Written By: Romario Rodrigues Varela Live Lived
The Doctor
It was a chilling winter evening. The flickering lampposts unintentionally created a sense of dread and ominousness, almost as if they knew what was coming. The streets and roads were hauntingly empty. Stores were closed early and life was put on hold to prepare for the frosty punishment .The radio said this was going to be the coldest night recorded in the town's history. Every soul was probably safe behind familiar walls, nestling in the arms of a loved one. Getting ready to face whatever the world was going to throw at them. If only she had been one of those fortunate souls, alas she had a job to do.
Her breath became visible and her hands had already lost all feeling. The wind was squeezing itself through the cracked glass of her windscreen, cutting through every fibre of her skin. With every breeze she was reminded of how cold the world could be, and how little it cared about the creatures that were forced to inhabit it.
She had asked herself why the world was this cruel countless of times, until she finally realized that it didn’t matter. Searching for explanations is futile when you understand nothing in this life truly has a reason. A reason is just a manmade concept. A desperate attempt at making sense of what is happening around us.To understand life, or to control it.
People love to be in control, or to at least think they are. That is why, in her line of work, she exerted as much control as possible. Thereby taking it away from her subjects. To be in control of the situation or the conversation, means to be in control of the person. And people crack when they feel they are no longer in control.
By recognizing that existence is characterized by the complete opposite, chance and chaos, one as herself could truly understand what it meant to be in control. She had always seen it when she looked at the larger picture: Chaos is reality, and control is something you give yourself to cope with reality. Then you can shape reality to fulfil your own desires. This is why she never blamed anyone for what happened to her. It was just… random . She used it as an opportunity to move up in the world. She took control.
The grandiose doors opened slowly as she was driving towards the entrance. The moment felt near biblical, like being welcomed into the gates of heaven. Ironically though, most would claim that something contradictory existed behind these particular gates. The entry sign might as well could’ve said: 'Abandon hope all ye who enter here.'
See, there were stories about this place. Troubling stories. Not only would whoever entered here supposedly never come out, like the many ‘residents’ that had died here. People also whisper about how the dead never truly leave these cursed grounds. The sick would never recover and the healthy would fall ill .Sooner or later, all who set foot in this old building would become its next victim. Forever becoming the nourishment it uses to prolong its existence.
“Pfft such nonsense”, she thought.
Rumours and folktales, she wasn’t going to allow those to cloud her judgement. This was the golden opportunity to relaunch her career . All the hard work she put in would be rewarded if she succeeded in this task. There was no way in hell she was going to let a few ghost stories steer her away from her goal.
And so, Doctor Francheska Kriskova steadily drove on to the terrain, while the huge doors closed behind her. Rain started pouring out of the skies and unendingly banging against Francheska’s windshield, making it hard for her to see. She was barely able to make out what was written on the sign next to the door:
Empedocles,Psychiatric Hospital
The lightning strike that followed, was like something out of a bad horror movie.
When she entered the building, doctor Kriskova was welcomed by the asylum staff. A bald man with an Amish beard and round glasses approached her with noticeable enthusiasm:
“Hello doctor Kriskova I am doctor Asmodeus, we spoke on the phone. These are nurse Mara and detective Corson.”
“Nice to meet you”, Francheska said politely but uninterested.
“Likewise, we are happy you’re here. To be honest we weren’t sure you’d make it”, said doctor Asmodeus.
“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked a tad bit confused.
“Well”, said the asylum doctor, “you wouldn’t have been the first to cancel.”
Francheska laughed a little.
“Well I honestly find the idea of a haunted mental institution to be quite exhilarating. Who knows? Maybe I’ll run into some questionable creatures during my visit.”
Asmodeus laughed a little as well, but you could tell that he was slightly offended.
“I wasn’t referring to those silly folktales. I was more so referring to our patient, who I suppose you could call a questionable creature indeed. He has quite the… reputation.”
