White Room
01
With each frantic blink he took, his pupils increased and decreased as they adjusted to the blinding glare from the lights around him. There were voices everywhere–in his head, next to him, behind him, in the other rooms; and he could faintly hear someone speaking through the phone that a nurse held up to her ear approximately five feet away.
He didn't remember what he was doing here. One minute he was drawing and then nurses and doctors came flooding in the room and escorted him out in handcuffs. Now he was in the main lobby of the second floor with a security guard standing next to him and one of his assigned nurses, Libby, filling out paperwork in his chart. As he waited, he looked around at the many people whirling around the room; faces he recognized, but he did not know the people they belonged to.
Libby briskly told the security guard that she would be right back, but before she walked away, David quickly stopped her.
"Wait, wait," he blurted frantically. "I-I didn't finish. You have to l-let me finish. I wasn't done. You're going to let me finish, right? You have to." His words were rushed and choppy; a perfect reflection of his scattered and disoriented thoughts.
Libby sighed pensively and shook her head slightly, looking from the ground to David and responding. "We'll talk about this later, David. I have to finish something up and then I'll be back, okay? You stay right here and behave yourself."
David started to protest, but Libby had already walked away and turned down the hall to the E Corridor. That's where the bad people went. David knew that. The ones who couldn't be near others. That's where they went. He didn't know why his nurse was going there, but he would ask her later.
David was diagnosed with ADHD as a child–a guess far off track. It wasn't until he
kidnapped a fellow classmate when he was merely eleven years old and tied her up in a vacant apartment building several blocks from his house that his parents realized he wasn't being treated correctly. He taped the girl's mouth and cut patterns into her skin with a broken piece of glass, later claiming that God had told him that he was an artist of prophecy and had to use Lana, his classmate, as a tool to spread his message.
David left Lana in the building overnight and returned to finish what he had started the next day. There had been police at the school that day, talking to Lana's friends and questioning teachers about her disappearance. David had no friends and had never socialized with Lana, so he was able to avoid interrogation.
He had neglected to return home after school, instead immediately making his way to the abandoned building that held his human canvas. His mother, getting worried that her son may have possibly been abducted just like Lana Ellics had been, called the police and they had managed to track him down.
David's birth father had left when he was at the tender age of three years old, leaving David and his mother, Bethany, alone. His mother had re-married just three years later, moving herself and David to the man's house in a different town. After discovering what David had done and the new diagnosis that had arose, Bethany's second husband, Alex, had demanded a divorce, kicking her and her son out of his house and refusing to have any contact with either of them.
Bethany then found herself in a poor financial situation and moved in with her sister after signing David into Chamberson Mental Asylum due to it being court ordered, and simply because she didn't know what else to do. She had visited David often after the fourteen days of evaluation and mandatory isolation from friends and family, speaking with his doctors and trying to understand as much as she could about her son's mental illness and what was being done to manage it.
David had been placed in individual therapy that strongly revolved around art. It enabled him to express his creative "messages" without harming himself or others. He was required to undergo intensive psychotherapy, including Cognitive Behavior Therapy. He was placed in group therapy after two years of residency at the asylum, when he was deemed stable enough to be in a setting with other patients. The doctor had prescribed him both chlorpromazine and ziprasidone, both for the treatment of schizophrenia. His mother had later surrendered custody to the facility when David turned thirteen, realizing that David would be there for a very long time and that they were better equipped to make decisions than she was.
David was now twenty years old and still residing at Chamberson Mental Asylum. Libby had been his nurse for the past seven years, and he preferred her over any other staff member. She had been assigned to him for that reason, as she was the one who could get him to cooperate without much resistance.
Libby was now making her way back into the Lobby, and David stuttered to himself about what he was going to ask her. She paused briefly to exchange a few words with a doctor and then calmly continued on her way over to where David stood anxiously with the security guard.
"Libby, Libby. Hey. I got a question. Why did you go down there? Where the bad people are? You don't go there. Hey." Now this is where he would have normally tugged on her sleeve, but given the current circumstances, he couldn't. He was still handcuffed.
