61. Brynn
E verything is so fuzzy.
I roll over, and it feels like the entire world moves. Like the entire world rotates around me and not the other way.
My lips feel big. Swollen. I’ve been chewing on them for hours. There’s a lump of flesh in my mouth between my teeth where I’ve been gnawing enough to draw blood.
Blood.
There was blood before.
A lot of blood.
I spilled blood. My blood. Other people’s blood.
I killed people.
Is that why I’m here? In this darkness. Is this what death is? Is this purgatory that I’m in?
It’s drool, the dripping. It’s my drool escaping my lips, falling down my chin and onto my chest.
There’s a high-pitched sound, like a whirling machine that’s gone slightly wrong. It goes on and on and on, and I need it to shut up.
Shadows move around me.
It’s too bright to open my eyes. I try to lift my arms, but they must be weighed down. They’re too heavy, too big to lift. I have monster arms. Great, grotesque things that spiral out from my sockets.
And that screaming goes on.
Footsteps come near.
I can see blurred faces. They look cartoonish, they look like cartoon devils come to steal my soul. Only, I lost it long ago. I lost it the day my husband took me to Oblivion.
A cackle rings out at that thought, and I know the noise escapes me.
I am soulless. I am devil-like.
I deserve death.
A torch is shone right into my eyes and I hiss, trying to bat it away.
I don’t want the light. I want dark.
Stay away from the light. Stay away from the bright.
“The drugs should be all out of her system.”
Those words dance in my head. They spin, bouncing off the walls of my brain.
Drugs.
The word hangs there in technicolour, flashing like an alert going off.
Is that another thing I’ll be punished for?
“If that’s the case then why the fuck won’t she shut up?”
Shutttt up. Shutttt up.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
I’m screaming those words, hissing them. Why can’t they shut up? Why can’t they go away? I want to be here; I want to lie here and just die forever.
A hand slaps my face. I know it’s my father’s. I know the feel of his palm now, the roughness of his flesh.
“Fix it.” Someone snarls.
“Fix.” I repeat, like that is the answer to everything. All everyone has tried to do is ‘fix’ me. Always fix me, because I’ve never been right. Never been good. There’s something wrong with me, something broken.
Only, this time they were the ones doing the breaking.
I’m pulled around, yanked violently across the carpet that I’m lying on. It burns my skin. My hair gets caught under someone’s boot, and that high pitched ringing becomes more intense as I try to get free.
“Fix.” I repeat again.
Fix. Fix or die. Fix or die.
Those are my options.
My heart thrums in my chest. It’s like a battle cry, a beat I can no longer recognise.
“Fix.”
“For fucks sake.” Someone snarls and a boot comes from nowhere, slamming into my ribs.
I hiss more, I snarl back like the devil I am.
“Give her time. She’s only just come round.” My father reasons.
Round. Around and around. The world is round. The earth is round. My skull was round before Conrad punctured it.
The lights suddenly go out.
Darkness swallows me up again.
And that ringing, screaming noise continues.
Ring.
Ring and ring.
And moan.
And groan.
I roll over as the light once more attacks. It’s like laser points, jabbing at me. Slashing.
I can see his face. I can see his anger. My tears stream as I realise how mad he’s going to be. How he’s going to hurt me more.
“Conrad,” I cry. “Conrad.”
Those footsteps surround me and I can hear Xavier yelling, shouting, spewing out his anger like a volcano erupting.
I’m hauled up, I’m dragged out.
My feet dangle beneath me, they catch on the floor, on the threshold, on the rugs. I can feel the pain, but there’s no fear. No panic. Harsh emotions are beyond me now.
And yet that ringing follows me out, follows me like a shadow.
I’m laid out once more. I’m strapped down only this time, the room is different. It’s cleaner.
The doctor glances at me before turning to Xavier. “Are you absolutely sure?” He says.
“Will it shut her up?”
He grunts back.
“Then do it.”
Do it. Do it.
Fix.
Hands grab at me, hands claw at me. I’m once more held in place.
My father appears and he’s suddenly in front of me, his head shaking like he’s trying to stop something. Like he wants to protect me. But my family don’t protect me. My family hurt.
“Don’t,” He says to Xavier. “There’s no need for this…”
“I can do what I like,” Xavier snaps back. “Besides, she doesn’t need it, and it’ll be a nice little thing to send to him. Maybe it’ll speed things up because I for one, am sick of waiting…”
“Xavier,”
My father is pushed out of the way, held out of the way.
My mouth is wrenched open. My jaw feels like it’s pulled apart.
The doctor stares deep into the crevice of my throat and I don’t know what he expects to find there. What secrets he thinks I have locked up.
Metal latches onto my tongue. It yanks and it yanks and I can’t get it free.
Then something slashes. Something cuts.
Pain erupts, blood pours hot from the source. Filling my mouth, filling my throat, pouring down my chin like a river. I gurgle, I choke. I throw up as my blood flows and flows.
It’s unfathomable, unbearable. I writhe and I flail, while my body curls into itself like I’ve been set on fire. Like someone has poured petrol over all of me and then lit a match.
And that high pitch scream moves. It no longer rings out around me but it is in me. In my head.
I can’t breathe.
I CAN’T FUCKING brEATHE.
My hands claw. I’m fighting out of pure instinct and the doctor is there, pushing something in, something hard and plastic and nasty. He forces it down my throat, forces it into my airway.