Francheska looked at the detective and nurse, who were both avoiding eye contact. As if this man being mentioned made them nervous.
“Come on”, she said sceptically. Am I really supposed to believe that he messed up every psychiatrist that tried to get through to him? So much so that they too became patients at a mental institution?”
The doctor did not change his serious facial expression.
“Not just any institution miss Kriskova, this one.”
“You’re kidding… right?”
The detective, who started to lose his patience, interrupted the conversation.
“It doesn’t matter if you believe it or not, what matters is if you can help us!”
“Indeed”, said Asmodeus, “I wish I myself could’ve penetrated his mind but I tried to no avail. But you’re different. I’ve been following your career doctor Kriskova. I know all about how you confronted your mother's killer and got him to admit to his crime despite his illness.”
Francheska was pleased this man knew of her accomplishments, but found it unfortunate that he chose to bring up that specific case.
“That… was a long time ago. I’ve had many other breakthroughs since then. I did everything independently, even set up my own practice.”
“We also know that you lost that practice in a legal battle with the state”, said detective Corson, seems like you could use another breakthrough.”
She didn’t like the detective’s mocking tone, but he was right. Ever since she lost her office, her life has been spiralling downward. She lost her patients, her house, her husband. Things had gotten so dark, that she once even considered taking her own life. Everything she built and worked so hard to achieve was destroyed. She needed this, and she had already driven all this way....
Still, she wasn’t going to say yes without knowing exactly what she was signing up for.
“Tell me more, about this patient. You were very vague and secretive about it on the phone. All I know is that he has a criminal and murderous history. Also a military past, a general maybe?”
“Lieutenant actually, lieutenant Johnathan Cipher”, the detective responded. “He fought in some big war and went off the rails ever since he came back. He was guilty of committing a large number of horrible inhumane murders. So vast and severe that they had to be swept under the rug, especially because he got away with an insanity plea . He has been in this institution ever since and most people don’t even know about it.”
“That was a long time ago, I wasn’t even working here at the time” doctor Asmodeus interrupted.
“Wait”, she said confused, “you don’t own this place?”
“Oh no, I’m just the head doctor not the owner.”
“Anyway”, Corson continued mildly irritated, it seems his best days are behind him. He’s gotten very sick. But apparently, he doesn’t want to leave this world by his lonesome. He’s constructed some elaborate plan, possibly with outside help, but we don’t know what it is. What we do know is that a lot of people are in danger. When he initially told us this, we thought he was just talking crazy. Then the people he named actually started dying one by one. He maintained that this was just the first phase of a terrifying plot. He’s been interrogated by law enforcment and evaluated by doctors, but nothing seems to work. You’re our last hope.”
Francheska looked the detective in the eyes, he seemed sincere and even a little distressed. And the doctor kept insisting that he followed all of her achievements and knew of her capabilities. That she wasn’t just their last desperate option, but that they hadn't thought they needed someone with her expertise until now. Lieutenant Cipher was hard to break, yet they believed she could succeed where others had failed.
She had to make a choice. People’s lives were on the line, and Johnathan was looking worse by the day. Time was of the essence. Still, something about this situation and about this place felt… off.
That’s when she directed her gaze towards the nurse, who had been quiet this entire time. Francheska was good at reading people, it was part of her job. And it wasn’t hard to read what the nurse had written all over her face, or at least part of her face. Her mouth was covered with a surgical mask, but her pupils spoke a thousand words. It was a look Francheska had well familiarized herself with.
Fear.
Most likely the nurse had stood face to face mister Cipher as well. Maybe she had gone into his room to clean his bed, and maybe he had spoken to her. His voice soft yet intimidating. Perhaps he had said something that made her fear for her own safety, or for the safety of someone she cared about. And maybe she wasn’t allowed to speak about it. Whatever the reason, Francheksa could undoubtedly tell that this woman was scared for her life. And was silently begging for someone to help. She recognized it all too well.
