Chapter 11
David didn't sleep. He barely blinked. He didn't know how long he had been awake in the room, but he knew it was long enough to be unhealthy. He had little reason to care, though. His eyes were red, irritated and sore from the tears that had finally now calmed down. To say that the poor man was disturbed would be an understatement. He felt broken and dirty, his mind not even a safe place to hide anymore. He didn't feel like himself. He wasn't the warden. He wasn't even Warden. He was just...
Nothing.
Rowan unlocked the door and entered, setting down a tray of fresh food in place of the old one. He sighed, and didn't leave. "David?" he called quietly to the emotionally exhausted patient.
David stared at the food, no real reaction coming from him. His eyes slowly looked up at the person who spoke. He only blinked once, his stare relatively empty. It was a wonder he even saw Rowan at all.
"You're not eating," Rowan continued, his voice sounding unusually soft coming from such a big man.
David merely shrugged, his eyes focussing on the food but obviously not interested in it. He wouldn't be able to eat it anyway with that horrible thing trapping his arms.
"You haven't been taking your medication, either," Rowan said, a hint of scolding in his voice. He looked at David. "You're going to wither away."
"It doesn't matter." David barely recognized his own voice. He almost swore it was someone else who spoke. He frowned and didn't say anything else, closing his eyes. He didn't sleep, though. He just sat there.
Rowan crouched beside him, putting a tenative hand on his shoulder. "Don't you want to get better and leave this place?"
"There's nothing outside for me," David answered hollowly, barely opening his eyes. Everything he knew was a lie at this point. He had nothing to look forward to. No one would be waiting for him. No one he would remember. He would have started crying then, but there were no tears left.
Rowan sat down and sat David up, holding him by his shoulders. "There's so much out there. There's colours and people and things you've never seen or tasted or heard." His tone turned wistful. "The Indian spice markets, the jungles of Brazil...there's life out there."
"But it's not home." David's expression didn't change and his eyes looked as empty as he felt. His entire life had been a lie and he dreaded starting everything over. He wouldn't make it in the real world, recovered or not. "I don't belong here." Or anywhere, anymore.
Rowan seemed to remember himself and let go of David, turning and picking up the tray. "I know you're lonely in here. You've been lucid for days. So if you eat, I'll keep you company," Rowan offered.
David pulled his legs closer to himself, staring off at one of the many white walls. He appeared to be thinking about something before he spoke again. "Are you going to take off the jacket?" He was still staring at the wall.
"If you take your medication," Rowan said, something inside of him reminded of a song about making deals with the devil.
"No," he said flatly, narrowing his eyes at the wall now. "I'm not taking that." There was no telling what it would do to him. He didn't trust these strangers. He refused to.
"It's here to help you," Rowan said, pushing the tray of food onto David. "These pills aren't part of the experimental treatment. These are to help you stay lucid. worked hard to get you onto these," he said, pushing the pills at him next.
David frowned, turning his head to look down at the tray. "Maybe I don't want to be lucid," he muttered more to himself, looking away again. "I'm not hungry, either."
"You can't go to Superjail if you're dead, can you," Rowan said matter of factly.
"It doesn't matter." David shrugged, curling his toes from the cold floor. "Dead or not, I'd still be there. Permanent sleep. I don't care."
Rowan sighed in defeat. He wasn't a psychologist, and David didn't want help. "Trust me, this place won't let you die," he said finally, taking the tray and pills with him as he stood. "You'll be part machine if it means success."
David hated them. He never knew he could feel so much hate in that moment, but it quickly died away, the emptyness resurfacing. He just slumped in his corner, his head lowered. Again, he wanted to cry, but he was all dried up. "Why...?" His voice was quiet, small. He barely heard it leave his lips.
Rowan shrugged, though his shoulders felt heavy. "I don't know what's wrong with this place," he said, knocking on the door to be let out. "But I know me and are trying our best."
David chewed on his lip, shaking again. He looked up at the nurse, his eyes less empty and more desperate. "Don't...don't go yet...please?" His voice was trembling with the rest of his body, but there were still no tears.
The door was opened, but Rowan paused. "Eat and I'll stay," he offered again, the nurse outside waiting for a response.
