June 2017, Present Time
"Hey, doctor, have you given him his last dose yet?" Dr. Shaheen's voice rings out over the ward as she and the newbie doctor -the ginger freak I call him- discuss the rest of the paitents medication programmes as we recieve our last pills of the night.
That's right. I said we. The deliquents of society, the ones who can never be released. The ones who parents cross the road to get their child away from when they see us in our bright orange uniforms on weekly walks outside.
Those are the moments I live for. Being outside and trying to push everything to the back of my mind. "Paitent number #3871, here is your medication for the evening." Ginger Freak cautiously lays the tray of pills onto the bedside table.
I instantly snake out my hand and wrap it around his wrist. He gives me a nervous, twitchy look but stays frozen in place. He doesn't pull away or look stern with orders like 'let go, Alex'. He stands there frozen, staring at me.
I take in his flopping ginger hair, acne covered face. This guy is fresh out of medical school and he's got the nerves and demeanour to prove it. "Call me by my name, pimple face." I tighten my grip and he whimpers, weakening in his authority.
He looks overpowered. Afraid. So much for being a psychiatric nurse. "Sorry, Sir...um...Alex." He stammers, counting out the pills and dropping them onto the tray beside the shitty liquid that they call water. "I'll....be back in a minute." He rushes off, sheepish.
His white doctor's coat flaps around him as he walks as briskly as he can without it being considered as running. I stare at the stupid pills that are supposed to make everything okay again. The ones that are meant to make me nice, gentle and normal, which is nothing that can ever be achieved by someone like me.
You see, I wasn't always this way. I was a good person. Once. Though I can't remember why I'm here or what I did, Volterra's Mental Asylum has been home for the last eight months. My memories are unreliable and my thoughts are even more ridiculous and confusing.
They tell me I don't think the way other people do. That I don't function the way everyone else does. I know it doesn't make sense. Things sound great in my head but I'm shit at talking out loud. It's like I've forgotten how to communicate since I arrived here.
It's because of the voices.
Yes, voices. There are several of them. Some are cruel, degrading and offensive. Others are just plain annoying and persisent. Either way, I'm stuck with them and they're stuck with me. Stuck inside my head.
"What are you doing?" I look across the communal living room to see Carl, the only one of my voices to ever take form as a person, sitting on the windowsill, legs dangling casually, kicking his feet. He's got brown hair and green eyes and I've never asked him but he can't be more than fourteen.
But don't let appearances fool you. He can take many forms. An older guy, a baby...anything you can imagine. He is a manipulative, unpredictable little shit and no matter how much pointless medicine I take, he never goes away and always resurfaces sometime later.
"What's it look like I'm doing?" I huff, rising from the overstuffed armchair in front of the TV before making my way out of the room, but of course he follows. "Stop, Alex." He orders but I keep walking briskly ahead down the corridors to make it to my room in time before the bells symbol that playtime is over and it's time for bed.
I unlock my bedroom door with the unique keycard that stays around my neck on a loose thread. On it reads paitent number 3871, my age and gender, and these days, they are the only pieces of information that remind me of who I am any more.
Before I can even flop onto my bed, Carl is there, stretched out before me, leisurely taking up my space when all I want to do is sleep. "Move. Please." I start to undress instead, pulling out the white pyjamas they supply if no one brings any others for you.
'You're stupid if you think he's actually going to move for you.'
That's Richard. He's the voice that is the most degrading and cruel. He's also pretty straight to the point though and not afraid to speak his mind. He's been pretty loud with his opinions recently. 'Alex isn't stupid.' Another pipes up, one with no name yet. 'Yes he is.'
'Maybe he isn't.'
'Or is. Or isn't.'
'But maybe he's thick. Thick as a plank.'
'And crazy. But maybe he's not crazy.'
They battle it out against each other inside my head none of them making any sense whatsoever while Carl on the other hand shows no interest in moving. "Get off my bed, Carl." I sigh deeply.
I'm not in the mood for a full on confrontation right now and I know it's going to be pretty much impossible to avoid an argument with him if I raise my voice. "Make me." He challenges, looking smug. "You're nothing but a stupid teenager, Carl. I don't even know who you are!" I outburst and he smiles knowingly.
"I've told you. I'm here to haunt you. Forever." He reminds me for the hundrenth time since we've 'met'. "That still doesn't tell me who you are." I groan, walking into the bathroom to wash my face. There's a knock at the door and the voices start back up again.
'A visitor! We've got a vis-i-tor!!' That's Sandee, she's one of my only voices that practically sings everything that she wants to say. She's definately one of the more annoying voices.
'Someone's at the door.'
'Who is it?'
'Who iiiis it?' Sandee sings. "Shut up." I mutter, dropping my flannel to answer the door. 'SHUT UP!' They all mock as one, which makes me wince. As soon as I touch the door handle, they quieten down and Carl vanishes so not even I can see him. He does that sometimes.
I swing open the door with a look of attitude on my face to find it's Dr. Shaheen, an exotic looking woman who is nowhere near as sweet as she comes across when you first arrive. She is harsh, hot tempered but orderly and authoritive in meetings, asserting her power any time she can.
In other words, she's a bitch.
She stands there with my medicine tray in her hand, looking like she'd rather be anywhere other than at my door. "Mr. Danvers. You left your medicine in the communal room. I need to see you take it please." She orders in a no-taking-any-shit kind of way.
I give her my best eye roll and a first class glare to make up for not being able to tell her no or shoving the pills right back in her face. Instead, I scoop up the handful of pills, two lots.
One for GAD- generalized anxiety disorder- and for SCZI- schizophrenia- where most of my voices and 'imaginary people' come from. These psychiatrists are a load of shit. They think if they string a few letters together and call them a medical condition then they'll be seen as clever and sosphisticated.
Like fuck.
I chug the pills and water in one, shuddering from the aftertaste. Dr. Shaheen nods approval. "Thank you Mr. Danvers, have a good sleep." She closes my door, without another word. I swear half of these people can't even hold a decent conversation.
"You know you have to take them because you're crazy." Carl pipes up, reappearing at the foot of the bed, so I take that as an opportunity to sprawl across it before he can take the space again. "I'm not." I insist, picking up a half heartedly read book I have on my table.
"It's true. You're off your head. That's why you're locked away." He reminds. He leans closer, dangerously near. "That's why your mother sent you away when you were fourteen."
"Enough!" I swipe for him, trying to wrap my hands around his neck but he dodges, and I know I'm in trouble as he morphs, getting bigger and bigger until he turns into a large looming tree with a gnarled face.
Other trees pop up everywhere, spurting from my bedroom floor, making the tiles crack and split. Gnarled trees with evil, twisted expressions. They all zone in on me, leaning close, Carl the biggest one of all.
I scream, covering my face with my arms and burrowing my head under a pillow.
"Yeah. That's what I thought." Carl says smugly and I resurface to see the trees have disappeared. "Just look at you, Alex. You can't face the truth. You're bonkers. Crazy. Dangerous." He vanishes without another word and the gloom hanging over the room evaporates.
I breathe out a sigh of relief. My name is Alex Danvers and I'm a psychopath.