Francheska sighed softly and turned towards the men who were anxiously awaiting her decision.
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
The Patient
The clock was ticking, both figuratively and literally. Piercing through her eardrums as the seconds went by with noise and distraction. It was practically the only sound in the room, aside from the calm breathing of opposing souls.
The white room, the one they used for sessions and integrations. White walls, white floor, even white furniture . Like stepping into God´s office. She learned in school that the colour white had a psychological effect. It removes intensity and tension. White is commonly seen as being free of impurities, the colour of pure light. That concept reeked of white superiority complexes, but she understood how it could affect the mind of the mentally unstable.
Across from her however sat the polar opposite of pure. Unless you were speaking of pure evil. This man, this...creature, was the embodiment of sin and filth.
She hated people like him. The mentally ill were often the victims, or at least the ones that needed help. Even the criminally insane deserved proper consideration and empathy. But the head doctor and the detective told her about the things this man did. Unforgivable, unspeakable things. When they told her about the woman he abused and then dissected, all while she was alive to experience it, she almost threw up in her mouth. And that wasn´t even the worst crime he committed.
This man was a monster.
He had no regard for human life, and was probably born without a conscience. But even that wasn’t an excuse for his atrocities. Francheska was going to enjoy this, probably more than she should.
Ten minutes had passed and they hadn’t said a word to each other. They were sizing each other up. Observing the other person in the room while themselves being observed by the head doctor, the detective and the nurse. Johnathan was just sitting there, staring into doctor Kriskova’s eyes with his pitch black pupils. As if he stared deep into her soul, and didn’t like what he saw. It was unnerving. The last person to make her feel so uncomfortable, was the man that killed her moth...
“No! Focus.”
Francheksa had to remain calm, collected and professional. Now was not the time for personal feelings, there were lives at stake. And it’s not like she was in any real danger. He was restrained with chains and a straightjacket, there’s nothing he could do to her.
There’s nothing. He could. Do to her.
She repeated this sentence in her mind, then took a deep breath before commencing:
“So”, are you enjoying the view Johnathan?”
Mister Cipher smiled faintly and discomfortingly.
“You’re not really my type, but I do like treading uncharted waters.”
“Ugh what a creep”, was her internal response. She skimmed through his files, pretending to go over them quickly. As if she hadn’t dozens of times already. He waited unwearyingly and unbothered.
“Let me guess”, she said seemingly uninterested. “Rough childhood, daddy never loved you, bullied by the bigger kids, bad financial circumstances, never was able to be with that one girl who you convinced yourself of really being your soulmate? And you were in the army, so let's sprinkle some good old PTSD in there. Am I hitting any marks here or what?”
“Ha, three out of six . Not bad doctor . That’s pretty much what made me who I am yes.”
Francheska nodded: “ Yeah, and now the truth please.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well even if some of those clichés were true, none of them are the real reason you do what you do. I could tell based on the lack of reaction in your irises. I mean sure there was a reaction, but not a real one. Just a mask you probably put on for the other psychiatrists. If your reasons were really that simple and straightforward, they would’ve gotten something out of you already. Apparently they couldn’t see how good of an actor you are, but I can. So again, the truth now please. And this time can we cut the shit?”
Johnathan seemed slightly impressed.
“You could tell all that from one sentence and the look in my eyes?”
“I’m the best, that’s why they called me” Francheksa said with true sincerity and a little arrogance.
“Finally someone who actually knows that they’re doing. Where have you been all my life?”
“What was the first murder you committed”, Francheska continued undisturbed.
“Ooh, right to the juicy stuff. Don’t you want to know what my favourite colour is?”
“Answer the question Johnathan.”
“Sapphire”
“The less you cooperate the harder you’ll make this on yourself, trust me.”
“You didn’t let me finish doctor”, Johnathan said reassuringly, “Sapphire … that was the colour of her eyes. Of my first…”
He stared into the distance,like he was dreaming of better times.
