Nightmares Chap 5.

Chap 5.

         Last night I'd fallen asleep out of pure exhaustion.
         As we'd arrived at Pine Peak Asylum they'd led me straight to a vacant room and removed the jacked and I'd instantly collapsed on the hard, boring bed I was used to.
         Today, I felt like crap.
         Sedatives always did this to me. And that bastard Njor, sorry... Dr. Winters, as he constantly reminded me to call him, was always pumping me full of the stuff. Ever since that day a couple of years back, when he was first assigned as my doctor, when I'd bitten him, pretty much like the events of yesterday with Finn, he always made sure to be more safe than sorry when it came to 'Special Case Keily'.
         Special Case, I snorted mentally. Special Case my ass. I'm not any more special than the other freaks you have here. You're just scared.
         Since then he always kept at least one shot of sedatives in his pocket. He probably had one now as well.
         I glared at him from across the table, keeping silent. I'd rather wait to speak until Frayda got here. Njor had tried to start up a conversation about what'd happened yesterday, but I hadn't answered. I just kept glaring at him, my arms crossed over my chest, shoulders drawn up. I hated this room. It made me feel uncomfortable and like some dangerous criminal.
         Only the handcuffs are missing, I thought wryly. Not that they were necessary to add to the prisoner feeling. I'd been in here with a straight jacket on more than on one occasion... Thanks to Dr. Winters of course.
         We were in the special-care-for-dangerous-patients room, as I called it. It was like a cubicle of solid steel. The walls were made of some kind of polished steel, gray, stale and shining in the light from the fluorescent lamps. The single table was wood and scared in various places with only four chairs around it. Two on my side, two on his. It all very much resembled one of those hearing rooms at police stations you saw in movies. The ones where they always played good cop bad cop on the guy and where someone stood on the other side of a large mirror, observing it all.
         In situations like these, when they didn't really know how stable the patient was at that moment, the doctors preferred to use this room instead of one of the more comfortable decorated ones. Especially with me, with my tendency to set various things on fire, they rather used this room that also was fire-safe.
         I heard the familiar bleep and clicking sound as the large security door behind me was unlocked and someone walked in, the door falling shut behind them with a dense thud and another click as it locked itself.
         Like I said, just like a prison.
         Frayda, my long term therapist, didn't touch me but greeted me with a word and a warm smile as she took her place next to Njor. After the very first time we met, about five years ago, she'd known how much I hated when people I didn't have a strong connection to touched me. It could be as simple as they put a hand on my shoulder, I still hated the feeling. But my bastard doctor never seemed to get the message. He always tried to touch in one way or the other, probably thought I would be more comfortable around him if he acted like a proper father-figure.
         You lost that chance the first time you ordered a straight jacket on me, dumbass.
         “Keily,” Frayda called on my attention. I looked at her hesitantly, not wanting to meet her eyes.
         She must be so disappointed, I thought.
         The past year I'd been on such good behavior she'd managed to get me free of this place, and what did I do? As soon as I get out I go nuts...
         “What happened yesterday, Keily?” Her voice was soft, mothering. She knew how to make me talk, a true expert at her job.
         I shook my head weakly.
         “I don't know.” I whispered. I'd started to shake again. Anguish and regret tore at my soul and I got so lost in memories of yesterday and Julies crying face I didn't hear when she called my name, trying to get my attention again.
         “Keily!” she barked at me, to then instantly return to her calm demeanor as I jerked back to reality, looking at her.
         My breath had quickened and I could her my pulse pounding fast in my ears. Njor was tense, ready to storm up and stick a needle in my neck if necessary, I figured. But when he saw my breathing slowing as I locked eyes with my therapist he as well calmed down and returned to his previous relaxed position.
         “We talked about this.” She said. “Don't wallow on things. Just tell me what happened, OK? Will you tell me about yesterday, Keily?”
         I told her in a low voice about the nightmares, about the first meeting with Finn and my feelings about it all. More than one time I stole a glance at Njor to see how he reacted when I started talking about my, to Frayda known, druid hatred. He didn't move a muscle or changed his calm face, so he didn't give me any clues to as if he finally realized that I disliked him.
         When I was finished Frayda simply leaned back in her chair, tapping the pen she normally wore behind her ear against her lower lip and with a thoughtful expression on her face. I watched her green eyes wander to the roof as they always did when she contemplated my various answers. I liked to look at her. Her thick waves of carrot-red hair were kept loose in a curly disarray around her freckled face and she always wore broad fake gold bracelets and large gold earrings. I'd always envied her colorful appearance, feeling bleak and dull beside her.
         Dr. Winters leaned forward, placing his large strong arms on the table, locking his hands together in a way that made him look like a busyness man that tried to convince a customer to buy his product, and looked at me intensively. I hated when he did that and I unconsciously drew my legs up, placing my heels on the edge of the chair, creating a wall of flesh and bone between us. He made me nervous when he looked at me in that way and I dimly wondered if that perhaps was his idea, to see if I was hiding something from them.
         A piece of glass had gotten stuck pretty deep in my left heel yesterday and the taped up wound now hurt when it was forced to press hard against the seat to keep my foot from gliding off. The ache kept me from drifting of into memories and regrets again and I thanked it for that at least.
         “All I can see here,” Frayda began, “is an unfortunate event that doesn't really require you to get admitted again. You were tired, hungry and stressed, and such conditions can make even the most healthy person to react in special ways.” I took a deep breath of relief at the statement but then stopped suddenly, catching the exhale in my throat. They both noticed it.
