Demented by Sherry Levesque

All hope abandon, ye who enter here.
Let us not speak of them, but look, and pass on.
Dante Alighieri

Chapter 1

Bright lights! Painfully squinting, she finds her night vision destroyed. Abby tries to raise her hands over her face. Feeling restraints holding her bruised arms, she then hears rapid-fire questions coming from unseen people hiding in the shadows.

She hears the whirring of something in the distance. Sensing her nakedness is only covered by a sheet, she tries to move her head, but finds it confined by a brace of some kind.

A blast of cold air explodes with hurricane force over her body, causing uncontrollable shivering. She’s unable to tell where she is— indoors or out, in her own neighborhood or in some cow pasture being questioned by aliens.

Abby tries frantically to reference something, anything. She’s hit with another icy explosion and quakes hysterically. The smell of a repugnant perfume causes vomit to pool in the back of her throat.

“Do you know your name?” a husky female voice asks.

Lying in silence, the athletically built, forty-five-year-old brunette can’t focus let alone answer the many questions being thrown her way.

It never fails. Every time she attempts to move the few inches afforded her to peer into the murkiness, a sadistic light beam hits her squarely in the eyes, leaving her blind. Everything seems just out of reach. Her physical and mental nucleus are so scattered she can’t
come to the importance of anything. Drugs, she thinks. This is some of the best of something.

Cotton mouth has her tongue sticking to its roof. Her lips are cracking and bleeding. She starts to panic. The frustrated welterweight attempts to speak, but all that comes out is a jumble of unintelligible words. To her, the sounds are coming from another mouth half a mile away.

Two strong, black-gloved hands grab her shoulders and shake her violently, nearly pushing her from the gurney she is confined to.

“Hey! Wake up.” A man’s voice comes from somewhere to her right. “Abigail! Quit playing games with me!” She cringes.

The dark, imposing figure to her left says, “Major! Major, can you hear me?” Abigail jumps. Stunned, she is unable to answer. “Major?” There has to be a mistake. Barely able to shake her head in confusion, she says, “No, no,” completely sure that’s one thing she’s never been called in her life. “No.”

“Do you know where you are?” the man asks her.

“Orchard Valley Hospital,” she says, working as much saliva as possible across her teeth and trying hard to keep from screaming. “I was in a very bad car wreck outside of town.”

“No, dear, you were not,” a NutraSweet female voice whispers in her ear. “You’re on the helipad at the hospital.”

“Tell her which hospital,” the man says, whispering. “Just keep to the script.”

“You’ve been flown to Walter Reed Medical Center at the request of the FBI. Everyone you came in contact with twice in the last two weeks has come here to help in your debriefing, hon.”

“But that wouldn’t make any sense!” she says. “Debriefing from what?” She tries to rise, but her body only elevates a couple of inches and then only from the neck downward. Without any warning, a pounding fist trounces against her breasts, pushing her hard against the gurney. The same closed hand launches an attack against the side of her nearly immobile face. She feels like a fish in a small goldfish bowl being blasted by a shotgun; she groans in excruciating pain. Tasting blood, she’s wondering if she bit the tip of her tongue off.

“She’ll never figure this out. This is too new, so relax,” the man says sharply. “If it makes you feel better, a friend of mine told me
that she’s not real bright.” From somewhere there’s a sigh of relief. “Besides, even if she does, who would ever believe her? She would just be committed, in which case, we would have her back.” There are a couple of giggles from a man and woman in the obscurity. “Here, give her…” Abigail can’t understand what he’s mumbling.

She hears something that sounds like paper ripping and smells the strong odor of alcohol. Not another shot! Her eyes become huge. For barely an instant, the light flashes on the nurse, and for the first time she’s able to see her face. The familiar-looking woman takes the cap from the needle she’s holding in her teeth and gives her an intravenous injection.

In a flash the injection begins to enter her bloodstream. For a few minutes she’s drawn into the strangeness of the dancing lights overhead; however, she feels nauseated and immediately begins projectile vomiting.

The woman standing next to the gurney jumps backward into space. “You fucking bitch!” Abby receives another closed-fisted punch to her jaw. Her mind reaches a state of finality as she closes her eyes and begins to pray silently.

In a dream-like trance she feels the gurney move in the direction of something. For only half a second in her delirium she envisions a window edged by streetlights.

The straps tighten suddenly when the gurney stops. She then begins moving quickly in the opposite direction. The windows to her soul snap shut in an effort to keep from puking. She lets loose with one long, horribly loud, piercing cry from someplace deep in the quintessence of her spirit before losing consciousness.