Survive- the Asylum Read online

  Table of contents

  Chapter 1 - Awakening

  Chapter 2 - Confusion

  Chapter 3 - Questions

  Chapter 4 - Escape

  Chapter 5 - Anxiety

  Chapter 6 - Loneliness

  Chapter 7 - Danger

  Chapter 8 - Answers

  Chapter 9 - Night

  Afterword

  Imprint

  Chapter 1 - Awakening

  It's like flipping a switch.

  When I come to, I can't remember anything. Not about what happened last. Not about how I got here. I've even forgotten what day it is.

  From one second to the other I am here, staring at the bare white ceiling.

  What happened?

  I dunno. I only remember one thing: Richard Johnson. That's my name.

  I lie in a lain out bed - the individual feathers stab me in the back - and apart from a few rays of sunshine that penetrate the barred window, there is absolutely nothing in here. Just empty walls without details. A room with only one bed and one window.

  Am I in prison?

  At first sight it seems so. It takes a while before my muscles and tendons want to obey me again. Whatever happened, it must have gotten to me. My head is pounding and aching like a drunken stupor. My legs can hardly bear me. Every step is shaky and uncertain. The cold tiles hurt my bare feet.

  As I grasp the doorknob, I realize how pale my skin is. How long have I been asleep? You won't find a mirror here, but I'll bet I look terrible.

  Suddenly my heart begins to rumble restlessly. Muffled voices echo through the door. They sound like busy people.

  Where am I?

  The longer I'm here, the more I need to know. The fact that I can't remember anything scares me. Could it be that I was in an accident and I was in a coma? A strange feeling. Everything that you were and thought you were has suddenly disappeared. All that remains is the murmur in my ears and the pain behind my temples.

  For a second I lose myself in the thought, then I finally open the door.

  I need to know what happened.

  I have a long hallway outside. It is just as white and sterile as the room in which I woke up, and doors like mine can be seen everywhere. I see two women running around who look like nurses. They carry clipboards with them and rush past me as if I were air. Confused, I look at them. Did I actually have an accident?

  It still seems to be early in the morning, because the sun is only shyly fighting its way through the narrow windows. There are other people here besides the sisters. They are partly dressed in white nightgowns. I only ever see them for a second before they disappear into their rooms.

  Now my heart beats even faster. What happened to me?

  It seems to be my frightened face that one of the sisters now suddenly calls out. She scurries so abruptly next to me like a ghost, her clipboard pressed against her chest, and looks me inquisitively in the face. Her red hair has been tied into a tight knot.

  "Good morning", she says politely. "How are you today?"

  She talks to me as if she knows me. It makes me so insecure that I don't answer. Have I lost my mind?

  "How long have I been here?" I finally ask without greeting her. "What happened?"

  The nurse smiles indulgently. She looks like she's talking to a toddler.

  "It's all right. Don't worry," she replies in a calming, professional voice. "I guess you're just a little confused today."

  She digs in her pocket before she puts something in my hand.

  "If you have taken your pills, you will feel better," she now promises. "Same as ever."

  "What does that mean?" I exclaim, but she just dumps me and rushes off to the next patient. He staggers straight out of the room to the left of mine and reaches into the air as if he were hunting invisible insects. For an endless, horrible moment I stand rooted to the sterile corridor and stare at the tablets that have just been given to me.

  Same as always?

  How long have I been here? What is this stuff?

  And more importantly, how long have I been swallowing it? I don't even know what it is about! Meanwhile, another critical look at the surroundings is enough to make me realize. This is no ordinary hospital. The barred windows, the rounded edges on every wall. Disoriented patients who stagger around like drunks. The confused calls from the other rooms.

  This is a nuthouse.

  "How the hell did I get here?!"

  My pulse is racing. I can feel my blood rushing through my veins. I feel dizzy and nauseous at the same time. Am I having a panic attack? Suddenly it feels like there's a lump in my breast. Like an icy cold fist squeezing my air.

  I gotta get out of here!

  It can't be. It can't be! My throat's closing up. Instead of taking the pills, I throw them noisily on the floor.

  "Let me out of here!" I yell out of my mind. "I won't be locked up in here!"

  The windows.

  My head is popping up. Can I jump through the windows? But I can‘t get threw the bars. It's worse than prison. With eyes wide open I start walking around and looking for a way out. Somehow I gotta get out of here.

  All of a sudden the nurse from before grabs my arm.

  "Calm down," she demands. Her voice is still neutral, but also strict. "Just relax."

  "No!"

  I'm fighting back.

  "Let me out of here!"

  I can feel the looks of all the patients on me. What did those orderlies give me? Why am I so weak?

  At this moment another sister is rushing in. It's too late to see the syringe in her hand. Before I can react, she sticks the needle deep into my neck. I scream with fear and anger as the fluid spreads through my body with a tingling sensation. What is that?! I want to scream, but not a word comes out of my mouth. My tongue is completely paralyzed.

  While I slump down on the bare tiled floor, I look the nurses in the eyes. I can find no pity in them.

