - that's John's job. If we are lucky we might be able to stop John before he decides she needs to be eliminated. Right now all we can do is wait and prepare to fight.

 

Skye looked at her with annoyance, sticking out her tongue with a grin.

“Thanks, that helped a lot doc.” She looked back at her throbbing arm. She knew the painkillers wouldn’t be cutting it if she was going to keep moving around.

“Can I have a bottle of Ibuprofen?” she asked, “I’m tired of being in constant pain.” She bit her lip.

 

Brenda shrugged and handed her the bottle.
"No more than two spoons a day, though."
She then waited for her patient to leave.

 

Skye smiled, not sure she had seen it in liquid form before. She rolled herself to the door, and called out for Jason. He opened the door, giving Brenda a nod.

“Let’s go to the playroom, but make sure you grab my blocks.” She slipped the pad and the medicine into her pouch as he took Olena’s room. He quickly grabbed the blocks, putting them on her lap as he headed back towards the playroom.

 

Brenda was yawning as she read through the last of her documents for the day. It was getting tiring and absorbing the last bit of her strength. Out of the blue, the phone rang.
"Shut up."
She complained and picked up the receiver.
"Hello? Can't you read the clock? It's freaking ten o'clock here."
"Ma'am, if I didn't call now, you'll hate me till death."
"Huh?"
Brenda yawned and pushed her hair back.
"The press has crowded the entire reception. We're trying to put them off, but they've flooded our security! We're outnumbered, ma'am! They want to interview the patients!"
Brenda's eyes were burning in shock. She slammed the phone down and rushed out of the room and towards the reception.

"Hello, this is Anna Bedingfield from Fox News Live. We are standing in the psychiatric ward of Levittown General Hospital, Levittown New York. It seems that rumors about alien abduction in this town were not rumors at all. We have received testimonies from many visitors about the weird happenings in this ward, and today truth can no longer be hidden. We're fighting a deluge of reporters and cameramen as we try to get a hold of the staff. Oh…and there’s Dr. Brenda Stives, one of the popular doctors in this ward. Dr. Brenda, how would you explain the uncommon happenings in your ward? Is it really alien abduction? If not, how can you justify all that has happened?”

Brenda couldn't breathe in midst of the several reporters with their mikes towards her.
"I deny any knowledge of any such rumors. Please, leave this ward - the patients will be lured into troublesome situations."
She tried to push them a little, with nurses and orderlies helping her. Suddenly, another reporter erupted:
"We would like to interview the patients, please! Especially Mr. Handel - we've heard he's got a lot of information on this topic, and has survived seven bullets and murdered several people in this place!"
The mention of this was followed by several accusations.
"Why has not his murder been followed by the court?"
"What does the military have to do with this place?"
"Why has not Skye's abusers been dealt with?"
"Where is the justice when you need it, Dr. Stives?"

Brenda groaned and pushed them away, screaming angrily:
"I deny knowledge of any such happenings! PLEASE LEAVE!"
Some reporters were put off, while others grabbed the chance and surrounded Gregor who was wandering aimlessly.
"Sir, do you deny knowledge of the fact that you are accused with superhuman capabilities and celestial contacts?"
Before Brenda could save the situations, other reporters invaded the rest of the ward.
"Oh no."

 

Gregor smiled. "I tried to do things the easy way ... but neither of them would listen. I do wisi Brenda or Francine would have been sensible. What? No Klesps, I'm not backing down either Calipto dies or I die trying."

 

Mortimer sat in a police station. His charges would be doubled for his escape and stealing of the vehicle. He didn't care though, his mind was constantly on the thought of Brenda stopping him from eliminating that creature. Mortimer sat, seething with anger, constantly cursing to himself.
From the shadows, the small creature emerged often, mocking him.
"You failed Mortimer..." it would whisper with glee.
"Shut the f*** up you piece of sh*t! Come in here and fight me f***ing p***y!" Mortimer screamed back. He truly was trapped in his own hell now.

 

Skye smiled as she saw the reporters pile in. She quickly motioned for Jason to take her to her room. She closed herself in as he waited for her out the door. She pushed herself to the closet as she looked for her old clothes. The ones her grandparents had sent her every Christmas. There was never an occasion to look nice, now would be the time. She had to make herself look as sane as possible. They wouldn’t believe her otherwise.

She quickly changed into the nice summer dress. She looked at herself in the mirror as she managed to find one of her brushes. She gently brushed her hair, as she looked at herself. She looked different, that was for sure. The dark circles under he eyes made her look sad. She wasn’t sad, not for the time being. She would make time for that, but now. She needed to talk to those people. She began to rub her eyes, turning her face to a tint of red. She thought of the saddest thing she could think of. She would need to manipulate them. It wasn’t her normal thing, but she was going to give it all she could.

She pushed herself out the door, giving him a smile. He looked at her with confused eyes. She watched as a reporter ran her way. She was being shoved away by some of the orderlies.

Her eye gave a violent twitch as she struggled to push herself towards him. She waved at the reporter as he made his way through. She put out her hand, taking his and shaking it.

