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Pull the Trigger pt.1
I awoke with a sharp pain in my neck, which I realized was just a crick, and another ache in the temples of my head. I spat; there was a bad taste in my mouth. I wasn’t surprised at the tooth and blood that erupted out.
I turned my head away from the side and aimed it upwards. In the very bottom of my eyes I could see my body. I was strapped down to my uncomfortable bed. My head hung off the edge, punishment to my struggling last night. I looked around my room. It hadn’t changed. Same one-way glass walls and that one intercom. The floor was white and the walls were simply mirroring me.
“I must have put up a good fight,” I said, trying to sound rebellious and myself, but my voice wasn’t there. I came out weak and worn down. I tried to file the straps, but they had born down on my fake nails, so now they were not sharp. I cursed, my weak voice coming out in an almost-witch like cackle.
I shut my eyes as a pain familiar to me struck - memory.
Mosquito and the rest of the gang and I were walking from the bar, none of us in the least bit tipsy at all. We had to be sharp, since we looked like freaks.
We were laughing and joking and shoving each other.
Mosquito, who, after flipping his bleached long hair, pointed his heavilytattoooed arm behind him.
“Who wants to come over to my place? I got the right gun - We can do RR,” he said, his voice clipping mysteriously. We all fell silent, but we grinned. Beneath our smiles was serious fear.
I shrieked behind my clenched teeth as I came to. I realized I was shaking and twitching and wildly flailing. I had no control.
I did not panic. I was used to seizing now. Now I could be conscious of it. I suppose this cursed hole did help somewhat. I found something within me - I could do something that make everything my way - freakish.
I grinned my filed-to-fangs-teeth.
We arrived at his place, trashed with art and darker drawings. Then, all the lights went out. We all screamed even though we knew it wasn’t real.
I felt rope being tied around me. I felt myself being dragged. I felt the rope being cut, then me being carried into a cold, metal seat. I reached out and touched a metal and cold table.
A single light flicked on above, being held by a wire. It wasn’t enough to illuminate the entire room, but enough to see the faces around the table. They were all smiling, but I could faintly see the fear beneath.
For once, I wondered if playing Russian Roulette was such a good idea. I don’t show this.
I felt someone taking my pulse. I heard someone talking, but not what they were saying.
Then I could start to get my feeling back. My thoughts became more rational. Or, perhaps more irrational.
The voices were male and finally I could make out words.
“She’s fine. Her pulse returned, healthy as when she came here. We’re not sure if she’s conscious yet - she could be pretending to sleep.”
“What’s this patient’s name again?”
“We’re not completely sure. We all called her Acid because that’s what she calls herself and because she’s very cruel.” The doctor, who I realized was that jerk in charge of my case, Dr.Sullivan, laughed quietly.
“....Alright. So is Acid able to talk to police? Tell us what happened to her and her friends?”
“No,” Dr. Sullivan whispered with cold sharpness I had never heard from him before. It was a shock. I felt a shiver but did not acknowledge it.
Dr. Sullivan was the kind of person who was a goody-goody who got A+’s all throughhout high school, college and whatever else. Total do-gooder. Probably has never heard of atattooo. Or guns. His favorite show if probably Barney.
That didn’t stop him from being a manipulative jerk.
He could whisper to you and you could immediately trust him, then he’ll stab you with his syringe and you’ll fall unconscious. Simple as that. Complete silver-tongued jerk.
The other male I assumed was from the police. He was young, youth glowing from his wrinkle-less face. His eyes were a bright blue with young innocence. He had a military cut- the little hair stubs were blonde. He was fair.
I hated him.
He was looking over some papers. He looked a little annoyed.
Dr.Sullivan was staring at me, I could feel it. He was looking me over, making sure I wasn’t trying to escape. I sneered at him. He smiled tauntingly.
I decided to make him look afool.
“My name is Stephani.” I choked out in my worn voice. I moaned in innocent, hurt pain, pulling my shoulders up. The straps tugged along.
Dr.Sullivan’s old gray eyes widened in shock, realizing what I was doing. The police man looked up, shock and confusion blooming quickly.
“How long has it been?” I asked Sullivan weakly. He opened his mouth, looking over to the policeman, as if not sure what to say. The policeman had accusations in his eyes.
“What kind of ‘clinic is this doctor? Are you holding an innocent and perfectly sane girl in straps? I’m going to report you.” He quickly turned and left throughh a door I had never seen. It was well-blended in with the wall.
Dr.Sullivan gritted his teeth at the door. He turned to me and hissed:
“Stupid girl! You should have kept your mouth shut! Don’t you realize that I’m protecting you?! I’m protecting you from yourself! Look at you! Tattoos, piercings!” He was glaring at me. I looked myself over. They had removed all of mytattooos and piercings when I got here. I was in a coma during it but, well.....
“Don’t you realize? Being that monster you were when you came to us was killing you! You’re lucky this disaster struck! You’re lucky I’m treating your insanity!”
I spat in his eye and grinned.
It was night, or so I assumed from my tired eyes and sleepy and slurred mind. My stomach growled. I refused to eat the medicated food they fed me. All was still. All was quiet. All was peaceful.
Then it struck.
In the middle of the table was a gun. I don’t know guns very well.
It was shiny steel. It had a revolver you could spin and you could see where you’d put the bullets. It looked like a gun you’d have to go back in time to get.
Mosquito grinned at us. The table, being rectangular, had a smaller side, where in the past the dominant person would sit. There he sat. He reached and took the gun.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “I emptied it before we left.”
I awoke to shouts and screams. Dr. Sullivan was in my face. He was shaking me. I, again, couldn’t hear his words, but could hear the noise of him talking. I could smell something pungent, something very definite.
“Acid! …...Ace.....S … Ire!!!” He shouted, and I realized my hearing was wrong. I tried to look around and was dimly surprised at the fact my straps were gone.
“WAKE UP ACID!”
“I am I am! Why is someone scream.....” I realized the smell was smoke. Nurses were running around my room in their little white outfits of mini skirt and jackets and shirts. The little red cross was etched poorly on one side.
“What’s going on?” I asked loudly. Dr. Sullivan just shook his head, grabbed me and held me the way you held babies, and carried me out the door and down the white mental ward’s hospital hall.
I was carried outside. I was being carried by the ever-so-resentful Dr.Sullivan - hater of all things colorful and remarkable - out of a burning mental ward hospital.
I reflected howstrangee this moment was.
The people who built the hospital had to level the ground, so there was a little hill Dr. Sullivan had to climb up. His knees weren’t very good - I could tell - and even though I’m like ninety pounds - he had trouble carrying me.
I recalled a little story I had heard from a sister of mine, when I was eight, maybe even six. It went like this:
There was family who had seven children. One day the youngest and smallest girl, Saidy, ran away and provoked the early witch. The witch cursed her and her family.
The family asked the wise man what to do. He said to run away form the town. The town will be lit down to reverse the curse. They told no one, no one knew they were supposed to leave to live. The town was lit on fire.
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