Placebo Effect

The lights flickered, dangling dangerously from a wire from the ceiling over the dark room. Below the light lay a young man, unconscious and unmoving. He was an average man in his thirties; just another face in the crowd.

A single clock ticked loudly, echoing through the room as the man lay still. The clock ticked, heavy with each coming second.

The man shifted, a low moan escaping his throat as his eyes slowly fluttered open. The light flickered above him, blinding him as he tried to open his tired eyes. When he tried to sit up to escape the light’s glare, he became alert as restraints held tight to his body. He urged his eyes towards his arms, horrified when he found leather straps restricting him to a cold metal table.

Alarmed, he looked around him, seeking an escape. When he saw where he was, he cowered. All around him, he saw black painted brick walls, matching the smooth floor tiles. The room was very dull and only had a large mirror that took the place of a full wall.

The mirror was grim, foggy and dull. The surface did not look smooth, nor did it look sturdy. The hinges were crooked and were barely hanging onto the nails. Chips of the frame feel to the floor as the man struggled desperately to get out of his restraints. He screamed and screamed, calling out for help.

He man stopped when he heard a door open. He quickly brought his attention to a short, stout man in a white lab coat. He wore thick rimmed glasses and combed his thin, greasy hair to one side of his round head. His face was set in a stern frown.

Behind him followed a tall woman. She was hideous. Her hair was cut unevenly in series of short and long clumps and they tangled into masses of nests. Behind heavy, cat rimmed glasses were reddened eyes outlined with heavy eyeliner and dark eye shadow, making her eyes look as if they had been badly beaten. Her teeth were crooked and rotten, making the man on the table grimace when she smiled at him.

The man begged the stout man to free him, looking from the woman to the stout man as they ignored his pleas. The stout man carried a clipboard while the woman rolled a small table behind her into the room. On the table was a tray of thick needles. The man strapped to the tables watched them in horror.

“Nurse Iana, please set the cart by the table,” the man demanded harshly.

“Yes, Dr. Trow,” the nurse responded plainly. Motioning for the nurse to lean closer, he whispered quietly into her ear and pointed to the man before pulling away.

“Subject D-11495215 – male, and thirty five. Under trial of 1612125215,” the doctor read from the clipboard.

The man looked from the doctor to the nurse, bewildered and confused.

“Let me go!” the man begged, trying to push off the table.

The doctor and nurse only looked at him briefly before returning to the clipboard. .

After what seemed like hours of whispering and quick glances between the doctor and nurse. Finally, the doctor turned to the man at the table, taking a syringe and a bottle of clear liquid from the tray. Filling up the syringe, he turned to the nurse and instructed her to write something down.

“Substance A, twenty five millimeters,” the doctor told the nurse. The nurse nodded and noted something down on the clipboard.

The doctor got closer to the man, who was now hysterically screaming.

“What is that? Why are you – No, don’t!” the man pleaded frantically as the doctor poked his arm.

“Don’t worry. It’ll only be a little pinch,” the doctor said, smiling sarcastically.

“No, what is it? What the hell are you putting in me?” the man shrieked loudly as the needle went deeper into his flesh.

“Iana, get me thirty millimeters of Substance B.” the doctor ignored the man’s cries as he injected another needle into the man’s arm.

The man pleaded the doctor as he pulled away from the needle, tears streaming down his cheeks as the straps pulled at his skin. The doctor held down his arm, his strength unmatching to his small size. The man cried out as the needle plunged into his arm, feeling his body burn as the liquid flowed through his veins.

Was it the substance being injected in him? What were they doing to him? He did not know as his mind swirled wildly.

The doctor said something to the nurse but the man could not make out the words clearly.

When his mind finally came to, the doctor and nurse had already left and he was no longer in his restraints. Instead, he was now chained by the neck like a dog to the middle of the room where the table had been before.

At first he was weary, dizzy and confused. As his mind became clearer, he looked around him, frantic to remember where he was and what had happened. He noticed that there was no window, no door, and no form of escape. He was trapped in a room of darkness.

He stood up, determined to find a crack of some sort to escape from. The chains were heavy, making him struggle as he stood on his feet. He winced as the shackles pinched his neck.

“Hello?” he called out. “Hello, will someone let me out?” he tried. There was no answer.

Confused, the man went around the room, the shackles occasionally pulling at the skin on his neck. He pulled the heavy chains behind him, trudging as the weight pulled him back.
When he found nothing, he went back to the middle of the room and sat down, pondering what was happening to him and how he should escape.

