Dream On

“What do I do to ignore them behind me?

Do I follow my instincts blindly?

Do I hide my pride from these bad dreams,

And give in to sad thoughts that are maddening?”

~ Linkin Park ‘By Myself’

Chapter Two

It’s times like this when I need a notebook the most. I need something to write with and on and I need it quick. At times like this, when all these intelligent thoughts are floating around in my poor little drugged head and I’m strapped to a table. Oh Lord, where are you now?

"Come on Mulder. Take your pills."

A cruel hand forces my mouth open and then forces water after it. I choke briefly, wondering what I’ve done to deserve this. I haven’t done anything! I did not try to kill myself. They did. And if I don’t get out of here and away from these stupid people, they will succeed where they had failed before.

"That’s a good little girl. Just take your medication and be still and silent. Nothing like being so tired you can’t move is there?" The orderly jeers down at my half naked body.

I spit in his face. "Fuck off fat-ass. I’ll never be still, or silent!" To emphasize my point, I writhe hopelessly under the restraints. He wipes the spittle off of his chin and glares down at me. I can see anger and fury in his eyes. He’ll beat me; lik like he did the last time I spit at him. Just like every other time.

But, he doesn’t. My wonderful psychiatrist has come in to the room for my daily talking. The stupid bitch has no idea who she’s messing with. "Hello Cassia. How are you today?"

"I’d be a whole hell of a lot better if I didn’t have more drugs in me than a pharmacy, and you know that. Id yod you I don’t like these stupid ‘stimulants’ and ‘depressants’."

"And why is that Cassia?"

"Because, when you stupid fucked up people shove that shit in my veins and down my throat, I become that much more stupid and that much less able to defend myself when . . . they come." She slowly unfastens one wrist and then another from the table. I watch her with the eyes of a hawk.

"Again, they come up. When are you going to tell me about ‘them’ Cassie?"

"Wouldn’t it be a little pointless to tell you about them when you’re one of them yourself?"

"We can’t trust each other like this. Why can’t you see that? Why won’t you let me help you?" She unfastens my legs now, the motions familiar after the few short days that I have been here. I sit up, and stand.

"Because, I don’t need your help." She sighs and drops the conversation, turning from me to the orderly, telling him to take me into the main room.

"I think it’s time for her to interact with the other patients, don’t you?" In surprise, I watch the big man come towards me and the large jeer on his face. I haven’t been out of this white, sterile room in five days. And now, I'm being given basic freedom.

The world in the hospital seems brighter as I am lead down a long white hallway. Is everything in this fucking place white? God, it's like a weird demented version of heaven. If there was a heaven. I hear the TV first, blasting the mundane noises of a talk show over the speakers before I even see the doors. We turn a corner and there they are. Two twin walls that move when you touch them then lock when you twist them. The doors open and I'm practically shoved forward. I stumble, and someone catches me.

"Hey, Fairyboy, why don't you show our newest addition around the room?" The orderly's voice booms behind me and I cringe into the chest of the person holding me.

The person growls, but doesn't speak meanly. "Yes, I'll do that."

I smile as his voice flows over my head. He's British. Oooo, sexy. "Are you alright?"

I look up and nod. "None worse for the wear, but I'll be out in a few minutes from the shit they put in my system.

"How long ago did they give you the stuff? Was it by pill or by needle?"

Too stunned by the handsome face gazing down on my own, I can only open and shut my mouth mutely, like a fish. He cocks his head to one side andnap nap out of my stupor. "By pill about seven or eight minutes ago."

"You could throw them up."

"I could, couldn't I?" I had never even thought of that. I look around, trying to spot an appropriate place.

"Right over there, the bathroom is in that little room right there." He points and I follow his arm. Sure enough, they even have a sign. I wave my thanks with a hand before crossing and entering the bathroom. Five minutes later, my stomach is empty and I feel better already.

The man is gone when I come back out. Hmm, what a strange soul to meet in a place like this. I sit on a couch, curl into a ball, and do what I've done for the last five days straight; cry.