Chapter 4:
My arm began to tingle and I recognized the sensation of the liquid seeping through my veins. Ripping the tube from my arm, I spun to face the other occupants of my room. They'd snuck in while I'd been busy pounding the nurse's body to a bloody pulp. I definitely wasn't going to let them put me to sleep again.
I was half blinded by adrenaline and tears, but I noticed as someone tried to pull Rae's mangled body away from me. Half supporting myself on the bed, I began to fight. Using my free hand and my cast as a weapon, it was amazing how much damage I could do. There were more and more of them arriving and I knew that I wouldn't win, I just had to let this out. Someone had to pay. An eye for an eye, fair is fair.
Swinging my leg like a window wiper, a well placed punch to the jaw; they both brought them down so easily. Somehow, I'd managed to balance on one foot while I placed a hand on either side of a man's head.
“Jane, stop! Don't break his neck! I know you'd regret it. Fight it! Contain it! Hurting these people will do nothing!”
Doctor Jamison's words hit me hard. What was I doing? I couldn't even remember why I was doing it, one more thing I could add to the pile of missing memories. Maybe I didn't want to remember my past after all. I let go of the man and let my body go limp. My falling form was slammed backwards onto the bed, as I was tackled. How was I supposed to explain this one?
Maybe it was the head wound, or maybe it was the small amount of drug that had made its way into my system; maybe a combination of the two. Whatever the reason, I felt myself floating back into my mind. As I reached out, searching for memories, the pain of being held against a bed began to subside until I felt nothing at all.
All I had to do was keep my eyes closed. It was amazing that there were so few of us that had learned to trick the system. Really just Ian and I, as far as I knew. Every vein and muscle in my body was screaming for me to do something other than just sit here, I ignored them. Having no idea what kind of drugs were running through my system was a scary feeling. However, contrary to popular belief, I loved the initiation rooms.
Well, no, love wouldn't exactly be the right word. I found calm in deflecting it. This was one of my personality flaws, one of my dirty little fantasies. Sometimes all I wanted to do was sit still and let everything run over me. I wished I could ignore the world and just go with the flow. That was impossible however, for my mind would never allow it. It was easier for me, than other people. I could shut it out, and instead of of floating in the forced dreams I could float in my own.
I'd done it by accident the first time, but as they upped the doses—realizing that something was off—I'd had to practice letting go of reality. Of course, I couldn't fight off the actual Procedure. I hadn't had to do that the first time. This was only the second time I'd experienced it.
I'd just noticed that the pictures had stopped flashing, when the door swung open. The light burned me, through my eye lids. Quickly, as not to arouse more suspicion, I uncrossed my legs and crumpled to the floor. I had to pretend to be limp. I should be limp.
“Come on, get up.”
A foot prodded into my back. I made a small sound, but didn't move. They were just testing me.
“Do you want us to leave you in here for another go?”
They used the same lines every time. When I was eight it had caused me to get to my feet. Even then, I'd been smart enough to know not to talk. That original theory had proved to be the code I lived my life by. Ian hadn't even needed to tell me.
“Not so tough now, eh, you little bitch?”
That was good, he'd bought it. If felt myself being lifted up and I cracked my eyelids open an inch, sneaking a peak. The small pieces of skin moved slowly, from being held shut for so long. I was being carried down a long, white hallway. I knew where I was being taken. It was the first part of this place I'd ever known.
“Special delivery,” I felt myself being thrown onto the ground. Thank god it was padded.
I did my best to loosen all my muscles and I rolled across the floor, in the most convincing way. Now that my face was looking away from the man, I deemed it safe to open my eyes. I wasn't where I thought I'd be. This was a definite glitch in the plan.
Deciding to improvise, I drew my legs up under me and moved into a sitting position. It should have started to wear off by now anyways. The sudden force of gravity acting on my head sent the world spinning. I was dizzy and I felt sick to my stomach. Maybe I'd been affected more than I liked to admit.
