Early Onset.

[Pyper]

IV.
~

Met Felicity.
Like me. She spoke, words tucking themselves in. Nestling, worming.
In my head.
Strange feeling, like fingers leaving prints on my brain.
I asked Paige, if she could feel it.
When I look in, even for seconds.
No answer but I will wait.
Felicity dances.
Went to find a guitar.
Strings, hum. My fingers can still recall them.
With air, invisible.

XXXXXX

Also did something.
I know only blood.
No food, no drink.
Vomit. Clogged everything.
Sorry, Phoenix.
I bought a drink. A study.
Instead of cutting Leah.
Haven't seen her. Since last time.
This woman. I want to make notes.
Reactions. Color of vomit.


Like tomato soup?

[Pyper]

Cinc.
~

Saw Paige.
She introduced me to a man.
Wendell. Wendigo, Leah says.
I don't know which.
Sandwich the name.
Still Wendigo.
He said to maintain appropriate hygiene.
I've been trying.
Need a job. One best suit.
Looking..
Asked a man about his.
Over six hundred.
Jaxton.
Nice. Large.
I studied tv. Normalcy.
Showered. I did things I saw, with Phoenix's stuff.
Pencils. Iron.
Lots of steam.
Loops, of metal. Around my fingers.
Average. Blending.


I remember all of this. Vaguely.

[Pyper]

1-30th.
~

I cut like butter.
I never heard anything.
Resting my eyes, only for a second.
"Hi Pyper."
Maybe he could see but I smiled.
Phoenix cannot get angry.
It was unanticipated. Random.
Random should happen more. Happen often.
Maybe it'll be quiet again, and soon.
I still retaliated.
I stored things in my head. I gave them to him.
I don't know what I effected.
Did I take his voice? Or something else.
Still have animals. Lined in rows. Neat.
Precise. For Roderic.
He left. Voice boxes.
Last thing he said.
The ants are starting to eat the bodies.
I'll have to kill more.


Checklist
[ X ] Needle.
[ ] Line.

[Pyper]

H O S P I T A L : P R O P E R T Y
C O N T E N T S : C O N F I D E N T I A L
C A S E : N U M B E R : 1944584050994
S C O T T : P R O U L X : PHD

°
Patient's name is Lucretia Mercy Thisben.
Admitted three months ago.
View further details in case file.
Diagnosed with severe schizophrenia.
Prescribed 50mg of Seroquel. Recommended to be taken three times a day.
Stability: Pending . . .
°

