Welcome to my worst nightmare

Chapter 4

Charlie

“Next,” the stocky nurse with the shiny, bald, cone-shaped head shouted. The sweat running down his face reminded me of iridescent glitter sparkling in the sunlight. Think Edward from Twilight, glowing luminescent skin, except for the fact that it was just his head. For two minutes, I was lost in the magic of his alien-like features. His flat nose pointed Elvin ears that were not a prop from The Lord of the Rings trilogy. The idiot actually had his ears done—body dysmorphia seemed to be common in this place.

I stared, mesmerized, transported to another plane of existence. This wasn’t the first time this weirdo transfixed me. I felt like he was telepathically trying to tell me something. Fuck if I knew what it was. He never spoke, but just stared at me with this odd look in his hazel eyes. Or maybe I was turning into one of these loony bins.

Legolas was probably the average weirdo with mommy issues. I must remind him of his mom or something equally gross. You heard me; he was Christian, the Legolas from The trilogy we all know and loved. I heard the King himself did the deed. Aragorn, a burly scary mother-fucker, who is head nurse/guard. In this, prison forced upon me. Not one of my own making, at least I don't think so.

No one went by their given Christian names. Here they choose names from their favorite movies or books, and since everyone here had a fondness for the trilogy, Aragorn used it as an excuse to nickname people after the characters. It was stupid. Then again, none of the nurses or guards were the brightest bulbs In the bunch, if you know what I mean.

Aragorn’s was nothing like his namesake, handsome, slender, decent human being, with a goatee and shoulder-length black hair. No, this Aragorn looked more like a death row intimate doing life for murder. Yeah ok, he was tall really freaking tall, close to seven feet, however, that’s where the similarities stopped, Aragorn looked more like the Beast on steroids, big, muscular, scary black dead eyes, that held a hint of cruelty, military shaved hair, and hands so big they could squeeze a man’s head like a grape, without breaking a sweat.

I swore the employees of this facility acted more bat-shit crazy than the actual patients, and these nut jobs were force feed poison daily. 

I jolted as a well-manicured finger snap in front of my face. Legolas stood waiting for me to step forward to take the pills in his outstretched hands.

“Charlie, step forward,” Aragorn's lips curled in derision. “No shenanigans today, I'm not in the mood.” He snapped, patting the breast pocket of his worn blue scrubs, indicating the needle in a silent warning. A shiver crawled its way up my body. I visibly swallowed the thick lump sliding its way up my throat. I was all for show, but he still scared the shit out of me.

I had been here a month, to my recollections. A black void now occupied the space where my memory used to be. The second time I woke I was in an unfamiliar room, bare white walls, no windows, not even bedding was allowed and I was strapped to a bed with leather bindings for a week unless I needed to use the bathroom or eat, assistants were given.

It was humiliating for sure, but the crux of the shit was all I could recall was the conversation I had with Mr. Handsome about my parents and the fact that we were missing, everything leading up to me ending in this place was a total blur.

No one seemed to have any answers, asking questions, about my parents, my brothers, anything regarding the accident that led to me being dose with narcotics. Which precipitated my need to escape. I was pissed, scared, and missed my family. 

The fourth escaped attempt was where things got a little dicey for me, let just say I saw firsthand what was in the needle.

I learned one thing during that fiasco, drugs such as Lorazepam, Haloperidol, Olanzapine, and Droperodo. The strongest drugs in this place never lasted as long in my system as they did with the other patients. Of course, the psycho Aragon learned my little secret the first two times I tried to escape, the observant fucker. So he wisely tried another cocktail. The fool thought he was some sort of mixologist in a fucking bar. When the others didn’t work individually, he combined them all. There were enough drugs in that little needle to kill a horse.

I inwardly smiled. An hour after he sank the needle in my arm, I felt the effects wore off. He still did not know. It was my little secret. One I intend to keep, so if I had to pretend to be scared of his little needle so be it, I could also admit the fear wasn't all pretend.

“No worries, big man,” I say as I crossed my fingers over my heart in my most sacred vow to behave. He, of course, didn’t buy my shit. His upturned lip and a disbelieving arch brow indicative his indifference. I groaned. I guess the devil does wear Prada. Jesus, now he thought he was Miranda Priestly, and I was the mental one. I would laugh if the very act wouldn’t get me in deep shit. One thing Aragorn hated was patients laughing at him. His mean side came alive with glee, trust. It wasn't pretty.

