“Thomas Jayden?” The cold voice demands an answer from me. I don't have an answer. My hands thrash against the rope pinning them against my sides. I thrash my legs making no progress.
“Stop!” I scream. “Stop it! It's not my fault! I did nothing wrong!” I feel my body already starting to bruise but in my panic I don't care. I try to hit whatever I can with my thrashing body but my elbow connects with nothing. I am escorted into a room that resembles a prison cell more than a hospital room.
“Stop fighting. You are not strong enough.” The voice threatens me to stand down. Feeling defeated, my body goes limp in the arms of those carrying me to the room.
“Please. Listen,” my voice breaks on the last syllable. “I didn't mean to hurt anyone. The voices. They talked to me. They were telling me things but it wasn't my voice speaking. Please. I know others could hear them.” The person who the cold voice belongs to looks at me with dark eyes. His face holds no sign of sympathy.
“Another schizophrenic. Put him in the room.” He walks away motioning to the pale, white room that sits waiting for me. I don't bother trying to fight. This is one battle I know I can not win with force. The guards force me onto the lone hospital bed and fasten the bonds restraining my wrists onto the side of the bed. The rough material is as welcoming as the those who bought it.
“Please,” I whisper. Without hesitation, the guards turn their backs on me and walk silently out of the room. The click of the lock decides the fate of whatever future I have left.
…
“False evidence appearing real… f-false evidence appearing r-real. False…” My shoulders start to shake. The small slip of paper that displays the words so boldly begins to crumple under the strict tension of my fingers. “False…” I bow my head and squeeze my eyes shut. My palms press against my head as if the force could keep the voices away. It’s a hopeless effort. I can’t. I can not continue telling myself this lie. Heavy footsteps sound in the hallway and I focus on the blank walls trying to calm myself. The door swings open and I can tell without looking up that Dr. Strauss has entered my room. Besides nurses, he is the only person allowed through the barriers of this room. No one in or out for the sake of protection.
“What progress has been made?” He asks an open question but his tone demands one answer. The only acceptable answer.
“They’re real,” I whisper. It’s the only way I can keep the hysterics from entering my voice.
“What?” I raise my head to meet his eyes.
“They’re real. I’m not insane. I hear them. They talk to me.” Wrong answer. Dr. Strauss looks at me with pity in his eyes.“I swear. Please. I'm telling the truth.” Dr. Strauss starts to turn away. “Wait! There’s Mrs. Felding!” Desperation becomes apparent in my tone. “She’s a kind lady who seems to hold a lifetime of grief in every word she speaks to me. She begs me to come back though I don’t know where. Then there’s Dr. James Belfer. He seems to comfort the others. He always assures me it will be ok. Though whenever I hear him pain starts to throb all throughout me. My arms feel heavy and my entire body feels as if it is constantly being stung by needles. And then there’s Ainsley. She’s innocent and pure. She makes me feel calm as she’s always around. She never stops talking,” I laugh, which for me just sounds like I’m choking on the air. “They’re real. I feel their voices echo in my head and all around me!” I wish with every part of me I could just let others know what I know. Show them something I’m so confident and sure is real. My feeling of comfort is quickly taken away.
“They’re not real,” Dr. Strauss says through clenched teeth.
“It’s ok TJ,” Ainsley interrupts him.
“They’re not real,” Dr. Strauss repeats, unfazed. “They are pigments of your imagination. You’re a schizophrenic! That’s what this disease is called! You hear things! Fake things! You are at the mercy of whatever fantasies your mind can conjure!”
“Please don't keep me here in this prison,” I beg.
“The hardest prison to escape is in your mind. You are imprisoning yourself.” His stare is steady on me, making me feel small. I stay silent knowing there is nothing left for me to say. I bow my head once again. I hear the voices all talking at once though speaking no coherent words. Dr. Strauss gives me one last look of disgust and exits the room leaving me feeling as helpless as ever. I am scared. I am scared of all the things I can feel but can not see. I scream trying to let out all my frustration and the feeling of being trapped. After a couple seconds my scream seems to fade out. I sit on the rough mattress feeling no better from the hollow scream. I bury my head in my hands as the small, white paper flutters to the ground. False. Evidence. Appearing. Real.
…
“Wake up! Please Thomas! Please wake up!” The broken voice wakes me from my fitful sleep. I tilt my head looking around the vast room in which I now live. All alone. No change. White walls surround my vision. “Please come. Please come back.” The feminine voice of Mrs. Felding echoes in my head. I have felt her lose hope. I feel it inside me now, weighing down my heart. I yearn to go back but I don’t know where I need to go. The others continuously reassure me that everything will be ok but I never knew there was something to be worried about.
“Keep it together,” I tell myself. I take a deep breath. I have only lost control once. I'm never allowed to forget it. I clench my fists and wince as my nails connect with raw skin. I look down and see my hands mangled from my own nails. I’m not surprised. Every day I go to sleep and every morning I wake up covered in scratches. My arms and legs all bear the evidence of my nightmares. The tips of my brown hair brush against my forehead and graze against an open claw mark. My hand reflexively goes up to protect what’s already been injured. I close my eyes and tilt my head back. I plead for the voices to leave but the murmur is never gone. It is always present, a continuous loop of voices. My mind is repeating the only thing I heard last night. The only thing I could dream.
“Forget everything and run,” they said. “Or face everything and rise. The choice is yours to make just please make the right one.” Ainsley’s sorrow chokes my thoughts. The hinges of the door to my room creak open. I jump at the sound fearful of what will enter through the doorway. A nurse steps into the room.
