The Hospital
Treatment/End
I awoke later to the sound of the door opening and closing. Unwilling to open my eyes and show that I was indeed awake, I lay perfectly still on the bed and waited for the intruder to make his or her presence known.
Things were silent for a moment or two and I had a feeling that the person in my room was watching me closely as if to wait for something, and then I felt a sharp tug on my hair that jerked me “awake”.
“Wake up!” was the shrill order, and when I sat up I saw that it was Mrs. Massingale, her hands on her hips, glaring down at me.
“I’m awake, I’m awake.” I said hoarsely, rubbing my eyes and sliding out of the bed, wincing at the chill of the cold, white linoleum against my bare feet. I felt tired and gross from not having a shower since the morning before, but Ms. Massingale didn’t seem to care; she took hold of my arm and began pulling me out of the room and down the hallway.
“Where are we going?” I asked quietly, biting back a shout as the nurse’s thick fingers tightened around my forearm. I thought of her muscles expand and contract underneath her skin and gave a silent sigh, one that fortunately went unnoticed by Ms. Massingale.
She steered me down a smaller hallway coming off of the one by my room. This hall was darker, with only two swinging lights hanging from the ceiling. Somewhere a little way away from us, a strangled scream cut its way through the air, causing the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck to stand straight up. With a dry swallow, I asked her again where it was that we were going, and this time I got my answer.
“Treatment.” Ms. Massingale grunted, stopping to unlock a door and shoving me inside of a room. This room was the largest I’d seen so far, but the darkest; a naked bulb being the only source of light to be seen.
Though the room was dark, I could see quite a lot. In the middle, directly under the illumination, was a dentist’s chair. A number of instruments were strung up along the walls, varying from scalpels and probes to stranger things, such as monkey wrenches and meat cleavers.
I turned to Ms. Massingale who stood glaring expectantly at me. Fairly certain of what she was wanting me to do, I stepped forward and cautiously sat down on the edge of the chair. As soon as I had sat the large woman came toward me and pulled big black straps down over my hands and around my ankles, tightening them after I tried to resist. The circulation successfully cut off from my hands and feet, Ms. Massingale began pacing the room, examining the tools on the walls and seemingly deciding which one she felt like using. I sat patiently, on edge, the blood coursing through my veins faster than it ever had before.
Minutes later, Ms. Massingale retrieved the instrument she’d decided upon and stepped into the light of the bulb, a pair of pliers in her hand. The silvery metal of the pliers glinted with a sticky red substance that I was certain was blood. Out of nowhere she was standing right over me, reaching out to yank my head back by my hair. I opened my mouth to protest, but that seemed to be just was she was waiting for, because when I did she pounced, pulling one final strap around my forehead and using one hand to hold my mouth open, she gripped the pliers tightly in her other hand and began to pull out my teeth, one by one.
I heard my shrieks as if I were sitting in a tin can, the ringing in my ears muffling all sound, but through it all I could hear Ms. Massingale talking to me.
“Your teeth are the problem, aren’t they, Charlotte? It’s why you’re here. Your parents found out about what you were doing, the police figured it out, too. All those missing people, Charlotte, and not a single body recovered for almost a year. Not until your mom found a bone in your closet. And then she put the pieces to the puzzle, she did. Why doesn’t Charlotte eat meat, when she’s been living with meat eaters her whole life, and enjoying it herself? What made her change her mind? You found something better, something that tastes nothing like you’ve ever tasted in your entire life, and you knew there was no going back to the old eating habits. You filthy cannibal.” With every sentence I felt her close the pliers around one of my teeth, twist sharply, and then remove it. The woman’s figure began to swim in front of my eyes. Her already muffled voice became distorted, to the point where she didn’t even sound human anymore. My breath started to be labored, and I could feel blood trickling down my throat with every gasp for air.
Moments later I vaguely felt the straps around my body loosen, and I was pulled from the chair and placed upon a cool metal surface, where I was then pushed out into the hallway again. I saw the swinging lights pass by in front of my eyes growing ever dimmer, and soon the whole world went black.
I could taste something in my mouth. It was sticky and metallic, but not at all unpleasant, and when I attempted to lick my lips I discovered that my entire mouth was full of blood. My mouth felt empty, and upon further investigation I found that the spaces where my teeth had once been were now just small holes in my head.
I opened my eyes slowly and cringed at the harsh light that assaulted me. I could hear murmurs all around me, but couldn’t make out any of the words. When I tried to sit up, hands pulled me back down. I could feel myself being moved off of whatever hard surface I’d been on before and placed on a wooden plank. I heard a crackling to the left of me and turned my head to see what it was. I saw a large whole in a wall, with spikes of orange and yellow moved rapidly inside of it.
Heat was pouring off of the wall, and I hoped that I would be moved again soon, farther away from the heat. But to my misfortune I was pushed closer and closer, until I thought the heat would melt the skin from my body, and as I realized what was going on, I was engulfed in it.
The phone rang loudly in the lobby of the Villagecreek Mental Institution. The secretary picked it up dutifully and answered with a cheery “Villagecreek Mental Institution, this is Deborah.” On the other end, a ragged sounding female voice replied,
“Yes, this is Connie Castleton; I’m calling to see if my family can visit my daughter Charlotte? We brought her out only a few weeks ago.”
“Um, okay, I’ll look through my records to see when she is available for visiting.” Deborah turned in her chair toward her computer and typed in Charlotte’s name. The record that showed up said that Charlotte Castleton was only sixteen years old, convicted of cannibalism. Wincing, the lady scrolled down to find the visitation hours, but saw at the bottom of her screen in red letters, the words “Treated; recycled.”