Hours seemed to pass, silence echoing through his ears. The chains grew heavier, pinching his neck, making him winced at the pain each time. His throat became tight, the shackles shrinking around his neck. His breathing became deep as he scratched at the brace, running his nails down the smooth metal. He tried to dig his fingers under the metal, scraping the skin from his neck as he pulled at the brace. Blood dripped under the metal, soaking the tips of his fingers as he fought with the shackles.

Tears filled his eyes as he became frustrated and trapped. The taste of blood rose to his mouth, choking him as the metallic taste grew stronger. Frantic, he scraped at the metal, crying out for air as he fought desperately.

His eyes blurred, his mind growing heavy. Darkness took over him as he fought for air. Slowly, he fell over, his hands clinging to his neck at a final attempt for air.

†

The lights flickered, silence echoing through the empty room. The man’s eyes wavered, opening as he came into consciousness.

He reached to his neck, wincing as he felt the wounds around his neck. The chains were gone and he was able to breathe again. He took a big breath in, cherishing the freedom he felt. The air went down cruelly, making the man choke as he gasped for air. He held his chest as he looked around.

“Hello? I know you can hear me! Please just let me go!” he pleaded, his voice still raspy and harsh. Still there was silence. The man sighed before dragging himself to a wall behind him.

He sat back, leaning his head back on the cool bricks. He closed his eyes and breathed. He breathed heavily at first, still unable to find a good pace but then he regained his composure, drifting between slumber and thought.

Suddenly, his breathing became dry, the air sticking to his lungs. The man got up and scanned the room. He searched for water, his throat going drier as he looked around. There was no sign of water and soon the man was growing frantic.

Staggering, the man stood up. He trudged around the room, his feet becoming heavy, desperate to quench his thirst. His breathing grew gruff, his anxiety growing.

“Water, please!” he struggled through dry breaths. He looked to the ceiling, scanning the black wall above him. “I know you’re watching! Listen to me!” he demanded urgently.

Angrily, he clawed at the walls, kicking and punching as he cried out for water.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of water falling. It was quiet at first – a light pattering of small droplets – but then it grew loudly, like it was get closer. As the water got closer, the noise became thunderous. Anxious and desperate, the man got up and searched for the water. The sound grew louder, the water pouring down hard.

The man covered his ears, still in search for something to quench his thirst. The sound mocked him, telling him that he could never find it. the noise became too loud to bear, laughing at the man’s misery as he ran around the room, still in search of the water with no success.

The man fell to his knees, his hands to his ears as he shrieked out in pain. He begged for the water to quench his thirst, agonizing as the sound of the water taunted him. He dug his nails into his ears, his ears tearing as the skin turned into a bloody mess. He tugged at his hair, yelping at the pain of the water penetrating through his hands. He pulled at his hair, ripping out clumps with each howl.

Suddenly, the water was gone and silence took over immediately. The water was gone. The man cautiously, removed his hands away from his face, tears streaking down his once tan face. His breathing was all that he could hear; everything still and dark.

The man sat trembling, too afraid to move. The silence was growing heavy; the tension was suffocating. He felt alone, dead to the world. The silence became static, a small buzzing that filled the room. Slowly the buzzing rose, becoming a loud hum as it grew more intensifying. He felt trapped in the silence as it wrapped around him, but he could not seem to make a sound, as if a large snake had wrapped itself around him. The air weighed his voice down, overpowering him under its pressure.

He screamed, the sound forming no words. The silence returned, blanketing his sounds. Again he howled, the sound piercing the static, each time the silence overtaking him, growing louder with each yelp. Again and again he pierced the silence with his dagger, his cries becoming habitual.

He stood up and jumped around, the echoes of his feet heavenly.

“This can’t last forever. It’ll win,” a quiet voice mocked. The voice chuckled, snickering at his foolishness.

“Who are you? Where are you!” the man exclaimed frightened. The laughs grew distant as the man screamed at the voices, demanding that they leave him alone.

The man continued to scream and shout as he pounded on the walls, terrified by the unknown voices. His knuckles grew red with each hit, creating small red droplets of blood as he punched the walls angrily.

The black wall was soon stained by his blood, unseen in its darkness. The man’s voice had gone hoarse as he continued to whimper loudly, his screams melting into an air of nothing.

Unable to continue hitting and screaming, the man fell to his hands and knees and crawled to a wall as he cradled his wounds, whispering nonsense to himself. He could not push the voices away as they whispered loudly around him. Silently he begged for them to go away, and to leave him alone.

