Bliss: Chapter 3

“Let them fix themselves, LETTHEMFIXTHEMSELVESlethemfixthemselves. Let. Them. fix. Them. Selves…”

Michelle felt goosebumps break out on her arms, but she forced herself to follow the herd—Dr. Thomas, the institution’s security officers and ten of her fellow med students, all filing into what was becoming a cramped room to observe Exhibit A. She felt a twinge of guilt as she stepped on the white shag carpet in her dirty shoes, but soon forgot it as the stench of urine drifted up her nose.

The mumbling, sometimes a whisper, sometimes almost a ragged shout, triggered a primal urge in her to place the man—to make sure he wasn't right behind her. As they continued to shuffle into the room Michelle was scanning. Her eyes were first drawn to the bright, almost childish mural of green hills, a blue sky and sun on the back wall. Then she saw a tan sofa overflowing with pillows, and noticed that like the sofa, the walls were covered in what looked like a soft, leathery material. There was no window.

Her panic swelled as the mumbling continued and the others squeezed into the room, bumping up against her. Where was he? She craned her head up to see over the group of white lab coats around her. Not on the sofa, not on the bed…oh wait. He was tucked into the bed, which was jammed right into the northeast corner of the room (as far away from the door as possible, thank God) and also covered in beige pillows, some of which had spilled onto the carpet. He held the duvet up to his chin like a child hiding from the bogeyman. Michelle frowned when her eyes finally picked him out. He sounded like somebody’s grandfather, yet had a decidedly un-grandfatherly face. He wasn't old, but that didn't mean he looked good. His hair was long, dirty-blond and matted to his head and he had a bushy, uneven beard.

She shifted her eyes left and right to as they settled in, trying to get a read on those around her. On her left Mark seemed stoic, but then again she expected that of him. His bushy brows were drawn slightly inward, his mouth set in its usual serious scowl. But the girl on the right, Anna, or Annie or something, didn't seem too ruffled either. Her only tell was that she turned up her nose and pursed her lips slightly. Was no one else horrified at the state of this man? Weren't they afraid of what he might do? Did no one else feel that hard fist of dread gripping their gut? Or were they just hiding it as well as she was? The four security officers that escorted them did nothing to ease her anxiety. In fact the sight of them--all tall and gleaming in white scrubs, dark, glinting glasses and with their tranqua-light batons strapped at their waists--actually heightened her awareness that they were needed.

Michelle eyed the patient with equal parts cold, scientific analysis and disgust. And he gazed back. He met every student’s eyes in turn with a steady, calculated stare that so undermined his raving that when he focused on Michelle, she was sure the man’s ramblings were a cryptic message just for her, and her façade of resolve was shattered. She felt her eyelids flutter shut and her head turn away.

“This is Vincent,” said Dr. Thomas. Michelle opened her eyes to find him standing at the head of the bed, gesturing to the man. “He’s been sent to the solitary ward of the institution because he currently isn't taking Bliss.”

She heard someone grunt their disapproval, and another person give a small gasp. From the corner of her eye saw Mark shaking his head. And her own eyes went wide. This man was an un-dependant? Wasn't it dangerous for them to be here? She wondered how long he’d been refusing to take Bliss.

“Dr. Thomas?” she called out, but before she could speak another word he held up a hand.

“Everyone, I’ll answer your questions momentarily. Let’s move on.”

However he made no move to leave his spot at the head of the bed, and the security officers who flanked him on each side might as well have been made of wax, they were so still. She tried to mask her unease with a look of mere confusion. The others were also looking around at each other with questions in their eyes, and occasionally glancing back at Vincent. Dr. Thomas continued to stand, hands behind his back, saying nothing. Vincent continued his quiet monologue.

The waiting was stretching well past the line into uncomfortable territory. All Michelle wanted to do was escape the smell of piss, leave this cramped, windowless room and get away from this crazy person. Once again she wondered why visiting Monroe institution was a mandatory trip for someone who was studying to become a cardiologist. She wasn't too fond of Dr. Thomas to be honest. He was always so vague and dismissive. When she’d, tactfully she felt, asked what the merit was in her class observing at a mental institution when their studies really had nothing to do with psychiatry, he’d brushed her off by telling her that medical students all over the country made this trip to Monroe, and to trust that it was a necessary part of any med student’s education.

At last the Doctor give a little nod and leisurely made his way back to the front of the room. He cut a path through the group, gliding like a holy man, his face serene as the students watched him in silence. An officer opened the door for him and the others followed him out. The students took that as their cue and left the room as well. Michelle noticed there was a lot more bumping and jostling going out than coming in.

“This way please everyone,” she heard Dr. Thomas say, though she couldn't see him through the crowd in the narrow hallway. Michelle’s heart sank a little as they passed the stairs. She wanted to get out of this dimly lit, creepy wing of the hospital. When they’d first arrived, they’d had to go through the common area and the cafeteria. There were patients there and some had seemed alright— just hanging out playing cards. But there was one woman singing to herself by the window, and another man who had been sitting in an armchair staring into space, who would jolt every now and again. She had been really uncomfortable. But that was nothing compared to this narrow hallway dotted with burgundy doors behind which lurked new levels of crazy. At least there had been windows and sunlight downstairs.