Stepping forward, Legolas shoves the three pills in a thin paper cup in my hand. This was worse than drinking bleach straight from the bottle. On the outside, the pills made you calm, susceptible basically a human doll for these monsters, who called themselves aids to the mentally unstable. The inside was a whole different ball game; I felt like my skin was crawling. My mind was a fuzzy mess of jumbled emotions. Anger, fear, happiness, hell, even craziness sat in the middle of my brain waiting to mine fuck me into nothingness. Thanked fuck, my system weirdly purged them faster each time I took them.

My body had been acting weird ever since I was forced into this place of the criminally insane. I still had no idea where I was or why. Let’s be real. If I had a choice, I would definitely not be here, surrounded by these sick fucks. They over-medicate the young girls and women to take advantage of them. What better way to get your dick wet than by using drugged-up women and girls who couldn’t fight back.

I shivered at the possibilities. Trust me, it could happen, it's basically the plot of all serial killer movies,  always target the unsuspecting.

I swallowed the pills and did the obligatory mouth open wide stance as Legolas came closer to inspect whether I swallowed the pills or was pretending to. That was one game I was not interested in playing a second time.

My mother had a saying, we should learn a lesson only once before stupidity becomes apparent. I was anything but stupid. I didn’t particularly feel like being held down and force-fed more pills out of some sick, twisted punishment by the big man. No thank you, once was enough.

Arbitrary, I lifted my tongue as the pill-warden whipped a small UV light from his pocket to shine into the back of my throat. Talk about excessive.

“Dude, seriously, a UV light," I said with my mouth open. "Isn’t that like over the top? Whatever happened to a regular flashlight,” That earned me scowled from the big man over my shoulder and I guess a lecture. I stared at Legolas but his face remained impassive, it was trippy even creepy how this guy’s facial expression never changed.

“Charlie, I said no fucking shenanigans, that includes sass too, little girl. Now let Legolas check your mouth, you’re not the only one waiting in line. Now move it.”

I turn around and saw at least three more people were waiting in line for the daily vitamins.  Mav and Harry, two middle-aged men in their fifties. They were cool for learning things about the facility, well except the name, of course. Oh, and how long they have been residents. Too many vitamins, I guess, and shock therapy affected their memories. 

I sometimes played card games with Harry. I tried to avoid Mav as much as possible when he was by himself, for two reasons he was touchy and he became furious when he didn't get what he wanted. Like being able to touch my ass. Fucking perve is what I called him behind his back.

The last person in line was a girl with baby blue eyes, wheat blonde hair, petite, beautiful, and she appeared to be no older than fifteen. I caught her eyes, and she waved timidly at me. Waving back felt nice, almost normal. I offered her a gentle smile. I could tell she was new. I would have remembered if I saw her before today.

"Charlie, move it." I glanced at Aragorn. A frown marred his brow and his upper lip was curled in a sneer directed at me. I could hear traces of anger as he spoke. His normally deep baritone lowered to a dangerous, animalistic growl. That made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

A tiny green vein at his temple became visible, followed by several more appearing one after another, as he pins me with a murderous glare. I was certain he would give himself an aneurism if he didn’t stop. Not that I would be sad. In fact, the idea thrilled me.

Yeap, I had a terrible habit of pissing off his Majesty—pretty damn often too. Hiding the laughter that was two seconds from erupting, It was difficult, somehow I managed. I turned back and rolled my eyes.

“You roll those pretty green eyes at me one more time and see what happens.” I snap my head in his direction just in time to see him lick his lips.

Instantly, I grasped as a stabbing pain tunneled its way into my head, bringing me to my knees. A memory emerges like a stranger out of the darkness. Slow, cautious, tearing through my mind brick by brick until it slams its way into my aching skull like a tidal wave pulling me under.

Everything and everyone fads. The memory takes over. Tall pine trees fill my line of sight, big puffs of dark smoke billowing up into the still, starry sky. I was kneeling on the dirt floor next to my dad, tears running down my face, my hands covered in his blood as I tried to press my pale, trembling hands to close the multiple bullet wounds in his chest.

Two men stood in front of me, one tall and the other short, with shotguns aimed at someone on the side of me. I gasp as one with croaked black teeth licks his lips as he grabs the front of his pants in invitation. A loud noise blasts next to me, and I scream.

Clammy hands shaking me, forcibly broke my fragile hold of the first memory since the accident. It fades, and I am brutally shoved back to reality. Visibly shaken, I opened my eyes, silent tears spill down the sides of my face. The ache in my head eases to a dull throb as I feel Aragon pick me up from the hardwood floor. He makes his way to my room, exhausted I don’t protest.

It was unlikely I could make it three feet without face planting to the floor, anyway. He mutters under his breath, “Fuckin' pain in my ass.” It clear as day at least it is to me. Any other time I would give him hell for his statement, maybe even aggravating him by laughing, I was just too shaken by the hellish memory to give a shit.