Don't Worry Darling

Down The Rabbit Hole

Population Count: 87- 'Down The Rabbit Hole'

The discordant sound of metal scraping against a plate brutally rouses me from a surprisingly tranquil rest. Voices flood my head as a high-pitched ringing abuses my ears, like tinnitus. I struggle to open my eyes, I struggle to move my body. My muscles aching and tightening, cramping my legs, stomach, arms.

I try to scream but no sound comes out and my throat burns from the putrid taste of blood. My eyes shutter open. Flickering hospital lights on the ceiling. I feel the material that I'm clothed in; dirty, linen, surgical scrubs. I look at my wrists; bound. My ankles; bound. Ties to the cold metal table like a prisoner. A prisoner to my own existence.

The door opens, creating a brief pause of silence. A few words are exchanged but they make no sense to me. It just sounds like a muddle of distorted syllables. The door closes as an intense ring light is positioned inches from my face. I squint to shield my eyes.

More words are spoken as a stick with gel is sloppily rubbed into my temples, leaking into my eyes. I wince in pain, not knowing it's going to get a lot worse. A person walks behind my head and picks up one of the instruments. He holds up a curved metal semi-circle with two padded ends, connected to a voltage tank by a wire.

Fuck.

Possibly one of the most inhumane treatments ever. Electroshock Therapy. No wonder Charlotte was different. Her brain was wiped. Like a hard drive, erased.

No way out and a long way

                                                           d

                                                                         o

                                                                                       w

                                                                                                         n

                                                                                                                    .

I try to free myself of the restraints by jolting my arms upwards to break them, but it doesn't work. A needle slowly penetrates my arm, immobilising me. It doesn't numb anything.

I. Just. Can't. Move.

"Turn her up." I hear a voice say, the last thing I hear before a dreadful buzzing noise becomes the only thing I can hear. A gloved hand comes closer to my face.

Nothing in the world could ever prepare me for this.

Tears come streaming down my face, staining it a pigmented crimson. My muffled screams reverberating, shredding my throat. The voltage becomes even higher, my body convulsing, like I'm having a seizure. I ball the sheets in my fists, to stop me from scratching my eyes out, in excruciating agony. Though I suppose that's what the cuffs are for. It seems to last forever. Eternal torture. I'm now permanently deafened by the high-pitched whining and my own screams.

I'm suffocating. Drowning in fear. In torment. As I drift into the void....