Dr. Proulx : "Good morning, Lucretia. How are you feeling?"
There's rustling, a distinct clang of metal chipping at other metal. A wheelchair, crudely designed; the restraints are required after a patient has an episode. It's protocol. Only the directives from any of the doctors could yield an orderly - no matter how opposed to complying - into removing the straps trapping both arms and legs to unforgivable metal crafting.
Lucretia : "It would have been a better morning. You kept me locked again. Trapped. Why do you insist on inflicting me with forms of abuse? You neglect me, Scott."
Dr. Proulx : "You can understand why you were placed in your room last night. You attacked another patient; and it's not something tolerated here, something you've known from the beginning, Miss Thisben. You have been here three months. These rules have never changed."
A disorganized scatter of fingers drum over the chair's arms. There's an exasperated sigh, the suction and relaxation that the thickest part of the tongue creates a popping noise. Always in strings of seven. The hum is the start of a sentence.
Lucretia : "Hnn- ... I wasn't attacking her. You are mistaken."
Dr. Proulx : "Then what would you have called it?"
Lucretia : "Molding life with my hands."
Dr. Proulx : "Lucretia, you choked Mrs. Wilkins."
Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop-Pop. Pop-Pop-Pop-Pop.
With the rising levels of anxiety, or the simmering irritation drawing along the expressive curvatures, the popping quickens its pace. Maybe there's partial understanding, a ping of guilt burying itself to bloom. Become recognizable. Yet the words fight back, preserving a diseased self-righteousness.
Lucretia : "The way a neck is for us is designed without any anatomical protrusions. I helped. I was pushing it back in."
Dr. Proulx : "Mrs. Wilkins had undergone partial reassignment surgery, accounting for the feminine physical appearance. On multiple occasions, it has been brought up as a subject in group. She expressed wanting to save money for a chondrolaryngoplasty. Doctors will go in and shave down the thyroid cartilage to reduce the size of the Adam's Apple. Why did you think you had to be the one to aid Mrs. Wilkins, Lucretia?"
Lucretia : "No one else was. Talking, never does much. You talk, push out all of your air. Does it deliver, Scott? It doesn't mend the body, it doesn't place money in your pockets. Acting is what does that."
Dr. Proulx : "Do you remember the first day of group?"
Every noise stops. The words had triggered something but - even if there had been a visual of the scene - it was hard to tell what. It's a harsh stare; at times, it's often doubted that inner thoughts remained private.
Lucretia : "You're going to recite a rule here. It doesn't apply."
Dr. Proulx : "Lucretia, you are exhibiting the textbook signs of caretaker behavior. The orderlies, the nurses.. that is their job to do. Your job is to work with me, to reach certain goals. Do you agree?"
Lucretia : "Then they are not doing their jobs."
Dr. Proulx : "You didn't answer my question."
Lucretia : "I don't agree. Never, with you. You keep me filtering stale air. You want to suffocate me. Then replace me with someone else."
Dr. Proulx : "In a sense, I would like to see you replaced, Lucretia but not because you are deceased. Or discarded. I'd like to see you be discharged and deemed capable of integrating with the world out there. You can't, however, if these are the things that will occur."
Lucretia : "I'm use to being a prisoner. Your tactics, they're under development. Incomplete. Needs improvement."
Judging from the amount of silence that stretches on, it can be assumed that Scott Proulx is writing on the legal pad of paper brought to the session. A higher dosage, if the contents of this specific conversation hoold any bearing. Questions for himself, of what to approach next session. So on.
Dr. Proulx : "I've assigned for Anais to remove the restraints one hour. In the meantime, she'd going to giv--"
Rattling. An external burst of violent energy. The bindings creak and the metallic slap sounds too strong to succumb to the fight.
Lucretia : "No, no, no, no, no."
Dr. Proulx : "Miss This-"
Lucretia : "I SAID NO, SCOTT. NO NEEDLE."
Dr. Proulx : "We were forced to rely on injections after you removed and ingested Mikael's fingers."
Lucretia : "I don't want the haze. I'm tumbling down. No, no. .. "
A rusted hinge squeals. The door must have been opening, and Anais' footsteps are more audible every step they take.
Dr. Proulx : "Anais, if you'll take Miss Thisben back to her room after the sedative, I'd appreciate it."
Lucretia : "You don't understand. It was suppose to happen. I was told. A voice, a face. Encouragement. It needed to happen. Mrs. Wilkins got what she wanted. I helped. I HELPED."
The longer the wait stretches for the sedative to be delivered, the more convoluted verbal communication becomes.
Dr. Proulx : "3 mg of Haloperidol, please Anais."
A pause.
Dr. Proulx : "We'll continue our conversation tomorrow, but you will be removed from group for the time being, Lucretia. Rest, please, we will see each other tomorrow."
The groggy musings are too far to hear, and incoherent besides. The button's never pushed in, the device doesn't shut down automatically. Neither of them know.
Anais : "She's not showing any signs of improvement."
Dr. Proulx : "We still have options. It's only been three months, Anais."
Anais : "It's three months too long. She's unsettling. I've never seen a patient like that before. And Mikael's fingers? Some dogs have to be put down, Scott."
Anais : "****, it's still on."
Click.

