Kathryn and Dalton

Buzzing lights. Bright incandescent lights casting a pale yellow glow reflecting off of the walls and floor. It casts shadows, making the room grow smaller and smaller the longer I stare. The padded floor and high cushioned walls draw nearer and nearer, drowning me in the white fabric. I’m suffocating- I can’t breathe! I scream, gripping onto the single mattress shoved haphazardly into the corner of this tiny room. The blanket is paper thin, as well as the mattress itself. I stand on the mattress, my balance thrown off by the suit I wear. I scream yet again, pushing myself tightly into the corner as the room compresses around me. The mattress begins to crumple and fold against the walls that grow nearer. The ceiling lowers more and more until I’m forced to cower in a low crouch. Voices flood around me- some high pitched and some low pitched. I can’t understand what they’re saying. They grow louder and louder as the walls squeeze at my sides.

Shadow figures dance along the walls, laughing. Their laughter rings inside my eardrums and won’t go away. The walls seem to stop, crowding me into a fetal position ball on the floor. The lightbulb burns me as it presses against my arm. I smell burning as it begins to melt the thick fabric surrounding my entire body. I continue to breathe in the sweet smell of fire before I close my eyes and it dawns on me. My mouth drops downwards and I look around one last time before passing out cold onto the thin mattress.

-

I hear muffled sounds coming from everywhere. It’s hard to differentiate what is real and what isn't. A metal door slams open with force, and what sounds like high heels walk towards me. I lay there unconscious, a slight drool of blood dripping slowly out of my mouth. The woman squats down next to me, and then I feel a cold as ice hand on my forehead. She sighs.

She grabs a syringe from a pocket of her coat, then grabs a small container of liquid. She fills the needle swiftly from the small glass vile and sticks the Sharp into my neck. Water? She’s giving me water. I wanted painkillers. My eyes roll back into their sockets and then open, and my eyebrows drop into a frown.

“You know the rules, Dalton,” Kathryn says as she holds the needle between her two fingers.

I cough, spitting blood onto the white cushioned floor. I then look up into her shining green eyes, careful to look as desperate as possible. My blue eyes meet hers, and I then lower my gaze to the floor where I spat the blood. She sighs once more, covering the needle and sticking it back into her pocket. She takes her dainty hand, setting it on my shoulder. Butterflies fill my stomach suddenly, and I’m taken aback. It’s a simple gesture, no significant meaning other than to comfort a person. She quickly rips her hand back, though, uncertain of the repercussions or what my response would be. No worker has ever been able to touch me. I do nothing. I stare at the floor as the blood swirls and small people made of blood walk around. They aren’t real- I know that. I’m used to it.

“Please,” I croak quietly. My voice is rough, weak, frail. All it’s been used for in the past year is screaming for help and screaming in anger. This nurse is new, possibly only a week on the job. She looks to be 20 something. Fairly young to be working with such a big criminal. I know her name is Kathryn from the name tag she wears over her lab coat that is almost too small. I don’t mind. This was their plan. Shut up. She pushes a strand of blonde wavy hair behind her ear before answering sternly. “No, Dalton. Rules are rules.”

She’s strict and a stickler for rules. We’ll see how long that lasts. She’s new, so she has to prove herself. Especially at how young she is- the threat of losing her job is higher. Yet they let her talk to me. Let alone be alone in a room with me. Absurd. You are thinking too much, Dalton.

I’ve been in this same room for years. Time is just a concept created by species used to determine where orbs are in the vast vacuum of endlessness, though. Surroundings grow familiar and so do faces. For me, although, I see new faces on a daily basis. They don’t quite trust one person with the job. This woman in my room right now, though, something is off about. She has a glow about her. Her blonde wavy hair that shines under the lights of the room is tied back into a messy ponytail- only a few strands that are too short are left resting on her dainty shoulders. She looks fragile, dainty, and soft. Her green eyes pierce through me, showing a fierceness and confidence- as well as fear. I see fear often; it’s a familiar look. Her face is slim with a rosy complexion on her cheeks. She stands, from as far as I can see, only about five foot and nine inches. Only an inch shorter than myself. When one stares at a wall for years and years, the only other activity is to study people and how they dress. Predict their actions, personality, and entire life story.

She notices me staring, and raises a brow. She catches herself and immediately puts on a straight, non emotion filled face once more. Precautionary measures- no showing emotions. It could ‘upset’ me. With a great amount of effort, I use the wall to my advantage and slide up it until I am stranded upright. The suit surrounding my body spans from my neck to my ankles. It’s a thick fabric that leaves rashes and cuts if irritated too much. Straps bond my ankles and wrists to each other. There are also straps up my legs to prevent me from walking around.

Preventively, she takes a step back. The needle she was holding between her two fingers is now covered and stuck into a holder strapped around her lower ankle. She has many Sharps stuck into that holder- more than likely filled with sedatives. She wears a pair of scrubs under her pure white lab coat- washed out purple. The color reminds me of the flower lilacs, and the smell fills my nose. Lilac bushes and vines begin to sprout out of the walls and floor, turning the small room into a garden. The smell surrounds me, and I take a deep breath. The floor is turned into green grass and the obnoxious light buzz is the humming of bugs and birds. I look around in amazement and awe- almost letting out a smile. Only the corner of my lips lift up a bit- the first sign of happiness I’ve shown in many many years.

Kathryn looks at me with a look of happiness in her own eyes. Her face stays a cold emotionless expression. What I’ve learned is to look into the eyes to find real emotions. The face deceives. She looks into my eyes and nods, then turns to leave my cell.

I breathe in again and shut my eyes in a small bit of sadness. When I open them again, I’m back in the cramped, ugly, horrid asylum cell. The smell of lilacs stains my nose, though. I hope I see her again.