Things were silent for a moment or two and I had a feeling that the person in my room was watching me closely as if to wait for something, and then I felt a sharp tug on my hair that jerked me “awake”.
“Wake up!” was the shrill order, and when I sat up I saw that it was Mrs. Massingale, her hands on her hips, glaring down at me.
“I’m awake, I’m awake.” I said hoarsely, rubbing my eyes and sliding out of the bed, wincing at the chill of the cold, white linoleum against my bare feet. I felt tired and gross from not having a shower since the morning before, but Ms. Massingale didn’t seem to care; she took hold of my arm and began pulling me out of the room and down the hallway.
“Where are we going?” I asked quietly, biting back a shout as the nurse’s thick fingers tightened around my forearm. I thought of her muscles expand and contract underneath her skin and gave a silent sigh, one that fortunately went unnoticed by Ms. Massingale.
She steered me down a smaller hallway coming off of the one by my room. This hall was darker, with only two swinging lights hanging from the ceiling. Somewhere a little way away from us, a strangled scream cut its way through the air, causing the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck to stand straight up. With a dry swallow, I asked her again where it was that we were going, and this time I got my answer.
“Treatment.” Ms. Massingale grunted, stopping to unlock a door and shoving me inside of a room. This room was the largest I’d seen so far, but the darkest; a naked bulb being the only source of light to be seen.
Though the room was dark, I could see quite a lot. In the middle, directly under the illumination, was a dentist’s chair. A number of instruments were strung up along the walls, varying from scalpels and probes to stranger things, such as monkey wrenches and meat cleavers.
I turned to Ms. Massingale who stood glaring expectantly at me. Fairly certain of what she was wanting me to do, I stepped forward and cautiously sat down on the edge of the chair. As soon as I had sat the large woman came toward me and pulled big black straps down over my hands and around my ankles, tightening them after I tried to resist. The circulation successfully cut off from my hands and feet, Ms. Massingale began pacing the room, examining the tools on the walls and seemingly deciding which one she felt like using. I sat patiently, on edge, the blood coursing through my veins faster than it ever had before.
Minutes later, Ms. Massingale retrieved the instrument she’d decided upon and stepped into the light of the bulb, a pair of pliers in her hand. The silvery metal of the pliers glinted with a sticky red substance that I was certain was blood. Out of nowhere she was standing right over me, reaching out to yank my head back by my hair. I opened my mouth to protest, but that seemed to be just was she was waiting for, because when I did she pounced, pulling one final strap around my forehead and using one hand to hold my mouth open, she gripped the pliers tightly in her other hand and began to pull out my teeth, one by one.
I heard my shrieks as if I were sitting in a tin can, the ringing in my ears muffling all sound, but through it all I could hear Ms. Massingale talking to me.
“Your teeth are the problem, aren’t they, Charlotte? It’s why you’re here. Your parents found out about what you were doing, the police figured it out, too. All those missing people, Charlotte, and not a single body recovered for almost a year. Not until your mom found a bone in your closet. And then she put the pieces to the puzzle, she did. Why doesn’t Charlotte eat meat, when she’s been living with meat eaters her whole life, and enjoying it herself? What made her change her mind? You found something better, something that tastes nothing like you’ve ever tasted in your entire life, and you knew there was no going back to the old eating habits. You filthy cannibal.” With every sentence I felt her close the pliers around one of my teeth, twist sharply, and then remove it. The woman’s figure began to swim in front of my eyes. Her already muffled voice became distorted, to the point where she didn’t even sound human anymore. My breath started to be labored, and I could feel blood trickling down my throat with every gasp for air.
Moments later I vaguely felt the straps around my body loosen, and I was pulled from the chair and placed upon a cool metal surface, where I was then pushed out into the hallway again. I saw the swinging lights pass by in front of my eyes growing ever dimmer, and soon the whole world went black.
I could taste something in my mouth. It was sticky and metallic, but not at all unpleasant, and when I attempted to lick my lips I discovered that my entire mouth was full of blood. My mouth felt empty, and upon further investigation I found that the spaces where my teeth had once been were now just small holes in my head.
I opened my eyes slowly and cringed at the harsh light that assaulted me. I could hear murmurs all around me, but couldn’t make out any of the words. When I tried to sit up, hands pulled me back down. I could feel myself being moved off of whatever hard surface I’d been on before and placed on a wooden plank. I heard a crackling to the left of me and turned my head to see what it was. I saw a large whole in a wall, with spikes of orange and yellow moved rapidly inside of it.
Heat was pouring off of the wall, and I hoped that I would be moved again soon, farther away from the heat. But to my misfortune I was pushed closer and closer, until I thought the heat would melt the skin from my body, and as I realized what was going on, I was engulfed in it.
----
The phone rang loudly in the lobby of the Villagecreek Mental Institution. The secretary picked it up dutifully and answered with a cheery “Villagecreek Mental Institution, this is Deborah.” On the other end, a ragged sounding female voice replied,
“Yes, this is Connie Castleton; I’m calling to see if my family can visit my daughter Charlotte? We brought her out only a few weeks ago.”
“Um, okay, I’ll look through my records to see when she is available for visiting.” Deborah turned in her chair toward her computer and typed in Charlotte’s name. The record that showed up said that Charlotte Castleton was only sixteen years old, convicted of cannibalism. Wincing, the lady scrolled down to find the visitation hours, but saw at the bottom of her screen in red letters, the words “Treated; recycled.”