“Say this...” Mamoru says once they’re seated in the doctor’s office.
“J’ai besoin de votre aide.”
The man’s brows rose in surprise. He’s impressed. “You’ve learned a good amount of French by ear, but I’m afraid you’re already receiving aider.”
‘Aider? What the hell does that mean?’ Yakusoku, the parrot, wondered. ‘Mam’, what did I say?′
“You asked for help, no big deal.”
‘Where did you even learn French?’
“Nervous April from the cafeteria, she’s always muttering something to God. Must have just stuck with me.”
That sounded like a lie or a cover up but how was he to prove it?
“You seem very attached to that corner of the room. Is your friend standing back there?” The doctor smirked. “Or perhaps I should I ask you in my native tongue since you want to flex your lingual chops mister Atkinson.”
“Ich werde dich töten!” Barked Mamoru from his corner. “Translate that, asshole.”
“I don’t speak French.” Replied Yakusoku.
The doctor hummed then wrote in his notebook. He was also thinking what he’d written. “His delusions are transcending the language barrier. Seems to be for shock value.”
Covering his ears, he growls out loud. “God! Turn it off!”
“What? What do you need 'turned off'?” Strauss leaned back in his seat waiting hungrily for his next evaluation.
“The voices, I’m sick of hearing voices.” He closes his eyes; tears are forming. “Yours, His, Dan’s... just any fucking body.”
“Now when you say ‘his’, you mean?” He takes a guess. “God’s? The Devil?”
“Oh spare me, you fucking know who.” He sniffs back his tears.
Maria. She did this to him. She opened this door to his mind; a door he’d long ago locked and bolted but now it’s back, and he has no clue what to do with it beyond suffer in the uncontrollable weird effects. Hearing thoughts, hurling things across the room when he’s upset, sometimes he’ll just be tired and start speaking in his mind to Mamoru, just to have Dan hear him as if he had spoken out loud with his actual voice. It’s madness! And he can’t turn it off! He asked Mamoru how to do it since he behaves like a seasoned pro with it, but the male only wants to tag-in.
Though, for all the blame he put on her, he misses Maria. And he wants her to come and get him.
‘September. September.’ He chants.
“Please tell me about your friend.” The doctor’s accented voice became kinder. “I really want to know.”
“He protects me.”
“Because the world is a terrible place.”
“Why do you believe the world is a terrible place?”
“Just now, Dan,” And he spat the man’s name out. “he forced himself on me.”
“Why would Dan do that?”
“He’s a sicko.”
“Arschloch.” Chimed Mamoru angrily.
“Dan is straight. Dan has a family and two little girls.”
“Then I feel sorry for them.”
The room grew silent.
“You want me to talk to you, and tell you things... but then you treat me like I’m miming, that I’m cripple.” He glances at Mamoru who’s standing directly behind the doctor making faces. “I want to be listened to for my truth; not some damned trauma you’d like to diagnose because there’s nothing wrong with me beyond being frustrated that I’m very bluntly being ignored.”
Again the man intoned then wrote.
“I am calm. I am FINE. I want to be listened to and believed.” Looking at the doctor, he smiles. “Please?”
“Say I humor you... what would you have to say?”
Shooting out a breath to calm a rage boiling in his gut, he begins to speak. Slowly and evenly. Being sure to make eye contact. “My name is Yakusoku Land, not Atkinson. I live in Groton, Connecticut. I’ve been abducted and missing since December nineteenth last year. I’ve been locked up in Maria Atkinson’s basement. She’s not my sister. No one’s seen me since sometime this year- a woman named Rebecca... I’m not sure I know her last name.” He shakes his head. “I could show you the house if you’d take me?”
“I’m not authorized for field trips.”
“Can you find someone who is?”
“Perhaps. If your treatments go well.”
“Treatments? Those treatments aren’t doing anything but making me insane.”
“Easy boy.” Warns Mamoru.
“I don’t need those types of measures to calm me down.” He corrected his outburst.
“I see.” Strauss writes for a long minute.
Rolling his eyes, he says tightly. “You said you would listen to me.”
“And I am. Do you know what I’m hearing?”
Yakusoku looked expectedly at the man. He knew what was coming. The same thing he always says.
“I’m hearing someone who is so deeply involved up here,” He taps his finger to his temple. “that he can’t see what exist out here.” And he gestures to the room as if it were the rest of the world.
“Will you please look it up, though?” Yakusoku pleaded. “I am missing. And if you look it up you’ll see that I’m telling the truth. ...If you can’t find me” He paused to think. “I’ll take my meds, and behave and everything. But you have to do me this favor.”
“Vous pourriez avoir raison.” Mamoru projected into the man’s thoughts, being sure to use the man’s voice when doing so so that he believes it was He who’d thought it. “Je vais verifier.”
“Just this once... and you promise you’ll behave afterwards?”
Nodding, the man looks at the door. “You may go.”
Getting up from the chair, he glances at his alter as if to say ‘thank you’ before he joins him by his side and leaves the room.
“I told them about your little scuffle with me,” Orderly Dan’s hands drop down on the teen’s shoulders. “and they all agree it’s time for shock therapy.”
“But I didn’t do anything wrong!” He complained and shrugged at the man’s hands to remove them. Futile as it is, he must fight!
So with all his might he jambs his elbow backwards into the man’s gut then takes off running.
“Stop him!” Dan called ahead.
Like cops on the scene, two men standing around the corner just appeared and grabbed him as though he had never run in the first place. He jerked himself forward and back to get free but nothing seemed to be working. He was dragged hurriedly into treatment room number 5, being practically chucked onto the large wooden table, where he is then placed inside of a large sack laced with wires running on the inside. Imagine an electric sleepingbag, only when you’re strapped in nothing but your face is peeking out, while you’re tasered on level six.
He’ll endure it. He had to. He had to stay awake. Had to take the pain of what it must feel like to be tasered by eight people- one in each hand- on full power while not experiencing the part where it paralyzes and blacks you out. He remained in that horrible confinement until vomit spewed from his mouth in moist slime and food chunks.
“Alright, get him out of there.” Said Edgar.
“Maybe now you’ll be a little less rowdy.” Dan snickered into his woosy face.