ASYLUM [5SOS]

RECOUNT

[A/N: Asylum fanart by hxmmingspls on twitter]

RECOUNT

Calum

[static]

Dr. Radar: Calum, we're going to record today's session, okay? I'm going to ask you a few questions, and you're going to answer them as best as you can, okay? Remember, we want to help you.

Calum: [hesitant] Okay.

R: If it gets to be too much, tell me, and I'll ask you another question. Remember, nothing you say can incriminate you.

C: [nervous laugh] I don't believe you.

R: You've been checked into an asylum, Calum. Any charges will be excused with an official medical diagnosis. Do you understand?

C: I guess.

R: Did you grow up with both of your parents, Calum?

C: Yes.

R: Did both of your parents show affection to you?

C: [automatically] Yes. [pauses] [whispers] No.

R: Was it your mother?

[silence]

R: Is this question okay?

C: [barely audible] Yes.

R: Yes it was your mother, or yes the question is okay?

C: My father.

R: Your father treated you without affection?

C: [whispers] He... he was horrible. He made me do... bad things... [quicker, louder, panicking] I didn't want to do it! He beat me up all the time because I wasn't good enough, and he made me do bad things I didn't want to. But I couldn't say no because he'd beat me! He'd hurt me, and no! I can't say any more! He'll find me and he'll beat me again! [starts to cry]

R: [soothing] I promise he won't find you.

C: [sniffles] Doesn't he know I'm here?

R: No. Calum... he passed away.

C: [stunned] Passed aw- what?

R: He died of overdose a few hours after the cop detained you.

C: Why didn't anyone tell me?

R: You weren't in the best condition.

C: Oh god. Oh god, oh god, what am I gonna do?

R: Help us out. Help yourself out. Let us help you. What happened with your father?

C: I... I can't say it. Can I write it?

R: Yes. Hold on.

C: [whispers] I'm sor-

[tape ends]

-

An Account by Calum Hood
Edited by Dr. Radar

For as long as I could remember, my dad hit me. If I dropped my food, he hit me. If I broke a toy, he hit me. If I ever did anything the littlest bit wrong, he beat me.

I still have the scars.

My mom loved me.

My dad beat her, too.

She could have left. She should have. But they would have given custody to my dad, because he was the one with the job, and they probably would have thought my mom wouldn't have been able to care for me.

She cared for me a lot more than my dad did.

One day, my dad gave me a book to read. He told me that if I wasn't the smartest in my class, I was "a worthless piece of shit." I didn't even know that was a bad word when I was five. It was a part of my vocabulary.

But the words. The words wouldn't stay still. They spun around and flipped and swapped places. My teacher told me and my dad I had dyslexia.

My dad hated that.

My dad was not tolerant of mistakes. He beat me up for that, and he beat my mom up for that. He told me it was my mom's fault that the letters didn't cooperate with me.

He taught me how to use a gun, and made me use it on her.

I didn't want to. I really didn't want to. You have to believe me. He told me he'd beat me up and kill me if I didn't kill her.

But I didn't know what killing was. I didn't know what the gun did.

He just said to pull the trigger.

I got into drugs in middle school. That was my excuse for everything. The drugs made me forget everything I did. The drugs gave me an excuse. The letters flipped around because of the drugs, not the dyslexia. Not true, but a good enough excuse for me.

And then the cop caught me, and he found the drugs I'd gotten at the party to replenish my store. He pulled out a gun.

I thought it was my dad, finally coming to get me.

I swear, I didn't want her to die.

I swear.