mirror of https://github.com/nealey/Horrors2
200 lines
4.2 KiB
TeX
200 lines
4.2 KiB
TeX
\chapauth{kerimeton}
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\chapter{White}
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When the white ward doors opened on that chestnut autumn day I was
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reminded of the front doors of my garden shed in Vermont. I
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remember feeling cold the same way I did that day, not in a
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classical sense but down to the bone. I was feeling an abominable
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chill as if I had been pumped full of antifreeze the moment the
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doors came into view. And also, much like my garden shed, I was
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afraid was what was there. Whether my fears were tangible or not
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was to be proven, I myself, I no longer cared for the suffering
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trumped any fear or loathing I felt.
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I walked down the plasticine hallways and kept my head down; chin
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on chest. It was as if a weight of shame had been strapped to my
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neck and my only option was to walk like a sorry prisoner.
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``Admission?`` the barrel-chested nurse asked behind her oak
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podium.
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``Yes''
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``Which ward`` she continued with the expression of an aghast
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ape.
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''Psychiatry``
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``Name.'' She was curt and unwavering. No doubt the brain
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behind that placid face was as rudimentary as a record
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player.
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"Luke Barvarious'' I paused. ``Barvarious,
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Luke''
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She nodded curtly as if to suggest that I had somehow made that
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record player run more smoothly.
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``Reason for admission''
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It was neither a question nor a statement. She prattled it off as
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if she was in bored haze.
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``I don't know''
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She paused and stared at me. It was hard and cold as if she was
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trying to read my ill intentions. She failed due to a lack of
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any.
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``Mr.Barvarian''
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``Barvarious''
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``Mr. Barvarious'' she repeated, still saying it wrong,
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``I suppose I can admit you to a psychologist but I cannot do
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further for now.''
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``I see''
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``You understand'' she said with a matte expression,
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``that is the procedure for all self admissions''
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I took a seat in front of the office and waited. I was soon called
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in and immediately expressed my distaste for the poor classical
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music on the loudspeakers. The psychiatrist ignored me on that
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point. She reminded me of a wooden plank in personality and
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stature.
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``The report says your 25?''
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``Yes''
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She seemed puzzled.
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``Well, can I ask why you admitted yourself?''
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``It started years ago'' I said in deep thought, ``I
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remember that my mother was ill and the doctor was recommending
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some futile medicine. I was barely 12 then but I knew he was
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wrong.''
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``I see''
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I proceeded, ``I insisted and insisted but I failed to be
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heard.''
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``Interesting'', at this moment her assistant came in and
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a word was whispered into her ear. I failed to realize the
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significance of this and continued.
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``It turns out I was right, but due to the fact of my age my
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words were ignored and cast aside.''
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The physiatrist seemed puzzled again but told me to continue.
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``It's been going on even since a younger age. Nobody
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takes me seriously. When I was young is was due to my youth and in
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my older years it was because of my youthful
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appearance.''
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``I see''
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``I recall observing a fire being put out on a Sunday evening.
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I remember pleading the firemen to take the back route but I was
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continually ignored,'' I paused in repose. ``Do you see
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what I mean, where I'm coming from?''
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The lady got up and treaded lightly on the floor. It appeared as if
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she had taken a tome of information from what I had said. She
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walked to the alcove and poured herself a glass of water. She told
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me quietly that she wondered why this was affecting me now and why
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it took so long for me to come to her. I replied that I
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didn't think that was much help, to which the doctor replied
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that she was the trained psychiatrist here.
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We paused in stifling silence and I realized that the meeting was
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over long before I came in. I felt choked in the stuffy room as if
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I was wearing a sweater in a sauna. There was an uncomfortable aura
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around the couch and the plants that I felt uncomfortable with. The
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urge to stand up ran through my legs but was confronted with the
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sound of a knock on the door.
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The doctor stood up and led the uniformed men in, they held me down
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and I knew resistance was futile. I could not understand the
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predicament though I understood the pain of the tightened
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straitjacket. Once again I was muffled and thrown in the room
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leaving them only to wonder how I had escaped in the first place.
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