No Escape

I hate being locked up in this place. And I’m not even crazy. This place is the Karibu psych ward, and I’m in here for what their calling a psychotic episode. The night when I came in, I was walking home in the rain, when I started to feel things. My thoughts were being read by a whole group of people, and I could feel each and every one of them staring into my mind. They were all asking me questions: “Who are you?” “Why should we choose you?” “What do you know about us?”

Soaked and chilled as the storm belted down thick raindrops, I did not know how to respond. In my mind, I tried threatening them, talking nonsense, ignoring them. But it was no use. I was walking down the highway, but I have no idea what direction I was going. I couldn’t get out of my own head. Anytime words formed in my head, the watchers would speak back to me as if I’d spoken to them, so instead of resisting I was going along with the whole process. I answered every question one way or another. Who am I? I’m Walter Scott, 30 years old, Bank Teller. Why should we choose you? I don’t want to be chosen, leave me alone. What do you know about us? Nothing, except when I feel you pulling me apart and scouring my thoughts, it feels like I’ve known you for a long time.

I hardly knew it when I arrived at the door of my shared house. Not thinking to go in, not thinking to go to sleep and put this all behind me, I sat on the porch and tried to make sense of myself. Seeing as any thought I had was like speaking, I found it easier just to say what I was thinking, so I talked back to them using my voice. I felt like there were 50 cameras all trained on me, and in my head, I could almost see them. I must have been out there all night. There was a moment when I almost slept, but when I closed my eyes, I saw a bright light. When I opened them, I felt refreshed with nervous energy, so I probably didn’t close them again.

It must have been early winter morning when one of my housemates saw me on the porch.

“Walter, have you been out here all night? You’re soaked, man.” He said, with a worried look on his face.

I hardly noticed him, still talking to my interlocutors.

“Stay here, I’m going to get some help.”

The help arrived when an ambulance pulled up in front of our house. The two officers came out of their van and looked me over. They took my blood pressure, asked me when the last time I’d slept was, but eventually after talking to my housemate, they led me into the van and drove me to the hospital. I think the doctor there assessed me too, I don’t remember a lot of how that went, but eventually they put me on a wheel chair and wheeled me into the psych ward. I remember they gave me an injection, but after that all I know is that I slept. For a long time.

When I woke up, a nurse was knocking on my door. The sun was out, and it looked like morning. I wasn’t sure if I’d slept through a whole day, or whether it was the day I was brought in. That presence that I had felt was gone. I tried smiling at the nurse and thanking her for waking me up. She told me breakfast was on in half an hour, so when she left, I tried unplastering myself from the bed and standing up. Outside my room, was a corridor with a bunch of doors; to other rooms I assumed. But I could see down the end of the hallway, a larger room with tables and chairs. From somewhere, I could hear the noise of the morning news from a television.

There was a line of people queued up in front of a walled off room with a window and a bench, and through the window I could see a cook unloading some trays of baked beans and what looked like some kind of omelettes. I decided to get in line. The window opened, and breakfast began to be served. There was a mousy looking lady in front of me with grey hair and thick bags beneath her eyes. Behind me was a large dark-skinned guy with a gut sticking out of his size XXL shirt, a beard on his face, and a pair of Bluetooth headphones on. I could hear the faint stirrings of metal coming out of his headphones. I decided not to talk.

Eventually it was my turn to get served. I was starving, so I asked for a serve of the baked beans, one of the omelettes, milk and two packets of cereal labelled ‘rice pops’. With my food on a tray, I walked over to the table and sat at the far end.

I didn’t matter that I’d sat at the end of the table, as eventually all the seats were filled. Across from me, a muscular guy in a stained white t-shirt, with nearly the same breakfast as me, sat down and began to eat. I kept my eyes down, staring at the food in front of me that I was eating, but regardless, the man spoke to me.

“Bro, you got any cigarette’s or vapes?”

“No.” I replied, hoping to keep conversation to a minimum.

“Come on man, I know you’ve got something.”

“No, I don’t smoke or vape. I’ve got nothing.”

The muscular guy slammed his fist into the table. I didn’t flinch, and continued eating my breakfast.

Later that day I had an appointment with the ward’s psychiatrist. The room’s temperature was like the brisk air of a winter morning, the air conditioner turned up to max. I sat in an office chair while the psychiatrist stared at me from across the desk.