“Beautiful orbs they were. You could see the entire world in those eyeballs, if you knew how to look. I remember exactly how she pointed at me. How she stared at me in her final moment, right before she became my first. Disbelief, hopelessness, dread and yet…acceptance. It was beautiful, she was beautiful. And you… you look just like her.”
That last sentence caused her some discomfort. An eery feeling took over her stomach and shivers ran down her spine. But doctor Kriskova didn’t budge. These were textbook serial killer tactics. Trying to convince the interrogator that they fit the victim description, in hopes of making them feel uneasy and give up the control they have over the conversation. She wasn’t falling for that.
“I’m sure she was a good looking woman then, how many followed after the first?”
“Not as much as they told you. Rumours are rumours what can I say.”
She made a couple of notes, partially to avoid eye contact.
“And a murderer is a murderer, Doesn’t really matter how much you’ve killed does it?”
“I suppose it doesn’t. However, it does matter Who you’ve killed. I admit I’ve taken lives without motive. Just to practice, to see if I could do it. No real reason, just… random. Sometimes.”
“And sometimes you did have a motive?”
“Call it motive, I’d rather call it purpose.
“ Like during the war?”
“Exactly, but also after that. Most of my kills served a purpose. Whether it was a selfish one, or if it was for a greater… well not good . Let’s just say a greater goal. I’m sure you understand what I mean.”
“Why are you sure I understand?”
“Because you’re the best remember? That’s why they called you.”
“Right. Why don’t you tell me about one of these purposeful killings.”
Lieutenant Cipher held his tongue for a moment. The doctor patiently gave him time to think about his answer. It wasn’t before long that another unsettling smile formed itself on Johnathan’s pale face.
“I have the perfect story.”
And there it was again, the cliché strike of lightning.
The Story
Once upon a midnight dreary
A little girl who purposely trapped herself in the attic
Was brushing the hair of her pale porcelain doll
She hummed and sang the sweetest of melodies
To tune out the horrors from the world below
You see, the child wasn’t alone
She had two perfectly damaged human beings as parents
A father, who was deeply disturbed by images of trauma
And the voices of the dead whispering in his ears
Who kept corpses of runaway pets underneath his bed
Each with a bitemark on their throats
A man who once strangled the girl until she turned blue
Because he briefly thought she was one of his demons
Yet she never blamed him
Knew he was plagued by things outside of his control
Knew his heart was as big as his fear of the unknown
She loved him, more than anything in the world
But ask the girl about her mother
And her heart would pound against her ribcage
Mother was the hardworking woman during the day
And the monster living in the house at night
Striking down father for behaving the only way he knew how to
Burn him with cigarettes
Beat him with sticks
Treat him like a dog, even pushing his face into his own faeces
And she would beat the daughter too, for picking his side
One time mother hit her so incredibly hard
With a baseball bat she found in the street
That the blood ran down the daughter’s body
Like water from stone
Mother was a medic so she treated it herself
Just like she always (mis)treated father
Inflicting pain just to heal it
And then do it all over again
An endless cycle of pain and torture
The girl eventually decided to stop getting in her way
Stopped giving her a reason to lash out at her
Instead of just at father
Just play in the attic and let mother have her fun
Until tonight
The night of her 11th birthday
When she was playing with the doll daddy gifted her
When he was still somewhat in his right mind
Noise coming from downstairs was never unusual
Plates hitting the floor, loud steps shaking the building
Mother’s angry voice echoing through the house…
This was however the first time, that she heard her father
Scream
And not just a scream of anguish, but a scream for help
The daughter closed her eyes and covered her ears
Crying and waiting for the yelling to stop
But it didn’t, and it wasn’t going to
Not unless someone were to force the silence
Thus the little girl
Unnoticed by her caretakers
Slowly descended towards the madness
Her mother crouching over her squealing father
Holding the same bloody baseball bat mother had hit her with so much
She was hurting him
She was always hurting him
And he could never hurt her back
Someone needed to hurt her back
This was the reason
The girl took her father’s doll
And slammed it against the back of her mother’s head
With every ounce of strength in her body
Porcelain fragments scattering all over the living room floor
The mother fell on her stomach
And turned around dazed and confused
To see her daughter standing over her
With a sharp piece of the broken porcelain in her hand
“This is for hurting daddy!”
