Monday, 26 January 2015

Silent Scream: Part Twenty

[I didn't post yesterday since I was drowning in the depths of the dark and twisty place, so even though today is a HOLY DAY, here is a make up post. Because I love you.

As always, you can catch up on parts 1-19 here.


The blinding white he sees when he opens his eyes is a stark contrast to the swirling black inside his mind. He tries to sit up. A hand is placed on his chest, stilling him.

“Easy, brother,” Michael says. His face swims before James’ eyes. He tries to focus.

“Michael?” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Where I am?”

Michael narrows his eyes. “You don’t remember?”

James shakes his head.

Michael takes an uneasy breath in. “You’re in the hospital.”

The what?

Fractured memories play before his eyes. The factory. The mannequin.


“Alexander,” he says, trying to sit up again. Pain shoots through his arm.

“Yeah, you don’t want to pull that out again,” Michael says, tapping the IV beside the bed. “It wasn’t pretty the last time.”

The last time?

A question sifts through the fog in his mind, settling on the surface. “How long have I been in here?” he asks.

Michael frowns. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“There was…There was a video.” James closes his eyes, trying to see it. “It was…There was…” He takes a sharp breath as it all comes flooding back.

Threats Silent Scream white masks Alexander screams blood Alexander.

Three days.

Tick tock.

He sits up and rips out his IV line, barely noticing that his arm starts to bleed. He realises he has a tube in his nose and tries to pull it out too, but is met with excruciating pain.

“That goes down into your stomach. I wouldn’t pull it out.”

He lets go of it. “What?”

Michael shakes his head. He looks like he is fighting back tears. “They have to tube feed you, J. You barely weigh a hundred pounds. The doctor’s say if you don’t put some weight on soon, you could, you could…” He gasps for air. “You’ve barely eaten in six weeks. You can’t go on like this, brother. You can’t.”

“I can’t stay here,” James whispers. His voice wavers. “I can’t. I have three days, Michael. Just three days to…” The look on Michael’s face stops him. “Michael...” Nausea washes over him. “Michael…How long have I been in here?”

Michael looks down at his hands and doesn’t answer.

“Michael! How long have I been in here?!”

Michael chokes back a sob. “We didn’t have a choice, J. They said you had to eat and you wouldn’t and you were getting violent and they said that you could die if you, if you…”

“MICHAEL!” The monitors around him begin to shriek, registering his erratic heartbeat. “HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN IN HERE?? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

A memory knocks the wind out of him.

“No I will not fucking stay!” he screams, ripping the IV out of his arm. “I can’t be here! I can’t be! Let me go! Get the fuck away from me!”

“Please sir, it’s not safe for you to leave! At least let us check your head; you may have a concussion…”

James punches the concerned doctor in the nose and leaps off the bed. Several security guards pounce on him, knocking him to the floor.

“Get off me!” he screams, lashing out. “GET OFF ME! ALEXANDER! ALEXANDER!!”

A needle is shoved into his arm. His limbs grow heavy. He stops fighting.

”Alexander,” he mumbles. “Please. Don’t let them…Don’t…”

The world fades away.

He can’t breathe.

He gasps for air, but there isn’t any.

He is drowning.

“Michael,” he whispers, ignoring the tears clouding his vision. “You let them sedate me…You let them keep me here…You let them, you let them…” He grabs the tube in his nose, barely feeling the pain as he yanks it out of his stomach. A vomit-looking substance sprays from the end as he tosses it to the side and throws himself out of the bed. The monitors squeal even louder. A group of doctors, nurses and security guards come rushing in. James grabs a pair of scissors from the tray in the corner and holds them up, brandishing them like a weapon.

“Don’t come near me!” he screams. “Don’t you fucking come near me or I swear to God I will kill you!”

“Calm down,” the doctor with the bandaged nose says, holding up his hands. “We just want to help you.”

“James, God, put the scissors down! They’re trying to help!”

He whips around, pointing the scissors at Michael. “How could you let them do this?!” His hands are shaking so much he can barely hold the scissors. “How could you?? HOW COULD YOU??”

“He didn’t.”

The sound of her voice saps all the fight from him. He swings around to face her as she steps into the room. The nurses and doctors make way, allowing her inside.

“I did.”

His hand wavers. The security guards see their chance and race over, taking the scissors away and restraining him. He doesn’t try to resist.


His voice breaks.

Another needle in his arm.

He holds her gaze for as long as he can until, once again, everything fades away.