“So, what was going on when we found you?” The psych asked in a calm monotone, brushing aside some hair that had fallen across her face.

“I don’t know, there were people digging around in my mind.”

“People? Could you see them?”

“No, but I could feel them. And I could hear them.”

“What did they want?”

“I don’t know. They asked me a lot of questions.”

“Do you hear them now?”

“No, when are you going to let me out?”

“Soon, after you’ve calmed down.”

“I don’t look calm to you?”

“You’ve been through a lot. Trust that you are in good hands. Were going to put you on a course of anti-psychotics, and monitor how it affects you. That’s one of the reasons you’re here. It’s easier to keep track of what’s going on when you’re in a public hospital.”

“Please, I just want to know, why is this happening to me?”

“It’s because you’re not well.”

“I don’t understand, nothing like this has ever happened to me before. And I’m 35.”

“I’m sorry, these sorts of things can happen to anyone. There could be a genetic link, we don’t know for sure. All I can tell you is that it is crucial that you remain here.”

“But doctor, I don’t want to be here.”

“This meeting is over.”

As I got up and walked out, I noticed a group of people in suits staring through the window at me.

In the evening, I was walking down the corridor, when I saw the mousey grey-haired lady at the other end of the corridor. She looked catatonic, shuffling slowly with her eyes staring at the ground in front of her. I saw her go into one of the TV rooms, and for some reason, I decided to follow her. When I got to the TV room, I saw her sitting on one of 3 armchairs. The TV was obstructed by a curtain, but I could hear the sounds of a cartoon coming from behind the curtain. I sat in one of the armchairs and looked at her. She was still staring at the ground.

“Been in here long?” I asked for want of nothing better to say.

She did not reply. From the sound of it, the cartoon had become violent, as I heard screams of pain and smashing and crashing. The noise was beginning to disturb me. Weren’t cartoons usually more light hearted? I began to get up to investigate, when the lady spoke to me.

“You don’t want to go in there. It’s an awful show. And they’re always watching…”

“Who’s always watching?” I asked her. But she ignored my question.

“Their watching to see what you want. I wouldn’t go in there, or they might think you want to see stuff like that.”

I got up and left the room.

Late in the evening, I took some medication, and prepared myself to sleep. I lay down underneath the covers. It was then that I began to hear a voice.

“Who are you?”

I talked back. “You know who I am.”

“We have chosen you.”

“I don’t want you, leave me alone.”

“Were not going to leave you alone.”

I sat up in bed, not able to go to sleep with this commotion in my mind. I decided to ask them a question. “Now you tell me, who are you?”

“Never ask us that again. Never.” Came a cold voice. I was beginning to feel intimidated.

“What do you want with me?”

The voice replied. “You’ll find out.”

It was then that I noticed the bathroom light was on in my room, and the door was slightly ajar.

“What can you do for us?”  Said the voice calmly.

I was terrified. “Nothing! Leave me alone!”

I began to hear screaming, at first just at the edge of my hearing, but it steadily got louder. At this point I just wanted this to stop, so I got out of bed and began to make my way over to the door to my bedroom. But when I got there, and tried to open the door it was locked. I kept fumbling around with the door handle, but it would not open, locked tight. Eventually, I gave up and stood in front of my bed.

“Go into the bathroom.” Commanded the voice.

“I’m staying out here.” I replied, whispering to myself. The screaming was horrible, screams of pain. It was just loud enough to hear, as though coming from a distant place.

“Go into the bathroom, or were going to kill you and put your body somewhere nobody will find it.” Repeated the voice.

This couldn’t be happening to me, I thought. Surely this wasn’t real. I thought of the cartoon I had heard earlier in the day. Was this another thing that was best left alone? I found myself wondering what would happen if I went in the bathroom.

“You’re thinking about it aren’t you?” Came the cruel voice.

“Leave me alone!” I protested, whispering just a little too loudly.

But they were right. I was wondering what was in the bathroom. Why they wanted me to go in there. I found myself thinking that if I just went in there and saw nothing, I would have proved that none of this was real, and I could go to bed. So, I walked into the bathroom. As I stood in front of the mirror, looking at a trembling pale skinned figure, I saw the door close behind me and heard a click, and I realized I was not alone.

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ABC News: “Reports have circulated that Mossad is using the Australian mental health system to recruit agents. Kylie Richards is here now with the story.”