Wide Awake

I am Tatsuya. I have a Doctor. My doctor helps me. I go to my Doctor. People watch me. People watch me. My Doctor talks to me.

"Tatsuya, you look tired. How have you slept these past few nights?" Dr. Matsuda asked, his eyes peering at me through her thin-rimmed spectacles. The sterile scent of the asylum's corridor lingered around us, a stark contrast to the vibrant greens and blues of the nature mural that adorned the wall.

"I haven't."

He looks at me. "Why haven't you slept, Tatsuya?" His voice is gentle, but firm.

"I don't want to."

"Why not?" Dr. Matsuda leaned forward in his chair, his brow furrowed with concern. The room was small, filled with the faint buzz of fluorescent lights and the muffled cries of distant patients. I fidgeted with the edge of my hospital gown, feeling the rough fabric against my fingertips.

"Tatsuya?" Dr. Matsuda's voice was a gentle prod, pulling me back from the edge of my thoughts.

I look at him, "why haven't you slept?" he asks again. The question hangs in the air, pressing down on my shoulders.

"I don't think this is working," I mumble, avoiding his gaze.

"Tatsuya, we've only been doing this for a month," Dr. Matsuda replied, his tone measured and calm.

I look at my doctor. He wants to hurt me. I have to get out of here!

"Can I go now?" I ask, my voice cracking.

Dr. Matsuda sighs, placing his notepad and pen on the small table between us. "We still have half a hour, Tatsuya."

I can't escape. "Are you okay?" Dr. Matsuda's words hang in the stale air. His eyes are searching mine, looking for something I can't give.

I need to get put of here. "Tatsuya, are you okay?" Dr. Matsuda's voice is a distant echo in my mind as I stand abruptly, the legs of my chair scraping against the cold, hard floor. The sudden movement causes him to jolt back slightly in his seat, his eyes widening in surprise.

I can't breathe. He grabs me. He calls for help. Did he poison me? The world starts spinning. People ran to help. He must've....

My head throbs as I come to, the world around me a blur of harsh light and cold tiles. I'm lying on the floor of the corridor, my hospital gown twisted around me like a cocoon. The echo of my own screams and the pounding of footsteps still ring in my ears.

"How did I get here?"

The words barely leave my lips. I stand, wobbly and disoriented, the floor feeling unsteady beneath my feet. The corridor stretches out before me, a labyrinth of closed doors and beige walls. The echo of my voice is the only sound that fills the space, bouncing off the empty walls like a trapped bird.

I search my pockets, a radio, pens, a pair of glasses, a flashlight, and a couple of double A batteries. The radio is dead, no doubt from the struggle. The glasses are mine, but the flashlight is new. I put the glasses on, they make everything a bit blurrier.

I turn to find... myself in an eerily quiet corridor. The fluorescent lights flicker erratically, casting long shadows that dance and stretch with each pulse. The silence is deafening, the air thick with anticipation. A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead, and I realize my heart is racing.

There, at the end of the hall, is a reflection in a window. But it's not just my reflection. It's another Tatsuya, dressed in the same hospital gown, looking back at me with a smug grin. My doppelgänger. His movements mirror mine, but there's something off about his eyes—they're cold, calculating.

I take my glasses off, he's gone. I put them back on, and he's still there. The glasses aren't broken. It's definitely me. Or is it? The other Tatsuya steps closer, and I can see the malice in his eyes, so clear it's like looking into a mirror to my darkest thoughts.

My heart hammers in my chest. This can't be real. It's a trick of the mind, a figment of my sick imagination. But as he takes another step forward, the glasses slip from my nose, and the reflection changes. The smug grin is replaced with a twisted snarl, and the blur around him sharpens into a stark reality.

"What do you want from me?" I demand, my voice echoing down the corridor.

The doppelganger cocks its head to the side, a mocking look of curiosity on its face. It opens its mouth, and a cold chuckle fills the space between us, a chilling sound that sends shivers down my spine. But no words come out. It's as if the laughter is coming from inside me, a twisted version of my own voice.

"Tatsuya, are you awake now?" Dr. Matsuda's voice pierces through the fog in my head, and I realize that the doppelgänger is gone. I'm back in the safety of my room, lying on my hospital bed with the doctor and a nurse hovering over me.

He tries to touch me. I slap his hand. "Don't touch me!"

Dr. Matsuda's eyes widen, and he takes a step back. "Tatsuya, it's okay. You had a panic attack. You're safe here."

But am I? The room feels like it's closing in again, the walls pulsing with a malevolent energy. I need to get out of here. I need to find out what's happening to me. I push myself off the bed, ignoring the nurse's protests.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I say, my voice trembling.