"David, calm yourself. I told you I would be back. You ate dinner, didn't you? You ate like I told you to?" David looked at her blankly for a moment before nodding. "Good boy," she patted his shoulder, her entire body tense and her eyes wide with worry. Apprehensively, she turned her attention to the security guard. "Patrick," she began, "could you walk David down to Dr. Tibberman's office with me, please?"
The man, standing at 6'2, wasn't much for talking. In fact, he resembled those British guards who never move or speak. He gave a curt nod of his head and stepped forward, awaiting the movement of the patient beside him.
"Come on, David," Libby ushered pursuasively. "I'm going to take you to see someone new. Follow me, please. David, David, pay attention," she corrected as she noticed his eyes circulating around the busy room. David did what he was directed to do, following Libby and occasionally glancing nervously to the security guard, Patrick. His presence unnerved David. He didn't want him there. Why couldn't it just be Libby?
"Why... w-why are we going down here?" David sputtered suddenly. His head started jerking from left to right, alternating his gaze, and he soon came to a sudden stop in the middle of the E Corridor. The security guard, not expecting David's sporadic movements, attempted to push him forward, but that only resulted in a yelp that resounded down the long and narrow hall.
"Patrick, wait, no." Libby put her hand up and gestured to the security guard to cease his actions. "David, dear, you have to follow me. I know you don't want to be here, but you have to follow me. Come here, David. Come on, come to me. That's it. Come here." She lured him in with her words and her hand, guiding him down the long hallway, past the doors without windows. When they had nearly reached the end of the hallway, Libby stopped and knocked on a door on the right, the only one with a window, and waited for an okay. David heard the masculine voice that came from behind the closed door, and after Libby opened it, David stood and cautiously peered inside.
"Ah, David Havendale. Please, come have a seat." David hesitated and looked towards Libby, the woman who had become more of a mother to him than his actual mother.
"Go on, David. I'm coming in with you." She smiled softly and nodded her head in the direction of Dr. Tibberman. "Go on," she encouraged, until David finally took his steps into the unfamiliar office.
He didn't remember what he was doing here. One minute he was drawing and then nurses and doctors came flooding in the room and escorted him out in handcuffs. Now he was in the main lobby of the second floor with a security guard standing next to him and one of his assigned nurses, Libby, filling out paperwork in his chart. As he waited, he looked around at the many people whirling around the room; faces he recognized, but he did not know the people they belonged to.
Libby briskly told the security guard that she would be right back, but before she walked away, David quickly stopped her.
"Wait, wait," he blurted frantically. "I-I didn't finish. You have to l-let me finish. I wasn't done. You're going to let me finish, right? You have to." His words were rushed and choppy; a perfect reflection of his scattered and disoriented thoughts.
Libby sighed pensively and shook her head slightly, looking from the ground to David and responding. "We'll talk about this later, David. I have to finish something up and then I'll be back, okay? You stay right here and behave yourself."
David started to protest, but Libby had already walked away and turned down the hall to the E Corridor. That's where the bad people went. David knew that. The ones who couldn't be near others. That's where they went. He didn't know why his nurse was going there, but he would ask her later.
David was diagnosed with ADHD as a child–a guess far off track. It wasn't until he
kidnapped a fellow classmate when he was merely eleven years old and tied her up in a vacant apartment building several blocks from his house that his parents realized he wasn't being treated correctly. He taped the girl's mouth and cut patterns into her skin with a broken piece of glass, later claiming that God had told him that he was an artist of prophecy and had to use Lana, his classmate, as a tool to spread his message.
David left Lana in the building overnight and returned to finish what he had started the next day. There had been police at the school that day, talking to Lana's friends and questioning teachers about her disappearance. David had no friends and had never socialized with Lana, so he was able to avoid interrogation.
He had neglected to return home after school, instead immediately making his way to the abandoned building that held his human canvas. His mother, getting worried that her son may have possibly been abducted just like Lana Ellics had been, called the police and they had managed to track him down.