[Pyper]

|| \\//\\// |E //\\// || ~|| - 3
~

Staples. Tape.
Pages, physical evidence of the times I can't remember.
Or do remember.
I called the ward. Someone answered.
Anais.
I pretended to be a doctor.
Medical jargon. Word vomit.
Asked permission for all files. Refused.
I hung up. Anais.
Her thougts were whispers. I could barely hear.
I know my name. Lucretia. It pulsated the loudest.
So I used it.
I had to reach further. My nose bled.
I hunted afterwards.
She was another storage space, but different. Useful.
I wanted my files. I forced memories in.
Needles. Shocks. Drowning. Fire.
I created something new. Not a memory.
A loop, over and over.
My face, it's faint but she knows.
Over and over.
"Anais," help.
She mistook it for her own thinking. Memories.


Fax came four hours after. All files included.

[Pyper]

- 30th, -
~

I gave him a wolf pelt.
He threads, with needles and spools.
Decently, from what he said.
He wants to make something.
Never said what.
Suggestions, options.
I'll bring him more.
He said attacking was okay.
Because it's a hello.
Phoenix will understand.
My festering cut healed.
It was on my leg but it was shallow.
Roderic cut my arm.
Not deep enough to need stitches.
I miss stitching . .
Strix said hi.
All I remember was red.
My favorite color.
I have scissors, a rusty kitchen knife.


I should see Strix.

[Pyper]

6 66 666 6666 66666 666666
999666
666666 66666 6666 666 66 6
~

It's a challenge.
I'm sitting here, in one of the buildings.
Staring at it.
I have to keep the flies away.
Worse, maggots.
I don't know if I have enough thread.
The needle is dirty from last time.
I've never had anything removed.
Except teeth.
My umbilical cord.
My leg is by me. I wrapped it in my shirt.
Roderic said hello.
I expected another shallow cut.
Knick.
No.
I'm slow.
But I was rewarded.
I can stitch now.



It's perfect.

[Pyper]

Ju8/09/10.
~

Problemproblemproblem.
No. No.
The skin peeled, shredded.
Dried like husks.
Ash, the end of a cigarette.
The shrouded face of Anais behind it.
Gone. The work is gone.
Then Phoenix got mad.
Doesn't want limbs pulled, ripped.
She said I could hit though.
Hitting can work.

XlXaXtXeXrX

I got a job.
Clerical.
I asked Phoenix what it meant but forgot what she said.
I was happy.
Am happy.
I do something else with my nights.
I want to ask Roderic to teach me stitching.
Phoenix said no more on me.
He might have material.
I hope.

XlXaXtXeXrX

Paige is seeing someone.
A woman.
She told me, and she was smiling.
I asked Phoenix are we happy.
Phoenix said that if Paige is happy, then I should be happy.
That's what friends do.
Paige and I are friends.


So I'm happy.

[Pyper]

Fri13
~

I can see her face.
She's smiling.
It's always that same one, like she knows something.
What does she know? I could find out now.
Peer inside, but I want her to feel it.
I can hear her voice.
"Some dogs should be put down."
She's saying it, in my head.
I play it over, and over, and over.
I can smell her.
I knew when she was coming.
She took up a room. All there was is her.
Choking you, forcing you to revel in her.
I can feel her hands.
They held me down.
Put the straps on.
Held the needle, and injected.
I took her blood in my mouth before.
I've tasted her.
When I bit, I broke skin.
Never often, just enough to keep her tense.
Watching, and preparing.

Now I imagine.
I make pictures, I try to see it.
Her face, when my hands wrap around her throat.
And squeeze. I'm stronger now.
Stronger than her.
I want the fear of death to saturate her pores.
She should beg. I've never heard her beg.
Then I want to feed.
Until she's like me.
With everything I have.
Then, I'll start peeling.

Sweet Anais.

[Pyper]

DD.
~

Father's day.
Someone said it to me.
I forgot that was a day.
I had a father.
Have.
I see his face.
Always shadows.
The light outside made him dark.
Then the door cuts him out.
His eyes. On me.
And then he shuts the closet.
Click, the lock.
Gone for hours.
Maybe minutes. Or seconds.
They all seemed the same.
I read books.
With light, from a lighter.
I found poems.
I like this one:

My mother she butchered me,
My father he ate me,
My sister, little Ann Marie,
She gathered up the bones of me
And tied them in a silken cloth
To lay under the juniper.

What is he doing now?