“Hello.” She said with a grin, “I’m Skye.”

He smiled at her broadly as he came to sit in her room. She had somethings to get out, though she knew she wouldn’t tell it all, and she knew some of it would be lies. She would just have to make it believeable, and she would have to try and get those she hated in trouble. John and Brenda beware. She thought as he began to ask his questions.

 

My legs were hurting as though a boulder had been dumped over them. My eyes were so dry it was hard to close them and not feel any discomfort. It was bitterly cold, like it always would be in the wards. Even in July, it seemed like I was suffering from frostbite. The door screeched as Eve came in with Cain by her side, holding a tray.

"Medications, Miss. Francine."
A sudden anger shot in my blood and I screamed:
"I'm a DOCTOR! Call me Dr. Francine! DOCTOR!"
The two eyed each other and Cain was to hold me tightly the next moment.
"Any intolerant behavior will result in knocking you out, Miss. Francine."
He warned me as Eve dissolved the tablet in water. This confused me - schizophrenic tablets were not soluble. Despite the question mark, I was still furious and scruffy.
"I'm a doctor! You hear me?!"
I tried shaking Cain off, who sighed and took the glass of medication from Eve.
"Take it, Miss. Francine."
"Dr. Francine! DOCTOR!"
I resisted the glass. Something about it was disturbing, the whole scenario, for that matter; was awful and provocative.
"I...I graduated from high school in 1984. I then studied Medical Science in college, and got my bachelors' degree. I then did Masters in Psychiatry from New York University, you get that? And I have applied for a M. Phil. degree in several institutes! I'm a DOCTOR!!!"
I screamed, at which Cain throttled me and held my mouth open like a funnel.
"You're a schizophrenic patient, Miss. Francine. That's all we can say."
I growled as the medicine ran down my throat. He let go of me, marks of his harshness evident on my neck. They both eyed me guiltily and then immediately injected me. I moaned, crying and sobbing in between. But I knew they had no choice.

I fell down and watched them shut the door on me. There was no light in the room. It was so cold and lonely. I missed my apartment so very much.
"Martha...Martha, please come back."
I prayed as I dozed off.

******​

Martha was the first of my delusions. I started seeing her at the age of twelve in the summer of 1979. I was making a snowman on the beach when she first came to me. She made fun of my snowman, saying it looked like a balloon. I got angry and kicked her, at which she jumped on my snowman and eventually, we ended up fighting in the seawater. That was the best thing about Duluth, my hometown. However, we didn't keep fighting. We eventually became good friends, and our topic of discussion was mostly religion. Martha was an atheist while I was a Jew. We fought over our logics very much, and none of us ever won a debate.

Our friendship gained substance when we started talking about boys, fashion, brothers (she had a little brother too, she claimed) and family. I learned to be more confident from her, and she taught me a few practical jokes I still find amazing. Almost a year later, we could call each other sisters in every way manner but religion. My family was also aware of her presence in my life, but she had never been to our house. It was mainly because Martha was shy of people, and didn't like to socialize too much. Jerry used to tease me, saying she was trying to convert me. But one day, when Jerry said that Martha was afraid of me, I got angry. I pleaded Martha to come over, but she didn't agree. As a last resort, she agreed on flicking some photos of her and showing it to my folks.

We got the pictures first thing after stealing Dad's camera. I took at least thirty pictures, and then got them developed. I was so excited that I almost fainted when the photo developer handed me the pictures. I never had any real friends, and now that Martha was going to be seen by my parents they might allow sleepovers and such! I rushed back home, not even looking at the pictures. I just wanted my parents to see her.

My parents took the pictures and looked through them, a little shaken.
"I know I look awful in them, but Martha looks great, doesn't she?"
My parents exchanged glances and then stared at me insolently.
"Honey, there's no one in these pictures except you."

My brother and mother were of the opinion that I had witnessed a ghost. However, my father was more logical and talked to the psychiatrist in town, who diagnosed me as a 'mild schizophrenic'. Though reluctant, I was forced to have disturbing medication which stole my sleep for at least a month and also caused stomach pains and headaches. But the worst part was that they took Martha from me.

 

Gregor carefully rolled up his pants leg. Where once the flesh had been ruined by seven bullets, it was now soft, pink, and unmarred. Klesps whispered something into his friend's ear.

"Yes Klesps, I am hurrying," said the "doctor"

Gregor let the worls around him fade as he focused on the cells that made up his body. One by one he changed their shape and color. Slowly seven bullet wounds reappeared. They were bloody, pus filled, and clearly uncared for. The initial signs of gangrene shade the outer edges of the wound. Gregor smiled and grabbed a broom handle. Using it like a make shift crutch, and willing the wound to weep freely, he hobbles towards the reporters.

"Help me," he says weakly, "Dr. Brenda won't let them fix my leg. She says I've been bad. Please ... help me." Gregor stumbled and the reporters surround him. "They took Dr. Francine and won't fix my leg."

Let them argue I'm insane, thought Gregor, no one's going to argue with seven untreated bullet holes.