David's birth father had left when he was at the tender age of three years old, leaving David and his mother, Bethany, alone. His mother had re-married just three years later, moving herself and David to the man's house in a different town. After discovering what David had done and the new diagnosis that had arose, Bethany's second husband, Alex, had demanded a divorce, kicking her and her son out of his house and refusing to have any contact with either of them.
Bethany then found herself in a poor financial situation and moved in with her sister after signing David into Chamberson Mental Asylum due to it being court ordered, and simply because she didn't know what else to do. She had visited David often after the fourteen days of evaluation and mandatory isolation from friends and family, speaking with his doctors and trying to understand as much as she could about her son's mental illness and what was being done to manage it.
David had been placed in individual therapy that strongly revolved around art. It enabled him to express his creative "messages" without harming himself or others. He was required to undergo intensive psychotherapy, including Cognitive Behavior Therapy. He was placed in group therapy after two years of residency at the asylum, when he was deemed stable enough to be in a setting with other patients. The doctor had prescribed him both chlorpromazine and ziprasidone, both for the treatment of schizophrenia. His mother had later surrendered custody to the facility when David turned thirteen, realizing that David would be there for a very long time and that they were better equipped to make decisions than she was.
David was now twenty years old and still residing at Chamberson Mental Asylum. Libby had been his nurse for the past seven years, and he preferred her over any other staff member. She had been assigned to him for that reason, as she was the one who could get him to cooperate without much resistance.
Libby was now making her way back into the Lobby, and David stuttered to himself about what he was going to ask her. She paused briefly to exchange a few words with a doctor and then calmly continued on her way over to where David stood anxiously with the security guard.
"Libby, Libby. Hey. I got a question. Why did you go down there? Where the bad people are? You don't go there. Hey." Now this is where he would have normally tugged on her sleeve, but given the current circumstances, he couldn't. He was still handcuffed.
"David, calm yourself. I told you I would be back. You ate dinner, didn't you? You ate like I told you to?" David looked at her blankly for a moment before nodding. "Good boy," she patted his shoulder, her entire body tense and her eyes wide with worry. Apprehensively, she turned her attention to the security guard. "Patrick," she began, "could you walk David down to Dr. Tibberman's office with me, please?"
The man, standing at 6'2, wasn't much for talking. In fact, he resembled those British guards who never move or speak. He gave a curt nod of his head and stepped forward, awaiting the movement of the patient beside him.
"Come on, David," Libby ushered pursuasively. "I'm going to take you to see someone new. Follow me, please. David, David, pay attention," she corrected as she noticed his eyes circulating around the busy room. David did what he was directed to do, following Libby and occasionally glancing nervously to the security guard, Patrick. His presence unnerved David. He didn't want him there. Why couldn't it just be Libby?
"Why... w-why are we going down here?" David sputtered suddenly. His head started jerking from left to right, alternating his gaze, and he soon came to a sudden stop in the middle of the E Corridor. The security guard, not expecting David's sporadic movements, attempted to push him forward, but that only resulted in a yelp that resounded down the long and narrow hall.
"Patrick, wait, no." Libby put her hand up and gestured to the security guard to cease his actions. "David, dear, you have to follow me. I know you don't want to be here, but you have to follow me. Come here, David. Come on, come to me. That's it. Come here." She lured him in with her words and her hand, guiding him down the long hallway, past the doors without windows. When they had nearly reached the end of the hallway, Libby stopped and knocked on a door on the right, the only one with a window, and waited for an okay. David heard the masculine voice that came from behind the closed door, and after Libby opened it, David stood and cautiously peered inside.
"Ah, David Havendale. Please, come have a seat." David hesitated and looked towards Libby, the woman who had become more of a mother to him than his actual mother.
"Go on, David. I'm coming in with you." She smiled softly and nodded her head in the direction of Dr. Tibberman. "Go on," she encouraged, until David finally took his steps into the unfamiliar office.