"Fine," he sighed in defeat, his eyes now directed to the floor.
Rowan nodded to the nurse outside, who shut them in and locked the door. He returned with the tray to David, re-seating himself. "Would you like help eating?" he asked.
David stared tiredly at the tray, knowing he wouldn't be able to eat on his own unless he was out of the jacket and he refused to take the medication. He nodded silently, but he hated the fact he would have to be fed.
Rowan picked up the plastic spoon and began to divide David's food into transportable pieces, tempted to say something about a train coming to the station when he held the first spoonful for David.
David dreaded this with all his being but eventually opened his mouth to take the spoon. It was an unpleasant taste as everything to him had no real flavor. He tried not to gag on it and swallowed.
"One down, fourty to go," Rowan said with an encouraging smile.
"There is no way I'm eating all of that," David complained, glaring at the tray. "It's disgusting..."
Rowan gestured with the spoon in David's face. "You just let me know when you want to be alone again," he said with a teasing threat.
David huffed, not at all amused. "Is there at least something to drink so I can get the damn taste out of my mouth?"
"I suppose they didn't think you could handle a cup. Being incapacitated as you are," Rowan said with a smile, pushing the spoon at him. "I'll get you some orange juice when you're finished."
David muttered something under his breath before he opened his mouth again for the spoon. He didn't want to think what it was he was actually eating. Maybe it was best to close his eyes and imagine eating something else.
"What's it like?" Rowan asked, gathering another spoonful of 'food'. "Being able to create an entire world for yourself."
David sat in silence for a moment, not sure how to answer that. Any other time he would have answered in a heart beat. Now? "It is hard to explain..." He didn't want to explain. Everyone thought it was his imagination anyway.
"I think we all live in our own worlds. Some are just more mundane then others," Rowan said with a chuckle, pushing another spoonful at David.
"My world is real, though," David argued before he ate from the spoon again, grimacing at the horrible taste.
"So is mine," Rowan said with a shrug, another spoonful hovering outside David's mouth.
David didn't look at all convinced and hesitated to open his mouth again. He didn't know how much longer he could stand eating all that. He forced himself to take another spoonfull, shuddering.
"Like I said, some are mundane," Rowan said with a laugh, setting the tray aside, noticing that David looked like he would throw up if he pushed another spoonful of the muck on him. "I think our worlds come together like ven diagrams. I live in my own, where I make coffee, do my laundry, then it interacts with other people's worlds, overlapping and we share experiences. Then there's people like you, where some how...some how your world is overlapping a thousand others, in a thousand different worlds and dimensions." Rowan laughed again, shrugging.
David wasn't sure if he was following the nurse's form of logic, but he just nodded to go with it, glad that Rowan had stopped giving him the horrible substance. "Can I have orange juice now?"
Rowan nodded and stood, going to the door, knocking, asking, recieving and going back to David, holding the glass out, a straw sliding around the rim.
"Thank you," he muttered before leaning forward to grasp the straw with his teeth. When he finally got it, he drank slowly, glad to taste something familiar. He sat back when he was done, quiet.
Rowan set the glass on the tray and leaned back on the heel of his hands. "What me and are trying to do is balance your worlds out. Superjail and this one. All we're trying to cure is the catatonic state you enter, and we're trying to curb the...aggresiveness when you're disturbed from your catatonic state," he explained. "We've never had a patient like you, so not all of the medication has worked like we thought it would. It's trial and error."
"But I don't want to balance it. I don't want to be here," David said, frustrated. "I don't like this world, I'm not a part of it. No one seems to get that." He wished his arms were free. "I just want to stay in Superjail and no where else..."
"Don't you think there's a reason the Twins keep sending you back here?"
David flinched at the mention of the Twins, hissing through his teeth. "They don't have a reason. They just do things to ruin everything."
Rowan conceded with a shrug and a mysterious smile. He picked up the tray as he stood. "I'll see if I can bring you something better tomorrow," he said as he went to the door.
David watched the nurse leaving, biting his lip and feeling hopeless again. He knew he would never get out of this place with the way things were. He was afraid, but he stayed silent, curling up in the corner.