“Jaylee, can you please come sit up in this chair please?” The female voice was surprisingly gentle.
Raising my head, I surveyed the room through squinting eyes. It was simple and white with one leather chair facing a big white screen. I didn't want to do as the voice asked, but I knew that, in this state, I was supposed to be completely obedient. The chair didn't look suspicious enough to give up my only advantage over, plus the floor was uncomfortable. Scooting across the white pads on my butt, I pulled myself up into the seat. Much to my relief, nothing shot out to confine me. They must not think it was necessary, considering where I'd just arrived from.
The shape of the chair felt good and I was hard pressed to keep my eyes open. No weakness. Wait, wasn't I supposed to be pretending to be weak? My mind was much too scrambled to deal with the paradox. The giant screen flared to life, to show the face of a brunette woman.
“Your name is Willa Florence, correct?”
“Uh...”
I wasn't sure. That was stupid. If it was my name wouldn't I be able to tell right away? Willa seemed right, in a absurd way, but the named I'd just been called before seemed much better. What had that been again?
“That's fine, if you can't answer the question we can move on.”
I nodded, mesmerized by the movement of her obviously computer generated mouth.
“Your name is Jaylee Rechard.” This time it didn't even sound like a question.
That was it, the name that had sounded right.
“Yeah...?” I answered, unsure of myself.
“Correct!” The voice's excitement wasn't genuine.
“Bu-but I don't understand,” I interjected, my world was spinning. “I'm Willa, I mean... I was Willa.” Everything was coming back to me.
“Correct.”
“But how can I be two people at once?”
This was the second morning in a row that I had been brought out of my slumber by the beeping of my heart rate monitor. This time, however, I knew exactly where I was. I was still in a hospital bed and I still had no idea who I was... or did I? The boy, Ian, had told me that my name was Jaylee, and for some reason I was inclined to believe him.
Groaning, I attempted to push myself into a sitting position, only to find that I was tied to my bed with some sort of restraint. Panicked, I began to thrash around; slamming my upper arms, repeatedly, into the cold plastic. In my frenzy, I'd noticed that I was now in a different room. This one had no inviting open window, but a slit, covered in bars.
“Jane calm down. Just take a deep breath.”
I recognized that voice, it was Doctor Jamison... James. Turning towards the source of the voice, I saw him standing there, in the doorway, a pained expression on his face.
“Why am I tied up?” I asked, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. The feeling of being restrained almost pushed me into hysteria.
The wrists were held to the edges of the bed by two cuffs. Aside from that, there were also two bars, one over my forearms and one across my middle.
“You've been deemed a threat to yourself and others.” His voice was cold and emotionless, and, as I stared at him, he avoided my eyes.
“What did I duh-” I stopped in mid sentence, as my actions from the previous day came rushing back. “Is she okay?” I asked, and I felt tears beginning to accumulate in the corners of my eyes.
How could I have done such a thing? At the time it had seemed so justified, it had seemed like she had it coming. He nodded.
“She's alive. She's in intensive care, but she's fine. She was already in a hospital, after all.”
“What was I thinking?” I moaned, more to myself than to James. “I'm not that kind of person, I hope I'm not that kind of person.”
“Well, I am your psychiatrist,” he said, contempt in his voice, “therefore, I do have a diagnosis.”
I looked at him, expectantly, and he took a couple of steps into the room.
“It just feels weird,” he said, almost embarrassed, “to be talking to a patient like this. It doesn't feel right. I've been thinking of you differently, from the beginning, and look where that's got me.”
Swallowing, I looked away, embarrassed of how I'd betrayed his trust.
“So what've I got, doc?” I asked, my weak attempt at humor falling flat.
He smiled slightly then continued. “In psychiatry nothing is ever definite, but it would appear that you have a form of PTSD. What trauma brought this on, I have no idea. You're aggravation is also caused by an overwhelming confusion and an unhealthy paranoia. Which, in your case, I completely understand.”