         “Is there something you're not telling us, sweetie?” came Njors suspecting voice.
         Stop calling me that! Why did he insist on the whole 'sweetie' part?
         I twisted uncertainly in my chair, not wanting to look at either of them at that moment. I hadn't told them everything. But I didn't feel comfortable with talking about this with the doctor in the room. I'd rather wished it was just me and Frayda I buried my head in my knees and wrapped my arms around it all as I murmured, “I didn't want to stop. I wanted him to hit me... I couldn't stop!” It ended in a wail and I started to shake and cry again.
         I only dimly heard the relieved sigh from the therapist and how she told me that I shouldn't lay to much weight on it. I looked at her over the rim of my left arm, trying to focus on what she was saying.
         “It's your defense mechanism, Keily. We've been over it before, haven't we?”
         I gave her a faint, hesitant nod, knowing that we had talked about defenses in the past, but I couldn't remember to much of what had been said about it.
         “You have always defended yourself with anger and fighting. I've seen it on several occasions. The times you're able to repress the violent urges you just turn your back on it all, ignoring the things that makes you angry. That is good. And the past year you've gotten so good on it. But yesterday you were to tired and stressed out to have that strength. So it was all a reaction to your current weak state of mind. As long as you take care of yourself and eat and sleep properly and take the medicine you are proscribed, thing like this should be easy for you to avoid, aren't I right, Keily?”
         I nodded again. She was right. I knew she was. And it made me feel a little better about myself and I could finally relax. My feet slipped of the chair and landed on the floor with a thud.
         Ouch! Damn foot!
         “I suggest you stay another night to get a good nights sleep and some food, but you can go home to Juliana again tomorrow.” Freya smiled, glad that the situation hadn't been so serious after all. “So I guess we're done here. Want me to follow you to your room?”
         I started to nod, but Njor interrupted us as I started to rise.
         “There is actually something I would like to talk to Keily about, if you don't mind, Dr. Gunner. In private. I can follow her to her room after that”
         “Oh. Alright. If that's OK with Keily, then I guess so.”
         It really wasn't. I didn't want to stay and talk with him. I just wanted to go back to my room and sleep or something. But, he being my doctor I figured I shouldn't refuse. It might actually be important, right? So I nodded and Freya left the room to go back to whatever she'd been doing before, and I was stuck with Njor.
         Sigh...
         “Well,” he started, rummaging around in the overly sized pocket of his lab coat. “I know you're only staying here for one more night, but I decided to be prepared anyway, if the future would suddenly stir in a different direction of the problem.”
         I stared at him with suspect. Now what?
         “I ordered this a couple of months ago, but you behaved so well I didn't think it was necessary to bring it up back then. But when I got the call from Dr Green yesterday,” that was Daniel, “I decided I should at least show it to you so that you know what to expect if anything bad should happen.” With 'bad' I guessed he meant something like he, or anyone else, getting bitten or hurt by me in any other way.
         He placed something on the table then and I looked at it carefully from where I sat. A collar, and a sterile wrapped syringe. Why? I didn't understand anything and apparently he could see the puzzlement on my face.
         “This,” he said and picked up the collar, “is a magic-suppressor.” I flinched at his words.
         What!?
         “If I notice you are being unstable in any way, this comes on, understood?”
         I just stared at him in shock. What was I supposed to say to that?!
         “If you're wondering, it's made of a soft sort of metal and charmed in a way that when it encircles your neck, it fuses together, not leaving a rim or any way for the bearer to get it off.” I stared at it in disgust. “The only one that can take it of is me, get it?”
         My heavy swallow seemed to indicate to him that I did indeed.
         I thought he was finished then but next he picked up the syringe, holding it between his thumb and index finger, showing it to me clearly.
         What was this new devilry?
         “Do you know what this is?” His eyes narrowing as he inspected the expression on my face, and his mouth formed a smug smile.
         I was pretty sure that 'syringe' was the wrong answer, so I answered uncertainly, “Sedative?”
         His smile grew wider, creating wrinkles in his russet face, and at that moment he really looked like a dangerous green-eyed beast from the wilderness. It was the first time I'd actually been afraid of him.
         “This,” he waved it in front of my nose, “is a tranquilizer shot.”
         My breath got caught in my throat.
         “It's mainly used on large animals such as bears and horses. But, since regular sedatives seem to run of you like water on a goose, I got permission from the medical board to use this.”
         Have I told you lately how much I hate you?
         “This will knock you out within seconds.” The bastard still had a huge smile on his face. He truly seemed to enjoy it all, unlike me that just wanted to kill him.
         He tapped the syringe lightly against my forehead in a teasing manner before he tucked the things back in his pocket. Then got up and walked around to my side of the table, taking a firm grip of my upper arm and leaned down to whisper in my ear. “ Any funny busyness, at all, and the collar is yours. Try to run away and I have a syringe with your name on it. Just keep these things in mind, sweetheart.” He practically dragged me off the chair and marched over to the door. Thankfully he let go of my arm when we got there.
         True to his word he followed me to my room, despite the fact that I told him repeatedly that I easily could find it myself, I'd been living there for almost seven years after all. But he insisted and when he stood in my doorway, finally ready to leave me alone, he cupped my face in one of his big brown hands, stroking my cheek with his thumb. I stood there, frozen to the ground, perplexed. What in the Gods name was he doing!?          
         “Enjoy your stay.” He softly ran his finger down the bridge of my nose before he released me and walked out of the room.
         Was a doctor allowed to do that?! He couldn't be! I felt my stomach churning uncomfortably. The whole situation made me sick and I rushed into the small bathroom to throw up.

         End Chap 5.