Beyond Salvation

I awoke to the cloying stench of sanitizer and the wailing of my mother.

"Cassius... What have you done?"

Head pounding, the fluorescent lighting blinded my eyes.

Gradually, the blurry hospital room came into focus as realization sank in. Did I get into a car accident? Thinking back to last night, the events weren't anything out of the ordinary.

Blinking groggily, I stared dizzily at the people surrounding my bed.

It seemed my entire family was there, something I never expected to see. Most of them hated each other; swearing to never be in the same room, yet here they all were.

Everyone was facing me, wearing a variety of grim expressions.

This frightened me far more than being hospitalized.

"Why... is everyone here?" I coughed out.

My oldest brother spoke, his voice cold with disappointment.

"You have a problem, Cass. We didn't know how bad it was, but now we are here to stop this once and for all."

I couldn't meet his eyes, refusing to endure the crushing weight of that gaze.

The growing tension was broken once the doctor arrived. She paused, reading the heavy atmosphere.

"Is this a bad time?"

Shaking his head, my brother motioned for her to enter.

"Not at all. Please come in, we would like to know what we're dealing with here."

Reading her chart, the doctor chose her words carefully as everyone huddled around her.

"It seems that he suffers from an extremely rare eating disorder. We have him restrained for the time being and administered a mild sedative."

My father asked something in a hushed tone. I pricked my ears, trying in vain to hear the response.

"... not equipped to deal with... advise outpatient treatment..."

I struggled weakly against the restraints. This was all just a horrible joke, right?

When everyone returned with humorless faces, I felt a sinking sensation deep in my gut.

* * * * *

"Welcome to Saint Aquinas Hospital." A nun beamed at me from behind her veil. She was wearing a white habit with a black cowl, embroidered with the symbol of her order.

I glared at my brother. Evan knew I was an atheist; this must have been his twisted sense of humor.

"Did you pick this one out?" I growled at Evan, struggling against the straitjacket. He smirked, shaking his head. "Dad wanted this, his exact words being 'Cassius needs help, in body AND in soul.'"

He filled out the paperwork as I sulked in my wheelchair.

"Sister Melissa, can you take Mr. Lenzer to his room?" I looked up to see the receptionist talking to another veiled woman. Sister Melissa wore a plain habit with no decorations.

"Certainly, Mother Superior."

Evan clapped me on the shoulder, whispering in my ear.

"May God have mercy on your soul."

The checkered hallway echoed with his gloating laugh as the nun pushed me to my fate.

"And how are you feeling today, Mr. Lenzer?" she asked me brightly.

Slumping in the seat with a scowl, I grumbled back. "Just peachy."

Wriggling against my restraints, I sighed. "Is the straightjacket really necessary?"

She smiled and nodded. "It's just a precaution until your initial evaluation. Some of the cases we see are quite severe!"

We turned right and made our way to the elevator. I groaned as the cheery nun burbled on about how lovely it was here and how most patients made a full recovery. At least she wasn't praying over me.

I shuddered at the thought of church, perhaps they forced patients to attend daily mass. Would that be considered a form of therapy?

Opening my mouth, I considered asking but was afraid of what the answer might be.

The elevator opened, revealing a new floor with a sickly yellow color.

Sister Melissa wheeled me past several rooms as I watched my fellow invalids with curiosity. A young woman in a filthy straitjacket screeched as she thrashed in her bed.

A nun sat by the bed, reading the bible. Ignoring the shrieking patient, the woman calmly turned a page.

"How can she read through that?" I asked Sister Melissa.

She shrugged. "Sister Elizabeth volunteers to observe her every day. This is her cross to bear."

I looked into another room, this one was empty but the walls were scarred and patchy. "What happened here?"

The nun sighed at my inquiry. "We had to transfer this one to intensive therapy. He was suffering from pica."

This only raised further questions. After some pestering she informed me that pica wasn't any kind of disease. "It's a mental disorder, involving a compulsion to eat things like clay, dirt or other non-food items. This particular case liked to eat paint chips."

I grimaced in disgust. Who would want to eat dry paint?

We rolled by a morbidly obese man, wheezing as he waddled down the yellow hallway. Behind him, a nun gave words of encouragement. "Come on, just a little farther Mr. Richards! You can do it!"

He whined pitifully. "I'm so hungry; I'm starting to feel faint."

When we were out of earshot, I asked Sister Melissa about his case.

"Praeder-Willi syndrome. He can't help himself from eating, poor thing."

Stopping suddenly, she pointed towards the door to room 27. "This will be where you stay for the time being."

It was very bright, very clean and very... empty. Nothing covered the bare walls except for a small wooden crucifix. There was no TV, no pictures, not even a window to stare out of. To me, it looked like a religious jail cell.

Perhaps it was.

Shortly after Sister Melissa left, a male orderly came to take me for evaluation.

The psychiatrist was an older man, with a neatly trimmed beard. I narrowed my eyes at him. He snorted at my distrust.

"We don't have time for any games today, Mr. Lenzer. I believe you know why you have been transferred to our facility."

My nose itched. I struggled in the jacket, trying to scratch it.

"MR. LENZER." His voice boomed, startling me.

Pleased that he had my attention, the doctor cleared his throat. "My name is Doctor Hiannes. I specialize in unique cases such as yours."

He flipped open the manila folder and read me the diagnosis.

"Acute autophagia. Very rare and very interesting..."

I squirmed in the wheelchair, irritated at the uncomfortable position. Dr. Hiannes looked up from the papers and smiled.

"Uncomfortable? Why don't we loosen those bindings and see what we are dealing with?"

The custodian behind me unclipped the straps as I sighed in relief. He popped open the buttons and helped me out of the sleeves. I winced at the pain.

My hands were missing several fingers, deep bite marks scoring the flesh around my palms. Patches of bloody gauze decorated my arms, hiding where I tore out chunks of skin.

I wiggled the stubs I had left, feeling a familiar hunger growing. Maybe I could use my teeth to rip off the bandages and lick the oozing wounds...

Seeing the look in my eyes, Dr. Hiannes snapped an order to the man behind me, strapping my arms out of reach.
"This will be the last time we give you free use of your limbs. Mr. Lenzer, you are a danger to yourself, whether you see it that way or not." His voice droned on as I dreamed about slicing off pieces of me.

It all started with my fingernails, but when I bit them to the tender meat I couldn't help myself. It was like biting into a crunchy carrot, one that burst with savory juices.

I scarcely felt the pain. Ecstasy washed over me as I moaned with each mouthful.

But one finger was hardly enough. I had to restrain my teeth from consuming the other four. Patience, I thought. You only have so many, better make them count.

But the whispering urges came when I was at work, forcing me to hide in the bathroom as I gnawed the sinewy flesh from my thumb.

"What possesses you to mutilate your body? Is there a reason why you need to consume yourself?" Dr. Hiannes interrupted my reverie. I blinked, returning to the present.

The attendant wiped the drool from my mouth as the psychiatrist repeated the questions.

I thought about answering him, but they called out to me. The voices faintly drifted into my mind, singing a song of desire. Quietly, they stirred a ravenous need within, a yearning appetite that I was powerless to fight against.

"Well?" Dr. Hiannes frowned at me, irritated at my silence. "We will get answers out of you eventually." I almost felt sorry for him. His job was about to become a lot harder.

Grinning defiantly, I chomped down on my tongue.

The dark pleasure tickled my brain as the room filled with frantic shouting.

It felt quite surreal, chewing on my own taste buds.

The custodians tried their best, but I managed to swallow my pride.

It had no flavor at all.