I felt different all of a sudden, as if being told that I was crazy had made me such. I was deeply glad that James had decided to just be straight with me. Being lied to would have just made my unhealthy paranoia worse.
“So,” James continued, taking a seat beside my bed, “we have a very difficult decision to make. Are we going to pump you full of drugs, before letting you up? Or are we going to trust you to control yourself?”
What kind of question was that? “What do you think I'm going to choose?” I asked, the sarcasm heavy in my voice.
He smiled, “I thought you'd say that, but I had to ask. You have to understand that I'm putting my job on the line to give you this second chance. I'm already in deep shit, pardon my language. I didn't request you be transferred to the psychiatry wing, I deemed you mentally in control. Then you go and put a nurse in intensive care.”
I flinched back, but the anger in his voice was not directed at me. It was internally turned. He blamed himself for what I'd done. This made me feel worse and better at the same time. It made me feel horrible knowing the trouble I'd caused him, but I felt myself heave a sigh of relief on realizing that no one was mad at me. I wasn't in control of my own actions. Actually...that didn't feel all that great after all.
“It will not happen again.” I tried to raise the intensity in my voice. He had to understand that I meant it.
He walked up to my bed and removed the two plastic straps, leaving me with just the wrist restraints.
“Jane, you can't just make this decision lightly. If you mess this up you could end up in a mental institution for the rest of your life. I'm not stupid, I know that there's something fishy going on. But if you blow this we're never going to get a chance to find out what.”
Freezing for a moment, I took his words into account. Could I do it? Right now I couldn't understand what had prompted me to attack Rae. It's not like Ian had told me to. What if it happened again? Would I be able to control myself?
“I'm going to try,” I said, clenching and unclenching my fists.
He nodded and wordlessly released the buckles. With a sigh of relief, I pushed myself into a sitting position. I hated the feeling of being restrained and now that I was again in control of my own movements, I was sure I could do it.
“You're going to have to take these pills,” said James, taking a small baggy out of his pocket. “The doctor tended to your head wound while you were asleep, but you've got to take these before breakfast.”
As he slipped the small coloured objects into my hand, I said, “shouldn't a nurse be doing this?”
“Seriously,” he said, smiling slightly, “if you were a nurse would you go into your room?”
“Then why do you?” I asked, knowing that I was pushing my luck. James was all I had right now.
“Why wouldn't I? I like you.”
“I mean, aren't you afraid of me?”
“Should I be?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
I paused then shook my head slightly. I meant him no harm. Settling back into my pillow, I accepted a Styrofoam cup of water. As I popped the three pills into my mouth James continued to talk.
“I know you might not be up to it, but your um... family wants to see you again. They're going to let you talk to a couple of your old friends on the phone. Maybe it will help you jog your memory.”
I nodded, but my mind was somewhere else. “Could you ask the police to run a name for me?” I asked, hugging my pillow nervously.
“Yes, of course.” The excitement in the doctor's voice was unmistakable. “Did you remember something.”
“No... well yes. I was referred to by that name in the majority of my dreams, but I didn't really remember until Ian told me.”
“Who's Ian?” James asked, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.
“He was in my flashbacks, but last night I saw him in person.”
“Jane, are you sure you weren't still dreaming? There were security cameras outside your room and they picked up nothing.”
“That's because he climbed in through the window. I think he did at least, he definitely got out that way.”
“That's impossible, your old room was on the sixth floor.”
“Well he got in somehow!” I didn't know where my anger had suddenly come from, but it probably stemmed from the distrust I heard in James's voice. “I could tell that it wasn't a dream. All my dreams are flashbacks and I saw him in the present.”
The doctor shook his head sadly. “I'm not one to discourage these flashbacks. But I really think that you should put less stalk in your dreams. You're treating them like there's no chance for them to be inaccurate. Have you considered that maybe they're just your imagination?”