Rowan looked back as the door was opened, and left with a sympathetic smile.
He returned, though, the next day at the same time, a plastic container in his hands instead of a tray, a cup of pills and a glass of apple juice.
David was asleep on the floor in what looked like a very uncomfortable position. He was a very quiet sleeper. He faintly stirred when he sensed someone in the room. He wasn't awake yet, but he was slowly getting there.
Rowan set the plastic container, pills and juice a few feet away from David, sitting and opening the container, the smell of warm pancakes and strawberries oozing from it.
Rowan sat quietly, watching David sleep in pretense of waiting for him to wake up.
The smell had definitely woken him up faster and he opened his eyes, blinking them tiredly. He tried to sit up, but it was hard to get off of the floor with his arms bound. He wasn't even sure what he was seeing was real. The last thing he expected was to see a plate of pancakes in front of him.
"Afternoon," Rowan greeted with a soft smile, cutting up the pancakes with the side of his fork. "I wasn't sure what to bring, and I figured only monsters and aliens don't like pancakes," he said casually, holding up a fork of microwaved steaming pancake to David's mouth.
David eyed the piece of pancake suspiciously. He wasn't sure if he was really awake at this point. Finally, though, he took the bite. His taste buds wouldn't lie to him. He knew that taste and he believed it. He couldn't remember the last time he had pancakes.
Rowan smiled, getting another forkful, making sure a slice of strawberry topped it all off. "Better then hospital gruel?" he asked with a chuckle.
David nodded, taking another bite. His mood was definitely getting better now, his much needed sleep probably helping that along. "It's really good," he said after swallowing.
Rowan smiled and continued to feed him, plunking a straw into the juice. "I think you'd be fine out there," he said, thumbing away a stray crumb on David's cheek, blushing as he withdrew his hand. "I think you've just been in here for too long."
David frowned. He wasn't sure how to react to what Rowan said. He felt a little annoyed, but he wasn't going to say something to be mean. rowan was just trying to be nice. But for what reason? He chewed quietly before he said anything. "Did he say I've been here for three years?"
Rowan nodded, lifting the juice to David's mouth. "You only recently started talking to us, though. You spent most of those years in Superjail, being kept alive here with IV's of medication and nourishment." Rowan was quiet, thoughtful. "It was painful to watch."
David drank from the straw, contimplating what he wanted to say. He licked his lips, noticing they were uncomfortably dry. "I've been in Superjail longer than three years," he said finally, looking at Rowan. "A lot longer."
Rowan nodded. "You were only brought in three years ago, you could have been catatonic several times before, just for shorter periods of time, so no one noticed."
"But..." David chewed his lip for a moment. "I don't..." He looked confused and upset, too many blank spots in his memory. "There's no life here that I remember. Just my father..."
"Trauma can block out certain memories," Rowan explained, feeding David a strawberry. "That's why he is constantly going over the same things. He thinks there's some trauma that made you need to create Superjail to be safe in."
David nearly choked. He honestly shouldn't be surprised. Psychologists were crazy. Of course Dr. Andrews would come up with something like that. He coughed. "That's crazy. I made Superjail because real jail is horrible," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Where those that do things like 'experimental treatment' and the like actually get punished."
Rowan looked strangley impassive. "There's a reason they tell you to never look back, so you don't see the terrible things weve done to progress." he said, shame filtering through.
David was glaring now. Just when he thought he had someone to trust something like this happens. "What else did your people do to me?" he asked, his voice taking a darker tone.
Rowan shook his head, his eyes on his crossed calves. "I don't know. They wouldn't let me be present for the first ones. They used for those." His face coloured, he started cleaning up around him, getting ready to leave. "I tried to protect you, but I..." It took him a moment to collect himself. "We don't know how to make you better. I want you to get out of this place, as soon as you can, so you can live a normal life." He shook his head, and went to the door.
David had listened, not saying a word. His face fell, his complexion imposisibly more pale by the time Rowan was at the door. There were split second flashes across his vision, brief memories or scenes that didn't make sense. He shook his head, curling in on himself. He closed his eyes, choosing to ignore everything for the rest of the day.