Chapter Four "I'll kill you if I ever get the chance!"
My head pounding; that was my alarm clock this morning. Everything seemed louder, even the doctors whispering down the hall before they made their rounds, and the sunlight sifting into my room from the barred window was blinding. I wished they would put blinds into my room; maybe that would help with my constant migraines.
I had become very religious when I came here, though before I did, I never even believed in God, or that there was anything after death, simply darkness. I can’t say I believe in heaven, but I do believe something happens after we die. There can’t just be an emptiness; there just can’t. I want to say it’s because I know everyone is unique and their soul has to go somewhere, but it’s mostly a selfish reason. There can’t be emptiness after death; death is all I have to look forward to.
The very first night I was here, I knew I would never leave, and so I prayed. I prayed for someone to come save me, maybe a hero of some sort.
I’d been to church a few times with my mother when I was a young girl, I remember that, and I remember the pastor telling stories about these men and women who saw God in their dreams, giving them advice or simply blessing them. That has never happened to me. The angels have never spoken to me, saying everything will be alright or even that I was still loved. I had a feeling that since I take drugs, forced or not, I would never be accepted in the afterlife.
My head, raging, making me curl into a ball in pain, I decided to whisper a small prayer. It wasn’t much, in fact I felt stupid for saying it, but I just asked for the pain to go away. I prayed for mercy, for something to just kill me already and make this end.
Again, there were no angels, no God, simply a loud banging on my door, making me yelp in pain. “Hero, are you okay in there?” A doctor called. I couldn’t tell who it was by their voice.
They knocked loudly on the door again then yelled to another doctor to give him the keys to my cell. All the while, I thrashed on my small bunk, wishing this man would just leave me be.
It felt as if my head was beginning to split in two, making me wriggle and fuss more. I tried to bottle the pain inside, not letting out a scream, in fear that if I started I’d never stop.
And just as quickly as it had come, just as the doctors opened my cell door and ran inside, just as I felt myself begin to slip; the pain stopped.
The light didn’t hurt my eyes anymore, their voices didn’t bang on my brain anymore – I just stared blankly up at the ceiling, letting the waves of nothing wash over me, collecting all the pain and pushing it away.
“What the hell was that?” One of the doctors yelled at me. I turned slightly to look at him, seeing him, Dr. Sean, and many other Labcoats standing in my cell. It took me a long time to realize the doctor yelling at me was Dr. Allen. “You had me worried! I thought the drug had destroyed you! Why do you have to be so dramatic about everything, why can’t you just let the drug run your system? Stop trying to fight, you’re just making it harder on yourself!” He continued to scream at me, telling me how I was a failure in every possible way, saying I was the reason this drug wasn’t working.
I could do nothing as he continued to yell, I couldn’t speak up or even lift a finger. The pain had left me weak, but I felt…better, healthier even. It felt strange; for so many days I had been in pain, depressed, my skin burning and flaking – but now, I felt…normal.
Dr. Allen ran a frustrated hand through his salt and pepper hair, slicked back with too much oil. “Never mind, never mind, it’s fine now. As long as this doesn’t happen again, I’m sure you will be fine… Amy wasn’t strong enough, it doesn’t surprise me.” He muttered.
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Rhylee has been a prisoner of this place for six years. They took her when she was only thirteen, injecting heroin into her veins as soon as they locked her in that pure white cell. Doctors who found the art in making illegal drugs, the money, the g...