FicWad

A/N:: Second chapter, hope its okay. Everything's a little sketchy right now. Please read and review, much love.




I started getting cold; waiting, barefoot in the hall. I fiddled with my clothes-sheet thing, trying to tie it so I wouldn't have to hold it. Once I'd managed a fucked up looking toga I left it; looking around at the other doors, each marked with a 'Dr. Someone' in gold lettering.


I could hear movement on the other side of the door, and started to get irritated. What was taking so long? I felt my impatient self kicking in and before I thought about it I started knocking on the door, continuously, getting louder until it suddenly swung away from me.


I stumbled and almost fell into, presumably, Don Savage. He looked as surprised as I felt, and I cautiously slipped by him, uninvited, into the room.


"Mr. Cryztol, you couldn't have given me a few minutes?" the doctor asked from behind me, a hint of amusement in his voice. I turned around at him, glaring and feeling annoyed.


"No, Don. Can I get some fucking clothes?" I said, feeling more like myself. I took a minute to look him over. I was initially surprised by how young he was, he looked younger than thirty. He had dirty blond hair, and black framed glasses with a look on his face that told me we'd gotten off on the wrong foot.


"Yeah, I can get you some clothes for now, but you'll be changing into patients garbs shortly anyways," he said flatly. He looked me over briefly, making me uncomfortable; I knew what he was looking at. I hugged my arms to my chest in a weak attempt to hide my scars; it was no use, they were everywhere. "Why don't you have a seat, Mr. Crystol," he offered. I sat down and watched him disappear into another room.


When he returned he had a bundle in his arm, and tossed it to me. I caught it gratefully quickly putting the socks on. "Thanks," I mumbled. I managed to put the pants on under my toga, and then stared at him expectantly. When I realized he wasn't going to turn away, I quickly took off the sheet and slipped into the sweater he'd given me. I sat down again, waiting for him to say something.


"Is there anything in particular you'd like to talk about, Mr. Cryztol?" He asked, sitting down across from me.


"Well not really," I replied, honestly, "you could stop calling me 'Mr. Cryztol'," then added, as an after thought. The sleeves of the sweater were too long and I basked in the sudden warmth, my hands finally stopped tingling from cold.


"Alright Salem, if you like. My names Dr. Savage, I'm sure you already know that," he said, distractedly as he flipped through a notebook and tested his pen. "I've seen you're scars," he said, suddenly looking up at me. I felt like a deer in the headlights.


"So what?" I said, more defensively than I'd intended.


"While you were asleep," he continued, pretending I hadn't said anything, "quite remarkable I think. We'll, that is, I've never seen scars quite like yours before." He finished, sounding thoughtful.


"You know I don't really want to talk about this, Don," I said, matter-of-factly. He gave me a small smile then jotted something in his book. I tried to crane my neck to see, but he kept moving it out of my sight. I sighed, blowing hair out of my eyes.


"I deal with most patients at West Wood that has problems like yours. It's kind of like my field. You know, depression, self-mutilation, drugs...I'll be your doctor as long as you stay here," he said, changing the topic out of nowhere. Problems like mine? I didn't have any problems and the casual words and tone of his voice were starting to piss me off.


"Look, I don't have a fucking 'problem'. I don't know what you people have been told, or what you think, but I'm fine; and I shouldn't be in here," I said bitterly, challenging him with my eyes. "What kind of place is this anyways? The white room? You strapped me down and drugged me! God only knows what you did to me while I was out," I stopped to think, "You raped me!" I blurted, not really believing it.


"Jesus Christ, no one raped you," Don replied panicky while holding his hands up in surrender. Maybe he thought I was serious.


"Okay well...fuck bunnies; what happens now then?" I asked, feeling mutually uncomfortable.


"So what's the big deal with you being my doctor, you're not asking me any questions?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.


"I figured we could just talk today, casually, and get to know each other," he said, smiling. Uh, no. Not cool.


"Sounds kinda lame. What do you want to know?" I asked sarcastically, feeling bored with Doc. He was a weird shrink, alright.


"I want you to tell me how you feel about yourself," he replied, regaining that annoying thoughtful look again.


"What do you mean?" I asked. "I feel okay."


"How do you feel about the way you look?" he asked again. I glared daggers at him.


"I thought looks didn't matter," I stated, "I feel fine about myself." He stared at me blankly for a moment before looking away and shaking his head.


"Don't worry about it for now. We should talk about your schedule, and your ward," he replied, grabbing a large binder from a shelf and coming to sit next to me.


"My ward?" I asked, watching him flip through the binder. It looked like a bunch of maps and charts and codes of some sort.


"Yes, it's where you'll stay. You're in ward M9. That just means you're a male, and you're part of corridor 9. The wards are broken up into groups of males and females, classified by their needs," I nodded, listening to him. It all sounded so fucked up to me, and now he was pointing out the different corridors and pointed at mine, M9.


The map showed the whole sanatorium. It looked massive; the main building and the buildings surrounding it made a huge octagon. It was kind of intimidating and I started to feel really nervous for the first time.


"We should go now, Salem. I'll show you to your ward and one of the nurses there will get you settled and introduce you to your roommate," Doc said, and stood up putting his binder on the shelf and pocketing his little notepad and pen.


"My roommate?" I asked, following him out into the bright grey hallway.


"Yeah, he's not my patient but I think you'll get along pretty well. You have something in common with him," he said, glancing back at me.


"And what's that?" I asked.


"Either of you realize, or want to admit that you're mentally ill," he replied, as if it were so obvious that I, or this other person was nuts. I knew I wasn't nuts, so maybe my roommate is sane too.


I said nothing as I followed him through the maze of hallways, up three steps, through a door and into another, brighter maze. This hallway was white, and a lot wider than the cement lair we just came from. We made a lot of lefts, but at least one right. I lost track after awhile; it seemed like this place was huge and we hadn't seen any people yet. It was creepy.


Finally we came to another set of doors; a small sign above it read M9. This time the doctor needed a passkey to get through the doors. There was a loud buzzing noise as he pulled out his card, and opened the door. I followed him inside.


He led me over to a small desk with the same blonde nurse from earlier, sitting behind a mound of papers and computer equipment. Don was talking to her in a hushed voice and I missed what they were saying, then Don turned to me.


"Well, this is it Salem. Nurse Jacqueline will show you around and get you settled into your room, and review the schedule with you. I'll see you in two days for our session," he shook my hand briefly and was gone.


I stared at the nurse, following after her. She was talking about something, but I couldn't really pay attention. All I could hear were the screams and cries of crazy people.


I silently prayed this place wouldn't turn me into a screaming lunatic.