  When I come to, a new day has dawned.

  Today the sun shines more boldly into the plain white room and throws stripes on the ceiling. My neck is stiff and aching. My fingers feel kind of numb. Other than that, I'm fine. As good as one can feel after a night on such a mattress.

  The memories of yesterday seem blurred and unimportant to me. What happened? I can't remember exactly. All I know is I was here. So this place feels a little more familiar than yesterday.

  It takes me a while to pull myself together. I don't even have to get dressed. I'm still in my white nightgown from last night.

  As I step barefoot into the corridor, I see the sisters running around again.

  They again carry clipboards in their hands and hand out tablets. This seems routine. Like deja vu I'm watching. Although I still feel a stranger here, I'm not panicking this time. I've been through it all before. This fact seems to activate a mechanism in my head.

  All is well.

  It does not take long until one of the nurses finds her way back to me.

  "Good morning", she greets me. "Here are her pills."

  "Thank you."

  I look at her. It's not the same as yesterday. This one is blonde and has big green eyes.

  "What are these drugs for?" I ask cautiously.

  She looks back and seems as if she is thinking about whether she should answer me.

  "They should support your therapy," she then explains. "Taking them makes brain a little quieter and things easier for you.“

  "What do you want to make easier for me?" I want to know.

  She is visibly uncomfortable with the subject.

  "Only the doctors can give you detailed information. I don't want to tell you anything wrong."

  And with that she flits away as quickly as if she wanted to avoid my questions. It is an
odd thing. But I have no choice but to take my dose for this morning.

  After I swallow the pills, I shuffle back to my room.

  I know, it's almost breakfast. Until then I lie in bed thinking, but I can't remember anything. What happened yesterday is only a vague mush of images and sounds. What must have been part of my life before has completely disappeared. No matter how much I think about it, there's only blackness. I wonder what therapy can have such far-reaching consequences.

  In the afternoon we are called into the common room. Every day we are to spend some time there so that the nurses can supervise us. Each of us has been assigned a task. It is determined by the employees and is supposed to train our cognitive abilities and help our perception.

  I've been given a Rubik's Cube to solve. I hate these things. A horrible relic from the 90s that no one can stand today. I couldn't solve these things even then. How am I supposed to do it now?! But then I notice that I do remember one detail from before - the damn Rubik's Cube. Doesn't this mean that therapy is helping me? Uncertain what to think of it, I turn listlessly around the colored boxes. While doing so I observe the other patients. Many of them seem absolutely unresponsive. They stare holes in the air, draw with chalk on their hands or bite off their fingernails. Only a few of them seem to be clear and responsive. Others I cannot judge.

  A young woman catches my eye. She sits motionless at the window and looks out. She blinks so rarely, as if she were just a mannequin. Her skin looks thin and pale like paper, her gaze depressed and lifeless.

  At the table next to her sits a blond man with deep rings under his eyes. He seems more relaxed, but his gaze keeps scurrying across the room as if he were looking for something. He has obviously been given a writing task, because he scribbles something into a notebook.

  The third person who stands out from the others is a black-haired man with a thick beard. He also sits at a table and plays chess with himself. Again and again he moves the figures without distorting the expression. It's like he has an adversary I just can't see. While he moves figure by figure, he is completely concentrated.

  I get the idea to address one of the persons. Maybe they can give me a clue as to how I got here. Because that seems like a good idea to me, I'm nodding my head. Then I decide to start with the young woman I saw first.

  As I approach, the dark-haired woman winces and looks over her shoulder in fear. It takes a second before she recognizes me and relaxes her shoulders. I wonder who she was expecting.

  "Hello," I greet them to start a conversation. For a while, I'm not even sure if she's gonna answer me at all. She's just nervously nibbling on her black ponytail.

  "Hello ...", she replies in a clear voice. She doesn't seem absent, but just as normal as me. At least, except for one difference: Her eyes are constantly moving. While she sits there on the windowsill in front of me, she looks around the whole time. Her eyes scurry over the walls, the windows, the bars and then stick a little longer to the caregivers and the other patients. It's as if she's expecting danger. It's abundantly clear that she's scared.

  "What's your name?" is what I want to know. Maybe it'll distract her a little.

  "Kate."

  Her voice is low.

  "My name is Kate," she repeats. Her eyes never meet mine.

  "Hello, Kate. How long have you been here?"

  I don't know what I'm trying to achieve with this small talk. Maybe it just makes me feel a little more human. Anything's better than talking to those weird nurses. They are nice and courteous, but at the same time I don't like the look in their eyes. They look at me like I'm not part of society anymore. At least not officially.

  Kate shakes her head and interrupts my thoughts.

  "I don't know," she replies. "There are no calendars here."

  Her gaze becomes dull and empty.

  "I can only count the winters that pass," she adds. Her hand is touching the windowpane. The only way out.

  "How many winters have passed?" I ask quietly.

  "Two, I think," she replies. "I forget how many there were."

  While she curses quietly, I wonder if she is really sick. She looks so clear and healthy!

