Hazel #2
I’m to be dunked into a tub, and held underwater until I nearly lose consciousness, then brought back to the surface in hopes that it unlocks whatever is hiding in the recesses of my mind .
I am very much not looking forward to this new form of treatment, they gave me a week-long reprieve from my treatments, and for that I’m grateful.
During this time, Bucky has started letting me sneak down to the rocky beach in the middle of the night. It began the night of the full moon, when he startled me from my sleep with a warning not to make a sound, lest I want to be thrown into the solitary cells.
We took the crumbling service stairs at the end of the hallway down to a path that led through the garden, staying hidden in the shadows of the stone wall until we reached the start of the beach.
I nearly jumped with joy as we reached the water’s edge.
It was low tide, and beautiful shells and rocks decorated the sand and stone under the pale moonlight.
I waded in until waves lapped at my ankles, not caring that the ocean was freezing.
But as I stood in the shallow water, gazing out into the dark abyss, I was overcome with an intense feeling of longing.
I wanted nothing more than to immerse myself in the depths, wandering out as far as I could, allowing the current to sweep me under and take me out to where I was naught but a speck in the vast expanse of seawater.
For the first time in months, my mind was finally clear. Something inside me broke, and all the tears I’d been holding in for months broke free as I silently sobbed into the embrace of the ocean.
I almost hoped Draya would appear to drag me away.
Where to? I didn’t know. But in that moment, my heart ached with how much I missed my Talassi friend. I’m not sure why that strange creature made such a mark on my soul, but he did. And I long to see him once again.
—
January 20, 1878
Hydrotherapy is not nearly as awful as shock therapy, in case you were curious. But Bucky gave me some advice, and he told me to dramatize my reactions. The worse they thought I was hurting, the sooner they would end the session.
Was he right? I was unsure. But all they do is dunk me into a tank full of water until they think I’m close to passing out, and then they pull me back to the surface for air.
I’ve always been great at holding my breath, so I simply pretend to choke on the water and beg for mercy as they yank my head back and I gurgle on my own spit.
In the grand scheme of things, I suppose it could be worse.
—
March 30, 1878
I’ve been finding ways to achieve more freedom. Bucky seems to be the nurse on watch most nights, and he helps me sneak down to the beach any time I ask.
He allows me to go by myself now, which is delightful.
I spend a lot of time alone, yet I’m always watched by staff from this godforsaken hospital during the day.
My hours on the beach under the stars and moonlight are the only times I feel truly free, and I fear they may be the only thing keeping my spirits alive in this nightmare I’ve found myself trapped in.
I stare into the depths for hours. The dark waves and endless deep make me feel like I’m not an abomination to society. Anytime I see a fin, I imagine that it's Draya, keeping watch from a distance. I wish so badly he’d swim to the shore, but I know that’s a foolish longing.
I hope that one day I can see the Talassi again, just to prove to myself they’re real. To know that what I experienced wasn’t a figment of my imagination. But if I’m being honest, I’m losing hope.
As my treatment continues and they keep forcing me to talk to the shrinks, I’m starting to wonder if Draya and the Talassi truly are real. The story makes less and less sense the more I think about it.
In truth, I probably clung to a piece of wood from the ship until I reached the shoreline.
And that thought might break me.
—
June 17, 1878
Things have gotten worse. And they just keep getting worse.
Hydrotherapy has turned into shock-hydrotherapy, where they electrocute me at the same time as they attempt to drown me.
It’s incredibly painful, and I’m not sure how I'm still alive.
I barely go to the beach anymore. The saltwater would soothe my muscles, fried and abused as they are, but the thought of forcing my aching body to traverse that far makes me want to die.
—
September 5th, 1878
Today, I learned that all the letters I wrote to my father were actually sent, according to Bucky.
I’m not quite sure how I feel about it, but I suppose it’s nice to know they didn’t get burned or tossed to the sea.
I’m not surprised, but it’s still hurtful to know my father probably hasn’t even opened them, considering the lack of response.
Sometimes I wonder if he ever loved me. I wonder if there’s anyone out there on this planet who cares about me at all, anymore.
—
December 28th, 1878
I forced myself to go to the beach last night, despite the protests of my aching body, and while I was there I noticed something peculiar. A long jetty extends into the water, marking the edge of the sanitarium’s property, and I’ve always been curious about it.
But, until now, I never noticed the small cave tucked into the rocks at the end.
It’s only visible during low tide, and I’m curious about what lies inside.
—
February 13th, 1879
I have great news. My shock-hydrotherapy has ended, and I’ve now graduated to spending days in the solitary cells.
The solitary cells are exactly what they sound like - stone cells containing nothing more than a cot and a chamber pot. I’m locked in there for two to three days at a time, during which I have no contact with Bucky or any other patients or staff. I absolutely hate it.
They say it’s supposed to help me unlock my hidden memories. I don’t think those hidden memories exist.
—
April 15th, 1879
I’ve taken to spending entire nights on the beach now. They leave me in solitary cells for most of the week, but any moment of darkness that isn’t spent in those dank cells, Bucky lets me sneak to the beach.
I wonder if the cave on the jetty feels like the solitary cells.
It couldn’t be any worse, could it?
—
May 8th, 1879
They killed Bucky.
I’ve had my suspicions about this place since I arrived, but now I'm sure. These people are wretched, this place is evil, and my only friend is gone.
Two nights ago, he stumbled into my room in a frantic state, telling me I could no longer sneak out to the beach. I cried inconsolably like a small child, and he brushed my hair from my face as he told me it was temporary. I knew he was lying.
The next morning, they informed me and the other patients that he’d died of a heart attack in his sleep.
I know they killed him. They likely found out that he’d been favoring me, allowing me freedoms that other patients didn’t have. And they killed him for it.
The idea makes me sick to my stomach. What have I ever done to these people to make them hate me so much? It’s a shame I didn’t just drown in the depths when I was tossed from that ship!
I hate this place. I hate my father. I hate this life. I can’t keep fighting. I have nothing left to fight for at this point.
I’ve concluded that the Talassi must be something I made up in my mania after the shipwreck. There’s no conceivable way they exist. And maybe I am truly insane. Maybe the Akala Asylum really is where I belong, and my father was right all along.
I hope they send me back to shock hydrotherapy. This time, I won’t hold my breath, and I’ll do everyone a favor when they pull my corpse from the tank.