Dr. Matsuda nods cautiously, and the nurse helps me to my feet, her grip firm but gentle. She leads me down the corridor, the coldness of the floor seeping through the paper-thin soles of my hospital slippers. The asylum seems to have swallowed all sound, leaving us in a vacuum of silence.

People watch me. The nurse opens the bathroom door. The smell of bleach stings my nose, and the stark whiteness of the tiles is blinding. The faucet drips rhythmically in the background, a metronome counting down to my escape.

People watch me. The nurse's footsteps fade down the corridor as she returns to the safety of the observation room. I lock the door behind me, my hand shaking. The bathroom mirror reflects a pale, sweaty version of myself. I remove the glasses and set them aside, taking in a deep breath. The faucet's rhythm is soothing, grounding me in reality.

People watch me...

But when I look around, the bathroom is empty. Just me and my reflection. The doppelganger is nowhere to be seen. I lean heavily against the sink, my hands shaking as I run the cold water over them. The chuckle is still ringing in my ears, a taunting reminder that my reality is slipping away

"I'm watching you."

The whisper comes from nowhere, yet it's everywhere. It wraps around me like a noose, tightening with each word. I whirl around, the water from the faucet splashing onto the floor, but the bathroom remains empty. My breath comes in ragged gasps as I scour the room, eyes darting from corner to corner. The mirror reflects only my own panic-stricken face, contorted in a silent scream.

"Who's there?" I shout, my voice echoing off the tiles. The dripping faucet seems to laugh in response, the only company in this cold, sterile chamber. But the voice isn't the faucet. It's in my head. It's the same voice as the chuckle, the same one that's been whispering dark secrets and planting seeds of doubt for weeks.

I scream. I scream louder than I ever have before, hoping the sound will drown out the voice. But it doesn't. It only seems to grow stronger, more insistent.

Murder... The word echoes in my head, whispered by the voice that isn't my own. It's the same voice that has been haunting me, feeding off my fears, pushing me to the brink of sanity. My heart races, pounding in my chest like a wild animal desperate to escape its cage.

I look down at my shaking hands. They're covered in blood. But it's not my blood. It's Dr. Matsuda's. The room spins as I realize what I've done. Did I... No, it couldn't be. The flashlight in my hand feels foreign, heavier than it should be.

Panic sets in. The walls seem to be closing in, whispering accusations and taunts. "It's all your fault," they murmur in unison. "You're a monster." My chest tightens, and I struggle to breathe.

Dr. Matsuda grabs my throat. I can't breathe. His eyes are cold, no longer the warm, caring gaze that had offered me comfort. His grip tightens, and the pressure builds in my chest, threatening to snap my spine.

"Tatsuya, are you okay? Are you... okay?" Dr. Matsuda's voice is calm and the blood is gone. I'm in the chair again, the cold metal digging into my back. The nurse is gone. It was all a hallucination. Or was it?

Dr. Matsuda's hand was massaging my shoulder, his face etched with concern. "Tatsuya, you're okay," he reassures me, his grip firm but gentle. I take a deep, shuddering breath, the taste of metal still lingering in my mouth from biting down on my tongue during the panic attack.

"You seem to have a small ulcer on your tongue," Dr. Matsuda observes, noticing the blood. "It's probably from biting it. We'll need to keep an eye on that." His voice is calm, but the tension in the room is palpable.

"It's not real," I murmur to myself, trying to convince myself that the horrors in my mind aren't manifesting in reality.

"Did you say something, Tatsuya?" Dr. Matsuda asks, his voice piercing through the fog of my thoughts.

"No," I croak, swiping the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand. "It's nothing."

Dr. Matsuda nods, scribbling something into his notebook. His gaze lingers on me for a moment too long, and I can't help but feel like he's peering into the very depths of my soul.

People walk in to talk to my Doctor. People watch me...

The sound of the door opening snaps me out of my daze. Two orderlies enter, their eyes assessing me with a mix of wariness and pity. Dr. Matsuda speaks to them in hushed tones, his eyes never leaving mine. They approach me slowly, as if I'm a wild animal that might bolt at any moment.

They watch me. People watch me. The orderlies' faces blur into a sea of judgmental stares as they approach. They're talking, but the words are muffled, as if I'm underwater. The only thing that cuts through the haze is the cold steel of the handcuffs that clamp around my wrists.

"Alright, you can go home now, Tatsuya," Dr. Matsuda says, his voice a lifeline in the sea of confusion. "We're going to increase your medication, and I'd like you to come back for weekly sessions. Can you do that for me?"he cuffs are removed. I touch my wrists. I'm free. I nod, not trusting my voice. The orderlies release their grip slightly, but their eyes don't waver from me