“How are you today?” She asks in a cheery voice. At first I don’t answer.
“You’re doing great,” Dr. Belfer tells me.
“I-I’m doing… great,” I stutter. The voices are swirling inside me. My vision blacks out and then comes into focus.
“That’s good. You seem better.”
“You’ll be ok.”
“I’m… I'm going to be… ok.” Sweat starts to form at the base of my neck.
The nurse’s brow furrows as she sets down the tray she entered with. On it is a new slip of paper. A new quote I need to teach myself. A new cure. I glance over at the new piece of paper.
“The soul always knows what to do to heal itself. The challenge is to… silence the mind.” I sigh and turn my head back to the door. The nurse quietly leaves, closing the door behind her while giving me a last, melancholy smile. Suddenly, my breath hitches in my throat and pain explodes in my chest. The intense throb feels like my heart is just now starting to beat again. Every beat feels harsh and forced. Pain erupts everywhere in my body. I bend over. I try to scream but I feel as if the wind has been knocked out of me. I gasp trying for any sort of breath. Panic swarms my mind. “No! Please. Not again.” I try to breath but I might as well be trying to breath under 60 feet of water. My senses are gone, lost in the panic. I try to walk but my legs fail me. My body slams against the floor. The unwelcoming cold of the cement seeps through every bone in my body. I scrunch my body as small as possible. Screams die in my throat but echo inside my head.
“Thomas! Wake up! Please!” My mind is blocked. I hear screams everywhere. “Don’t let go! Help! Please Thomas! Don’t leave!” All the cuts on my body have reopened feeling like a thousand memories exploding at once. I throw my head back as sweat drips down the side of my neck. Every muscle in my body has clenched yet no movement seems to work. Panic unfurls in my chest and everything has suddenly gone silent for the first time. I am all that is left. I start to find a wisp of breath and I hear a clouded scream, not knowing it was my own.
“Help. Please,” I plead. Even I can not hear my own hoarse whisper. I pause, tears frozen on my face. I am no longer feeling the intense pain that used to envelop me. All I feel is panic. Anxiety leaves me with shortness of breath. I twist laying on my back. My mind suddenly goes blank easing all feelings of panic out of me until there is just one final thought left. The end. That’s all I want. I want the end. I want the pain, the voices, everything to stop. I want the peace that I have longed for for so long. I didn’t used to want this. Any of it. I now have no other option. I lay on the ground staring at the ceiling. Tears fall down the sides of my head. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I didn’t want to lose my life before I had truly lived it. I feel the sensation start to leave my body as my body will no longer be a part of this world. My breath is no longer there as I try for one last second of life. I grasp for breath but there is nothing left to grasp. I feel my heart stop and I know the end is here. I can’t see anything except for light. Light was there to welcome me into this world and it is here to take me away from it. The sadness surrounds me and I close my eyes and know that I will not live long enough to open them again.
…
The light that surrounds me no longer feels warm and comforting but that of harsh fluorescents. Slowly opening them halfway, I blink adjusting my eyes to the light. My soft eyelashes flutter against my cheeks. Surprised, I open my eyes fully and gasp. Stale air fills my lungs but nonetheless, air is racing through me once again. I sit up taking short harsh breaths. My throat feels swollen and rough. I can not understand why I am still here but I know it wasn't an easy job. My body is an entanglement of tubes and wires. I can't tell where one tube begins and another ends. I look around and see the white of a hospital surrounding me. Panic blocks my mind as what I believe is reality crashes upon me. Still here. Still locked in my own prison. I feel gentle yet firm hands restrain me against the bed.
“It's ok. Thomas it will be ok.” I look around and realize for the first time others have joined me in the confined space. There is a petite middle aged woman sitting anxiously in a chair ready to assist me at any time. Standing protectively next to her is a young girl in her early teens. She has light brown hair that's tangled down her back and light blue eyes. Both that match those of my own.
“Thomas.” The older woman moves towards me.
“Wait mom. Give him a moment.” The matured voice comes from the young girl standing near my bed. She looks as if she wishes to move closer to me.
I look up at the body looming over me. A tall man in his mid thirties towers above. I look into his eyes and my body starts to calm itself. My chest still rises and falls quickly. I look around me.
“What…? Where…?”
“Your name is Thomas Jayden Felding,” he starts slowly. “You are here in St. Joseph's hospital in Stockton, California. It's ok. My name is Dr. James Belfer.”
“F-Felding?” Fear overcomes me. The young girl steps towards me.
“Ainsley wait.” The doctor motions for her to stay where she is. “TJ, you've been in a coma. You've just been asleep for a little bit. Good news is, you're awake now and everything will be ok. We’re taking care of you. We know it's a lot to process.” I lay there, motionless, not knowing what to do.
“We’re your family TJ. We talked to you everyday.” Ainsley's voice sounds broken. I look at her close to tears. I remember her. “We begged you to come back. We told you it would be ok.” Our eyes meet.
“I'll be ok?” I asked.
“Yes.
“I-I’m not crazy?”
“No. You're ok. Everything will be ok.” I stare at the ceiling. I feel tears graze my cheekbones and fall staining my hospital gown.
“I-I-I’m ok. I'm not cr-crazy. I knew they were real. I… I'm not crazy.” The words taste foreign in my mouth. For the first time in a long time I feel ok. I feel like my true and utter self. My body shakes with the tears of relief. I close my eyes now knowing that I will open them again. Knowing others will be here for me when I wake. Knowing there's no more false evidence appearing real. Knowing there's no more fear.