rough draft Chapter 8

The twilight of the previous week held an eclipse over St. Francis. Everyone were aware of the dire situation which presented itself. For John a dreary cloud hung over him with a since of melancholy. This was not a new feeling, but it seemed to cut him even deeper as responsibility crept upon him. He was used to being responsible over patients and carrying the weight of their emotional baggage. He had the fortitude, knowledge and strength to dip into the realm of unconscious without becoming tangled in a web of emotions. John had seen many young doctors whom made the mistake of getting too involved with the lives of patients. This of which, usually coming to headway when the doctor could no longer distinguish his own feeling from that of the patients he had a duty to find resolve. John's accountability was much different this time. He could feel all eyes peering at him, both patient and staff with the same longing. They were all looking for a queue or sign. John had trouble digesting his emotions allowing the unpleasantness of the situation to linger on through the halls of the hospital. He knew he must find away to overcome this issue. The control of his emotions and demeanor was to be a sacrifice of his dismal inclination. It had to be that way so that the tension could dissipate allowing moral to rise. There was no one to be mad at except himself, but could he even blame himself? The trouble was him handling the macabre death, He could not bear seeing the sadness in dahlias eyes, the guilt of the lies he told, and for allowing the event to even take place. John had been purposefully blind to the happenings which occurred behind closed doors. He kept ruminating over his cowardice. John was still running from his problems. Checking into the patients in the west wing became an escape. The motive of his book was becoming a focus which released his concentration from the horrors and mishaps of day to day life. John walked the hallway peering through the rusty bars, the air was musky and stale. Just beyond the monsters of society lay and wait. John stoped just before the speckled bars and pulled a leather pouch from his pocket. His course weathered hands dipped in and gathered up the toast colored tobacco. His sausage fingers eagerly stuffing the lose shreds into an uncrumbled piece of paper stretched between his hands. He quickly rolled it into its tube shape , if you could even call it that. It came together unsuccessfully the cigarette severely mishapened, mocha tobacco dangling out of the end. John gently struck a match the sulfur smell eminating into the air. The match fell out of his hands hitting the ceramic checkard floor the smoke sitting above a pond of water, like fog sitting across an open lake in the early morning. Jamming the cigarette in his mouth he called out " Mr. Wilde, the gate please." The orderly interrupted his daily duties of feeding the damned which sat in their cold and steel traps. John thought it ironic, as he looked upon the broken , whom were unaware of the goings of the outside world, that this is what now passes for compassion. They were a sorry sort, there nuisance to society caused great anxiety and fear among those who did not understand. The thoughts and behaviors of these men, there distasteful actions, all caused by simple misunderstanding. It was a two way street of miscommunication. Even he spoke the common language, You would not ask a wolf the state of affairs, his frame of reference be too distant and distorted to make any sense of it. The orderly approached the steel frame. " good morning doctor." John Remained direct and taciturn. The remaining orderlies caused concern from john and some of the nurses. It were not completely clear of their participation and involvement in all the events which allowed the murder to take place. " what of their condition Mr. Wilde?" The words firing out his mouth like the shot of a gun. The beefy man seemed to understand the position he were in by associating with Gustav. " the the changes you've implemented have had a positive effect, over all they all remain less agitated." John walked through the gate, mr. wilde in tow. John lead him past the cells of each resident of the ward as he calmly jotted down notes. He catalouged the suttle nuance of behavior that each patient display, each fidget, each twitch, Every word that was shouted out, the corse language, the sounds, tones and inflections. Each word was a significance to Dr. Kennedy. It was because he too shared many of the same feelings, as many men do. The difference found between them and a common man being the annunciation of the depraved, grotesque abstractions that curdle in the mind. John looked at mr. wilde and began to speak. " I see you have removed the restraints."" You would do well to insure they bring no harm to themselves." Mr. Wild chimmed in promptly. " I don't for see any more troubles, nothing to cause alarm." "They were a bit unruly to begin with, but I suspect they have not been loose for more than a brief moment in the past decade." John remained silent fortuitously writing notes in his mole skin notebook. His reserve gave mr. wilde an uncomfortable feeling. Deranged cackling and hysterical speech remained a constant white noise in the backdrop. It took a man of great volition or blatant disregard to be in the presence of such fretfulness and angst. Mr. Wilde continued " They have gotten comfortable with the freedom, there mind also unshackled." He added on "for better or worse." under his breath. Johns head stayed fixed on his notes stopping at the gates of his first