I dont usually leave my room, because the areas where im allowed to wander around are quite restricted. My Room, the hall and the therapy rooms. Those are the only places i can move around freely, without a therapist or guard breathing down my neck.
Yeah, as if i would ever trust a therapist enough to actually go to their little lounge, but staying in my room felt too suffocating. So where does that leave me? Exactly.
The sterile, gray halls of the asylum stretched endlessly before me as I walked around aimlessly, my footsteps echoing off the walls. The cold air clung to my skin, thick with the scent of disinfectant and something else, something unsettling. Maybe it was the heaviness of the place itself, or maybe it was just my mind, always searching for an escape that seemed more impossible with every passing hour.
I glanced down, watching the floor tiles pass under my feet. One. Two. Three. The same dull pattern repeated in rows, scuffed edges blending into a lifeless grid. I tried to follow a crack in the wall, tracing it with my eyes as it stretched toward the ceiling, only to lose it in the shadows.
I hated how quiet it was. Not normal quiet, empty quiet. Like the air itself had given up trying to fill the space. I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake off the sensation crawling up my spine.
My gaze drifted through the almost empty halls. Whoever found themselves here would be completely lost, just like i am now. Its been 4 years and i always had the same routine. Walk around the place, trying to find new things i didn't notice but i kept getting lost no matter what.
i dont care who designed this place, its horrendous. Its like they took every bad idea about achitecture and mashed it together. And here we are.
This place was designed to break people down. The walls weren't just gray; they were suffocating. The kind of color that made time feel slower, heavier. I wondered if it was intentional. Probably.
I sighed, shoving my hands into my pockets. My gaze drifted down the hall. Empty. Just like every other day.
all the doors look the same. No labels or names to see where which patient is, nothing to help you orient yourself. Every time that smooth-headed doctor comes around, I have to wonder if he's got a damn GPS chip implanted in me. How the hell does he find my room so easily?
Is that maybe like a turn on for him? Something he drives off on? Making people suffer? He certainly looks the part.
Shaking that thought off, I scan the empty halls again. Still no reference points, nothing to give me even a vague sense of direction. The walls are bare. No pictures, no chairs leaning casually against them. Not a single plant to soften the atmosphere. Just dull, grayish walls that make everything feel heavier. This place is a monument to depression. Who thought it'd be a good idea to put people here to "heal"?
I'm starting to wonder if I'm ever going to find my way back to my room when, just around the corner, I spot the nurse's station. At least I know where that is.
On the way to my room, which was on the other corner of the nurses office my ears twitched. Quiet whispers at first, just murmurs beneath the hum of fluorescent lights, but they grew clearer as I got closer. i stopped.
"Have you heard about the new doctor?"
"No, not yet, but they say he's different. Not like the others. Hes kind. I heard he actually listens to patients."
I couldn't help the snort that escaped my lips. Kind? Yeah, sure. Whatever gives you the illusion of peace you need to sleep at night.
leaning slightly closer to the wall, trying not to let them catch me listening. I wasn't exactly in the mood to hear more about fairy tales. But I had to admit, my curiosity got the better of me.
"Have you seen him? What's he like?"
"Oh, you'll see. He's the real deal, actually listens, asks how we're doing. I think he's different from all the others."
I raised an eyebrow. So, let me get this straight: the new doctor is supposed to be kind, listens, and actually gives a damn about people?
Yeah, because that's been the problem here. A lack of bedside manner. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. If this was a joke, it was a bad one.
"Right, kind. I'm sure he'll also spoon feed us and sing us lullabies while we're at it," I muttered to myself.
But even as I said it, a tiny part of me wondered.
Was there a chance?
I leaned back, pretending to mess with my sleeve while I processed the conversation. Kind? I had to see it to believe it. The doctors here were all the same. Cold. Detached. The kind of people who wrote down your symptoms and handed you another dose of pills without ever looking you in the eye.
"Maybe you'll get to meet him today," one of the nurses added, not noticing my eavesdropping. I snorted again. Yeah, I bet I will.
With a final glance at the nurse's station, I turned the corner, walking deeper into the hall, my thoughts swirling. Kind doctor? Sounds like a setup.
~~~~~~
The door to my room creaks open.
I freeze, every muscle locking up. I was just thinking about the conversation I overheard.
But it's not the usual smooth-headed doctor who steps through. No. Instead, I'm greeted by the stranger with dark, onyx black eyes. My stomach tightens, but I don't show it.
"Maybe you will meet him today"
Was i the problem? Did i jinx it?
He smiles, the kind of smile that's warm, too warm, and his voice is smooth as silk. His black wavy hair was short and elegantly styled. in contrast my darkish blond hair must look like the absolute horror. Not that i would know anything about that, since i didnt even have the benefit of a mirror in my room.
"My name is Ezekiel Blackstone, but you can just call me Ezekiel. i will take care of your Therapy sessions from now on, doctor Willensburg has… something to do"
My eyes slightly narrow. So that explains why i didnt see him around lately. Doctor Willensburg would have never freely do something else than suffocate us patients, so there must be something wrong.
Either he broke one of the rules and tried to help a patient escape, which i genuinely doubt since he seems to quite enjoy torturing people, or he simply got transferred to a different asylum.
A shadow disturbed my thoughts and as i looked towards the new person i saw it. He extends his hand toward me. The gesture is casual, friendly. He expects me to shake it.
I don't.
I dont even move an inch. I stay rooted to my spot, staring him down. My heart races, though I refuse to show it.
Ezekiel's smile doesn't falter, but his eyes… something about them doesnt sit right with me. They gleam with a strange intensity, like he knows something I don't.
Like he knows me better than i know myself.
And It annoyed me. His hand is still outstretched, but i still dont move an single inch.
i take a breath, but I don't say anything. I don't trust this.
Not yet.