  "Can you remember how you got here?" I want to know. "Because I'm not doing it. “

  She nods uncertainly.

  "I came here because... had problems," she admits. "It feels like decades ago."

  She is frowning.

  "Everything is blurring here," Kate finally adds. "This is the medication's fault. “

  I look at my shoes with concern. I don't seem to be the only one who feels imprisoned in here. What do they want to help me with? I feel perfectly normal. One look at Kate reveals that it is apparently the same with her.

  "But something is wrong here," Kate suddenly whispers. She bends closer to me with a stare.

  "What do you mean?" is what I want to know.

  "They're here," says Kate. Her tone is perfectly serious. "I do. I can feel them."

  "Who...?" I ask skeptically. "Who are you talking about?"

  She opens her mouth and is about to answer, but suddenly a nurse appears beside me.

  "It's time for your pills," she says before she grabs me by the arm and just takes me with her. At first I want to protest, but as soon as we move away from Kate, the nurse continues:

  "Be careful with her," she warns me. "She has acute paranoia and could relapse at any time."

  It is the first time I see the redheaded nurse smiling, albeit sadly.

  "Please don't scare her."

  After taking my pills, I decide to try my luck elsewhere. Kate's disappeared, so I walk towards the blond man I noticed earlier. He stops writing immediately and watches me with a friendly, open look.

  "Oh, I haven't met you yet," he says happily. "I haven't seen you here before. I don't even know you. “

  I wonder if he notices he's repeating himself.

  "My name is Pete," he continues. "When did you get here?"

  I want to answer him, but I can't right away. How long have I actually been here? I'm not sure. Of course I still remember my fear of yesterday and also roughly the details of this day, but ...

  Who says yesterday was actually my first day here? I look at Pete with uncertainty.

  "I'm not sure," I admit.

  Pete smiles reassuringly.

  "Don't worry," he says. "Everything's gonna be better now that you're here."

  He turns around briefly and watches the nurses.

  "They do everything they can to help us," he adds. "Since I've been here, I can finally sleep soundly again. The nightmares are gone."

  "That's good" is my answer. At least someone who seems to be doing really well here.

  "Yes."

  Pete looks happy.

  We talk a little before I get up and take a look at the chess player. Pete doesn't seem to be able to help me, so I have to keep trying.

  I sit down opposite the mysterious man, but he takes no notice of me. Instead of addressing me or even looking for eye contact, he concentrates fully on his chess pieces.

  "Hello," I say.

  Now his gaze scurries in my direction and stays for a moment on my eyes. Immediately afterwards he looks stoically at the checkered board on the table again.

  "What's your name?" I ask to break the ice. I already suspect that I probably chose the wrong person - the guy doesn't seem to be really together. As if he wanted to lie to me, he looks at me again. His eyes are clear and I can feel it working behind his forehead.

  Yet he decides not to answer me.

  For a while I sit across from the man, until finally a nurse appears and takes me away.

  "Come. Time for dinner."

  In bed at night I think about all the strange people here while staring at the bare ceiling above me. Kate in particular remains in my mind. She made this normal, waking appearance... and then suddenly she changed. It is as if I can still see her frightened eyes. I will probably do all night. I guess that's what it's like to live in an instituti
on. No one is what they seem. Everyone has problems.

  The question is, do I belong here?

  Chapter 2 - Confusion

  The next day there is free employment.

  All patients are called to the kitchen to bake cookies. After a short explanation we get dough, milk and eggs in our hands. There are even forms to cut out. Actually, this is not necessarily a leisure activity for which I would volunteer, but I have no choice but to participate. Besides, the drugs give me a certain indifference. Time goes by much faster than usual. They blur and compress the details of the day.

  As I roll out the dough, I watch Kate. She looks dreamily out of the window and does not participate in the baking. I can't recognize the chess player - he's not even in the kitchen. Only the blond man named Pete is there, sorting the cookie cutters as if he couldn't wait to use them. The other patients have gathered, but some of them seem quite confused. One of the men begins to run in circles and is quickly taken away by the nurses. It's the one who is always chasing the invisible insects. Another woman watches the stove with a stare.

  "When they've rolled out the dough, you can start cutting out the cookies," explains one of the sisters.

  "You must be careful not to tear the dough. This requires a sure instinct. And please don't argue!"

  After her announcement, the sister moves away a little to observe the goings-on. Somehow I feel strangely exposed now. Pete, on the other hand, seems to be really enjoying himself. He moves the cookie cutters as carefully as if he were holding an infant.

  For a while I watch his actions until suddenly a sharp scream scares me. A metal sheet falls to the ground and immediately there is a commotion. Patients run around and the remaining nurses immediately storm the kitchen.

  It's the woman who fixed the stove so oddly. She holds her hand in the air and now starts to whine. I can see the nasty burn on her hand. The woman must have reached into the oven without putting on gloves.

  "Ow! Ow!" she shouts. Then she starts to laugh. "The flames..."

  Her tangled hair stands out from her head on all sides. Their eyes rotate wildly in their sockets.