A soft, angelic laugh entered the room, making the man look up in surprise to the sudden entrance. Before him was a beautiful woman. She was pale and had a heart shaped face. She was slender and small. Her hair was jet black and her eyes a light gray. She wore a white silk dress that flowed past her feet, dragged behind her as she lay on the floor staring up at him. With a closer inspection, the man could see that she was drenched. She lay on the floor, her face tilted up awkwardly toward him, her eyes peering into his. Her mouth was hanging agape, stretched slightly into a thin malicious smile letting out low chuckles.

The chuckles got louder as the girl crawled closer to him, her face ghastly as her chuckles turned into maniacal laughter.

The man bellowed out in horror, pushing back into the wall as far as he could, as he demanded that the woman get away from him. The woman continued towards him.

Terrified, he closed his eyes, not wanting to see such a horrible creature but when he closed his eyes to surround himself in his darkness, the woman’s image appeared. Her eyes grew wide and her teeth sharp. Her face became deathly as her eyes rolled back and lips went purple, laughs escaping her as if she enjoyed the feeling of death take over her; as if she enjoyed the man’s horror.

“No!” the man exclaimed, slashing at the image in his eyes.

Red tears dripped down his face as his nails dug deep into his eye sockets, ripping apart the woman who sat coolly in his eye sight. Her laughing continued, raging through his ears as he clawed and ripped at his eyes viciously.

“Die! You’re going to kill yourself, so die!” the voice sang joyfully.

“No, get away!” the man retorted wickedly, frightened by the sounds of thumping and crashing as the voice thundered about.

His voice became shrill and hoarse as he screamed, the metallic taste returning to his mouth as blood and tears streaked his pale, wounded cheeks.

“Look at yourself! Look!” the voice demanded.

Terrified, the man obeyed. Slowly, he stood up, staggering as he trudged to the mirror.

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” the mocked as the man fell back on his elbows.

The man was horrified, speechless at what he was seeing in the mirror before him. Hesitantly, he crawled back to the mirror, bewildered by what he saw. He touched the rough surface; cool to his touch as he examined his image.

He was bruised and wounded. His hair was matted and drenched with sweat, reduced to large patches that scabbed where his nails had scrapped off much of his skin. His eyes were almost swollen shut, red and wet with his blood and tears. His eyelids were gone, gouged out leaving hollow eyes and a scabby mess.

Slowly and hesitantly, he stood up to his feet, afraid of what his body now looked like. He let out a low cry as he saw what his body had reduced to. The first thing he noticed as he moved from his face down was his neck. His neck looked horrible. Chunks of flesh hung loosely, dried scabs clinging to the wounds to keep them from dropping off.

He reached up to his throat, terrified and bewildered by the wounds. When he saw his hands, he could not help but cry out. His hands were purple with bruises. Dry blood covered his fists, his skin looking like a wrinkled mess. His nails were broken and many were missing. His knuckles were split and many of his fingers were bent in odd ways.

The man had to look away in shame; frightened by what he saw but when he looked down, his heart dropped. His body was extremely emaciated. He had become a bag of bones. His skin was ashen, dry and wrinkled. There were many bruises on him and stains of blood. His dark skin had gone pale – almost translucent. He was disgusted by his body.

“H – How long,” he muttered, shocked at the sight before him. The small voice cackled.

“How long?” it mocked. “How long?” it repeated quietly in his ear, echoing loudly.

“Shut up!” he demanded, pushing himself away from the mirror.

The voice continued.

“Stop!” he exclaimed. Angrily, he whipped around. He marched around the room, searching for the voice.

“Come find me,” the voice teased.

“Come out!” he demanded. The room was empty and the voice drifted like mist, surrounding him like a blanket. Desperate, he ran around the room.

Something moved in the corner of his eye. He whipped around and dashed toward what he thought was a shadow, ready to punch whatever was there. He struck the wall, his knuckles giving off a loud crack. The figure dashed behind him, making him turn on his heels and run to the opposite side, again striking nothing, making his hand give off another crack and a gush of blood.

The shadow spun around him as he ran around the room, coming into contact with nothing each time.

Suddenly, as he dashed for the shadow behind him, he tripped, staggered and fell to his knees. His vision went blurry and his strength escaped him, leaving him immobile.

“Come out,” he breathed out hoarsely. “Come out already,” he repeated tiredly.

The voice cackled.

“Shut up! Just shut up!” he wailed. “Just shut u –,” he begged, his words cut off by a sudden blackness.

He lay motionless as the voice disappeared.

†

“Subject D-11495215, under trial 1612125215, trial success,” a deep voice said monotonously.