interviewee. The sudden stop had gone unnoticed by Mr. wilde finding he had to dodge running into the back of the doctor, narrowly preventing the act. " I would like to speak in depth with this patient." Said John. It were his study of a handful of patients he needed to complete his literature in progress. The unique cases gave an edge over other works that were currently being published. John was planning to outrival even himself. Dr. kennedy spoke " would you care to sedate and restrain mr. David Fredrick for me?" the man was peering out his window which was a pinhole through the cement wall. He looked upon the rolling hillside. In a place where only the unpredictable is standard his quietness of his spirit and his collectiveness created a larger discomfort. Mr. Wilde sorted through his collection of odd shaped keys the jangling not causing david from disturbing his concentration. " Mr. Fredrick the doctor wishes to speak with you". The orderly called out in a stern and condescending tone. When David turned around his head sunk to the ground. His thumb and forefinger cradled his eggplant head as his elbow sit in the crease of his pelvic area. He slowly walked over to a broad wooden chair which sat in the center of his hovel facing the entrance. He drapped his body across the chair with his arms sitting beside the worn leather bands. Davids fingers were caressing the deep scratches that layed in the aged wood. It looked as if it were sculpted from boards of an abandoned ship that found itself stricken along the shorelines. His hairy knuckles curled up as he fingered the indents. It seemed to be jogging up memories in his mind of not only previous occasions he found himself in the seat, but all in the past whom had been subject to the tortures of being locked against his will. David winced in a Pavlovian response as soon as Mr. Wilde's feet passed the room's threshold. His foot was incessantly tapping away, releasing the anxious energies which remain inside of him. David cradled himself providing him the illusion of safety that one needs when all sense of control has been stricken away. Mr. Wilde grabbed the man's arms with a stern grip and placed them back under the leather strap, pulling it across to tighten it. He then proceeded to buckle the man's shaking legs. Seeing Mr. Wilde nearly complete John stepped into the room and began surveying its contents. His face tightened into a cabbage shape as he looked the bed sheets which were covered in stains of indiscernible color. David began squirm and grunting as Mr.wilde Gruffly lodged a needle into his arm. John sat and watch without hesitation. He was poised in anticipation of thought, hoping not a single interesting thing escape his grasp. "you may leave us now Mr. Wilde" "I'll call you over, when I am complete, the other patients need your attention." Said John "yes sir" replied mr. Wilde as he stepped out the room continuing on with his morning duties. As soon as John herd the echoing clasp behind him his focus remained drawn to the blank ocean of white that he held in his hands. " How are you feeling mr. Fredrick?" Johns words carried the message but were void of any sincerity. " a bit better I suppose, how is a man in my position meant to feel?"Davids answer was not a rhetorical question, but he knew he would not receive a response. John pressed on with his questions. " the new medications have been working well then?"it was plain to see that much had changed about the man in the recent weeks. Mr. Fredricks left eye began twitching as his foot tapped furiously away on the pavement. " I... ummm..." David paused. " I can finally sneak in a free thought of my own " he smiled awkwardly. John asked another question. "And what of the voices? Have you found solice?"David looked around the room and answered "Only when Im awake now."He continued " In my dreams, I see him... The Voice." " I hadn't before, but before I could never sleep." John was intrigued thinking he had stumbled across something of value. " Please do go on Mr. Fredrick."he said holding back his eagerness. " he comes to me as soon as the deepness of slumber passes over me." "He has a wax candle face, a voice like rushing water. He speaks to me, tells me there is no hope, that the world has locked him away."Mr. Fredricks eyes grew hallow as he continued on " He weeps yet has no eyes his sadness over comes me. He trys to open his mouth, but as his lips spread apart they begin melting and drip like honey."John peers from his notebook seeing that davids face is struck with terror. "His Moan calls out to me as the flame rise and the smokes billow. Let them burn he says, all of them he says. They cause no harm but there forefather inflicted me with great torture. They must inherit the sins of there forefathers."Johns glance turned into a gaze as Davids terror grew to grief, seeing the water well in his eyes. " his hour of darkness carries through my days as his words circle through my skull 'I will not rest till I see the world in ashes only then will they know my pain'" Mr. Fredrick could no longer bear to look at the doctor and buried his head into his chest as tears droped onto his rough cotton cream colored shirt. He came together and stoped his weeping and began to talk. " When I wake I do not wish to, but I must inflict pain only violence will fill the void of the man whose found refugee in my soul." " his wound is cavernous"John brought his eyes to a close and started speaking. "that's great progress Mr. Fredrick, nothing to be ashamed of."continuing on " before you weren't even with us in this world."David could hope for