She found herself once again being shuffled into what looked like an abandoned classroom. Michelle could tell by the peeling green paint on the walls and scuffed faux-hardwood floorboards that it was old. There was one big desk and a white board at the back of the room but nothing else. Dr. Thomas made his way to the front of the room and turned to them. After the last student was inside she heard a click as an officer locked the door. Two of them stood at the back of the room while the other two arranged themselves on each side of the Doctor at the front of the room.

“What’s going on?” she heard someone ask, their voice muted by uncertainty.

Dr. Thomas reached into his coat and pulled out a pair of black sunglasses. He opened them up, wiping the lenses with the hem of his lab coat as he spoke.

“Vincent—the charming young man you just met—has just begun his residency, and we've been weaning him off Bliss for a little over a week. His reaction is fairly typical.” He slid the sunglasses on.

For a moment the air was awash with confused silence, slowly coalescing into reluctant understanding until it burst like a fallen beehive, and a rush of angry buzzing came from the students.

“He’s a Doctor?

“Weaning him Off Bliss, what do you mean weaning him off Bliss?!”

“Typical reaction to what?? I don’t understand Doctor.”

“Will we have to stop taking Bliss too?”

“I’m sorry Doctor I think I misunderstood but, did you say you were weaning him off Bliss?” That can’t be possible…

“When will we have to stop taking Bliss?!”

Michelle glared at the Doctor, her nostrils flaring with every hard breath she exhaled. One of the security officers moved forward protectively in front of Dr. Thomas. Her fellow students stared at her in wide-eyed, silent shock. Dr. Thomas met her gaze calmly and silently behind his dark glasses. The room was so quiet they could hear the sound of the old fluorescent light flickering.

“Once you graduate, and start your residency, you will no longer be permitted to take Bliss,” he answered.

Michelle felt something hard and ruthless slam the wind out of her at his confirmation. She could only stare at him, lost for words. She heard someone else speak for her, saying only a hopeless, dejected, “what?”

Someone exhaled loudly. She sought out Mark and saw him with his head in his hands. The red-headed guy next to him had his arms crossed; grabbing his own elbows so tightly it looked like he was trying to give himself a hug. There was none of that medical professionalism now. No one wanted to become the unhinged lunatic they’d seen in the room. No one wanted their Bliss taken away, and most of all no one wanted to face those terrifying voices, to feel them raking across their brain like cold, bony, ghost fingers. The light above buzzed on, oblivious.

“As you know, Bliss is not perfect. In general it causes increased aggression which is very dangerous without the correct mitigation, for example treatment by therapure lightbox. However as medical practitioners we are responsible for the health and well-being of our patients. We can’t afford to have sudden, uncontrollable attacks of aggression at any given time. For Doctors, the risk involved in taking Bliss is just too great.

“If you've decided you no longer want to become a medical professional, now’s the time to call it quits. Once you start your residency there will be no going back. You will live the rest of your lives without Bliss.”

The rest of my life??

Becoming a Doctor was everything to Michelle. She was the first person in her whole family to graduate College, let alone go to med school. She couldn't let her mama and papa down. Not to mention her ‘Auntie Angel’. Her aunt had been her confidant and champion since the day she was born. Her favourite memory, the one she used as a talisman to ward off the dark feelings and doubt, was the day she had told her aunt she had been accepted to med school. Auntie Angel’s face was practically glowing with pride and satisfaction.

“Baby, I always knew you were very special, from the day I first saw that sweet little face in the nursery. I said to your mama, ‘that one’s gonna do great things Marie, I guarantee it.’ And look at you, about to become a Doctor . Gonna be fixin' people right up. Maybe in a few years you can do something about your Auntie Angel’s trick knee here. ”

Auntie Angel was gone now, and Michelle had to become a Doctor. She had to.

Let them fix themselves

“You can’t do this!!”

Mark had always been a fairly mild-mannered guy, but she completely understood when he rushed the Doctor. It was like she was seeing her own rage, the rage that held her rooted to the spot, in action. The officer closest to him whipped his tranqua-light free and waved it in front of Mark’s eyes. She saw him go down, but another was right behind him. The redhead slammed his fist on the desk next to him and shouted. An officer was in front of him. He took a swing but the officer dodged and then the traqua-light was in his face. He slumped to the floor like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Then Michelle was aware of her own legs moving. Oh how she wanted to dig her fingers into that wrinkled throat, feel his windpipe collapse. She yelled in frustration when she couldn't get to him fast enough, caught up in the tide of bodies all out for blood, all wanting to disembowel the man who would steal their dream, and take their Bliss. She saw a slit of bright purple light flash across her vision, and then everything went dark.