“And this is for hurting me!”
“And this is for never stopping!”
“And this!”
“And this!”
“AND THIS!”
“AND TH-”
…
Never would she forget how her mother looked at her
In her final moments
Disbelief, hopelessness, dread
And yet… acceptance
It was beautiful
She… was beautiful
You could see the entire world in those sapphire eyeballs
If you knew how to look
Seven years had passed before someone finally came looking
The daughter had long since left
All they found was the father
In the attic
Brushing the hair of a pale rotten corpse
The Verdict
…
….
Silence.
…
..
Doctor Kriskova was visibly taken aback by Johnathan’s tragic and disturbing story. Her heart was nearly beating through her chest, while she recognized the taste of blood on her tongue. Her hands were shaking as she tightened the grip on her notepad. Her vision blurred and her breathing increased irrepressibly . All the control she previously believed she had, just vanished into thin air. Lieutenant Cipher on the other hand, was as composed as when they started.
“No more questions, doctor?” Cipher said with sinister undertones.
“Who… where?”, Francheska could barely utter the words. “W who told you that story?”
“You did, when you walked in here.”
“I don’t… I don’t understa..”
Before Francheska could reassemble her scattered thoughts, the door to the white room opened slowly. She hadn´t even gotten any real information out of the patient yet, so maybe Asmodeus or Corson were coming to pull her out. Imagine the doctor´s surprise, when it was the nurse who entered instead .
The nurse with a mask covering her mouth, who was silently screaming for help earlier. The nurse whose pupils were previously bleeding with fear, but appeared none expressive at the moment. Eyes of which Francheska only now noticed their haunting colour, under the light of the bright white light. A very peculiar shade of blue. Sapphire. The same colour as…
“M mom?”
Francheksa burst into tears when nurse Mara removed her surgical mask, and revealed herself to be the woman who gave birth to her.
“This isn’t real! It isn’t, it can’t be!”
Lieutenant Cipher freed himself from his constraints and gestured the nurse to come stand by his side. He twisted her hair between his long pale fingers as Francheska sat frozen in her chair, horrified by the image of her dead mother.
“You killed your mother and let your own father, a sick man pay for your crime. Then you became the psychiatrist who shaped his mind into believing he did it. Heh, and they call Me evil.
“I helped him! I did it for him, for us! He got the help he needed, he wasn’t fit to live in the real world! The real world only caused him pain!”
“No Francheska, you caused him pain. You got him admitted to a place just like this. Where the ill are discarded and forgotten. You used him to jumpstart your career, and then never looked back. He died during shock therapy while you, a murderer, roamed the world free and without worry.”
“I…no! I didn’t know I…wait…
W-What is this place? Who are you really?”
The man formed an insidious smile from ear to ear, revealing his yellow maggot invested teeth. He spoke deeply and disturbingly, each word sending shivers down the doctor’s body. Until she finally gave in to the cold.
And he would continue speaking to her.
Every day.
Throughout shock therapy with the highest voltages
Acupuncture sessions with knives instead needles
Relaxing hot tub baths filled with scolding lava.
And during their therapy sessions in the white room.
Every time he spoke she would hear the same voices her father heard in his insanity.
And the same voice that whispered in her ear on that fateful night.
The voice of the weatherman on the car radio she was listening to on her way over here.
And the voice on the phone that lured her into the belly of the beast.
All belonging to the same man.
Lieutenant Cipher
Liu Cipher
Lu
Ci
…
The end.
☺