no better answer. Johns previous mood slowly dissipaited as his conversation with Mr. Fredrick had continued on. He felt more companionship with him than he did with most of his peers. John himself was a broken man and had his heart toughened by the cruelty of the world. He could break barriers in his own spirit seeing the honesty spill over from out every orifice of david. Neither his body or toungue could tell a single lie. Even if the situation were unconventional and macabre in nature he was compelled to the flow of truth. John climbed off his beat up dusty old stool with a new life force. He swung his arm over to mr. Fredrick with ease and lightness, slapping his wide right hand onto Davids broad shoulder."You are doing ok David, its hard to remember in a place like this, but you are human." Johns rough deep voice stated. The Tension melted away from Mr. Fredrick for a brief moment. When he looked up to the doctor it seemed as if there was nothing wrong with him at all. Mr. Fredrick still straped in his chair stared out to John as he walked out the door. John skipped over a puddle that was in front of him. He was oblivious of his actions and the impact he made on david with such a simple action simply carrying on his way his notebook in hand and pen in his coat pocket. John made it over to Mr. Wilde and gently wrapped him on his shoulder as he were scrubbing the walls and floors in preparation for there next surprise visit from the commissioner. Mr. Wilde looked up to see the doctor towering over him and shot up. " Yes Doctor!? You're all finished now!?" john replied " Mr. Fredrick is waiting for you." Mr. wilde swiftly carried off. John could see Mr. Wildes fiery commitment to the institution. He weren't sure if it were his honest nature or a ruse but he was less suspicious that the orderly had any malevolent intentions. john looked at the soap stained walls. He was amazed that underneath all the mold, grime, and dirt, lay a beautiful almost pristen white brick. He felt a little proud and some joy as some things were turning around again. That were before He turned back and looked at the filth that coated the entirety of the building he knew he were in for a longer stay at the hospital than he had expect. The days discussion left John disturbed but the information that he provided into his deranged pyropsychosis helped him to shape a format and dialogue for his work in progress. John started thinking out the plains for his book while looking at his notes. As soon as he thought back to his first published novel the murky walls disintegrated in front of him. As he stood an ocean of red carpet surrounded his brown wing tip shoes. People appeared in lavish attire. Cream painted walls with wood trim crashed down in the backdrop the atmosphere emanating a warm and comforting glow. The chatter a hundred bourgeoisies rushed around him. Every imaginable item of food and drink lay across two wide long dining tables each sitting directly across from one another. The decadence was only rivaled by the exasperated collective egos which feed upon the empty banter of others whom sat upon the same steps in golden thrones.

**** Insert Flash Back****

John came back to and found himself standing in front of a cell facing the backside of a patient whom remained shrowded in darkness. The poignant slow drips of water rippled past johns ears as they fell upon the stagnant water. " you cannot hope to stop a man from having such perverse thoughts Doctor." A pure tone slithered out from underneath the mouth of a sunken head of the body that sat in a ball in front of him. John looked up from his paper work eyes glaring over at the hunched troll figure. This time the voice spoke more clear. Its buttery quality seeping into Johns ears "It is in his nature, even you know that... or have you too blinded yourself?"John was all to familiar with this banter. Perhaps it was fate or a subconscious inclination that brought John to the outside gates of Pierce Fisher. It weren't quite clear who had snared who in the trap of a gentleman's quarrel. John Responded, "what knowledge have you, that I do not about the condition of man?"" a man can change if he wish it so ."finished John. Pierce continued speaking "Just as a man can't stop the voices in his head you can not stop him from listening to them... it is compulsory. John stood with his hands behind his back staring straight into pierces cell. All he could see was his Light brown hair as his head swung up. John spoke " we all of choice Mr. Fisher, to say other wise is to relieve a man of all accountability." Words began crawling out of pierces mouth. " circumstance be either friend or foe, under the same condition, you surely fall under the same condition." Johns eyes followed the banana shaped man as his long arms swung as he slugged over to the small window in his cell, his back was still a wall of darkness. John watched the light from the window hit his thin danty fingers as he placed his soft child like hands against the cool crude walls. The contrast was striking and it were obvious that Mr. Fisher had previously lived a life of great privilege. Pierces linen coat was tattered and torn , his collared ruffled and out of order. In comparison to all he was dressed excessively well, everything he did was refined, on a quick glance he appeared more of a doctor than John. Pierce continued speaking. "there are no decisions, you talk of choice while holding no concept of the word, think ye better than another man?" the elegance and poise annunciation remaining a constant as his tone raised without a hint of discernment