Cliffton Fanfiction: Intractable - Chapter 5
If you want to read the previous chapters in this fanfic about Devin's mental instability, they are linked below.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4
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I glare at the NutrioStick in my hand. Brian, the fucking Nutrition Counselor, says I have to eat it. I’m “malnourished” and “haven’t been eating enough.” It’s not my fucking fault -- all the food tastes like shit in here. NutrioSticks are the worst -- they taste like fucking dust. But I’m not allowed to leave the cafeteria until I eat it. Brian stares at me with this look that says I’m not moving from my stupid yellow chair until I eat the whole thing. If I puke it up, it’s his fucking fault.
It’s not like I would have an appetite even if the food in the Home for the Intractably Insane tasted good. Still fucking miss Eric, even though I realize he’s not real. Hasn’t been real since the day he -- fuck, it’s hard to admit I might as well have killed him myself. Feel tears spring to my eyes. Brian doesn’t seem to care at all -- just keeps staring at me.
“You need to start eating that,” he mutters.
“I fucking know,” I grumble, glaring at him.
I unwrap the NutrioStick and take a bite. Can feel myself make a face. Chew on it -- yeah, it tastes like fucking dust. I even gag a bit. Brian just keeps staring -- people in this place love to stare at you like you’re nothing. I take another bite. It’s as horrible as the first one. Wish I had Eric here when I did this, imaginary or not. Now, I can fucking feel tears fall down my face.
Think I see him, but it’s just a shadow -- must be a tree branch from outside the window or something. As I eat the NutrioStick, I shut my eyes. Don’t wanna see any more fucking shadows and think they’re my dead best friend.
“There, I’m fucking finished,” I mutter once I’m done with the NutrioStick.
“Good,” Brian says. Doesn’t stop staring.
“Can I go now?” I ask. I toss the wrapper in the trash.
He fucking shakes his head. “You have therapy with Doctor Quigley,” he says.
The fuck? I look at the clock -- now is a Designated Rest Period. Not supposed to see Al. “It’s not time for therapy,” I mutter.
“He want to meet with you now,” he murmurs. “He’ll be here to take you to his office in a few minutes.” Brian blocks the door, like he thinks I’m gonna try to escape. I fucking wish.
* * *
I fucking hate Al’s office. It’s too bright, with the lighting and the white walls. The fucking white couch is spotless -- not a smudge of dirt on it. The lounge for the patients is shabby as anything, but Al’s stuff looks perfect. Al sits behind his fancy metal and glass desk. Sits on an office chair that matches the couch. Everything’s so sterile in here -- no fucking life. Kinda weird for a guy wearing a bright orange polo shirt and green pants with little yellow stars on them.
Al takes a strange metallic sphere from one of his draws and places it on the desk. It’s maybe three inches in diameter. “We’re going to try something different today,” he murmurs.
My stomach fucking sinks. I do not like this -- like it even less when he taps the sphere and it fucking glows blue. I start shaking and shut my eyes. Don’t wanna look at that thing.
“This is a prototype -- specially given to the Home by the government,” Al says.
I hug myself and keep my eyes shut, but I swear I can feel the sphere glowing. “Turn it off,” I plead, my voice high-pitched and strained.
He fucking tsk-tsks. “Now, Devin, I can’t do that -- this device is going to help you. If you’ll be so good as to open your eyes and look directly at the sphere...”
His voice is so cold my eyes snap open. I stare at the sphere, though I don’t mean to. Can’t fucking help it.
“That’s better,” Al murmurs, smiling. “Today we’re going to cleanse your mind.”
I shudder hearing that. My stomach sinks even lower, and I grip my arms hard enough they hurt. Need the fucking pain so I don’t lose it right in front of Al.
“Just keep looking at the sphere and tell me if you see anything,” he says. The thing casts weird shadows on his face. I shudder again.
“I don’t like him,” Eric says. The fuck? Eric’s back? I look to my side. He’s sitting right next to me. Looks fucking worried.
“Eric,” I shout. My heart thuds in my chest and my arms drop to my sides.
Al steeples his fingers. “Eric’s here? That’s very good,” he says.
“He doesn’t fucking like you,” I mutter as I cross my arms again.
“Your young friend should like someone who’s trying to help you,” he murmurs. I hate his fucking creepy smile.
“You’re about as helpful as getting a laser drill jammed into your eye,” I mutter. Think I would prefer the laser drill to Al.
“We don’t need such violent imagery, do we?” he says, leaning forward a bit.
Eric hugs himself. He’s shivering. I wish I could hug him -- he looks terrified out of his mind. Like I am. I don’t like whatever Al’s planning. And I know he’s planning something.
“So, would Eric like to tell me how he’s feeling?” Al asks. He’s got a glint in his eyes. Eric shivers even harder.
I glare at Al. “I told you -- he doesn’t fucking like you,” I mutter.
He taps his freaky sphere. “Perhaps your imaginary friend is a manifestation of your ambivalence towards treatment,” he says.
The fuck? I’m not “ambivalent” -- I don’t want to be in treatment. At all.
Al taps the the sphere some more. Moves his fingers faster this time -- they blur. I can’t help watching.
“Devin? I don’t feel so good,” Eric moans. I manage to tear my eyes away from the sphere and look at him. He’s shaking worse than I have ever seen. Worse, he looks -- kinda fucking transparent.
That sphere is doing something to him. I can tell. Al is smiling as he keeps tapping it. The fuck is he trying? I know my friend isn’t real, but it still fucking hurts to see Eric like that. Also, if Al’s hurting him, he’s also messing with my mind.
“What are you doing to him?” I cry. As I look at Eric, he’s -- he’s fucking fading. I reach out and try to grab him. My hand goes right through his body.
“Calm down; I’m trying to help,” Al murmurs. He never stops tapping that fucking sphere.
He’s not fucking helping anything.
Eric keeps fading as Al taps that fucking sphere -- now, he’s so fucking transparent it’s almost impossible to see him. My stomach seizes up. I think I might be sick.
“You’re killing him,” I shout. “Stop it, please.” Tears flow from my eyes -- I don’t fucking care, though. He can’t do this to Eric.
“He’s already dead,” Al murmurs. He continues tapping the sphere. “You should really calm down -- I’m trying to help you.”
It doesn’t fucking matter if he’s dead or not -- Al is is still killing him. Though I know it won’t help, I try to hug Eric. My arms go right through him. He’ll be gone in moments, I can fucking tell.
I’m right. He fucking vanishes. “I -- I love you, Eric,” I say, my voice cracking.
It’s too late -- he didn’t fucking hear me, and this time, I know he’s gone for good.
next chapter
1 | 2 | 3 | 4
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I glare at the NutrioStick in my hand. Brian, the fucking Nutrition Counselor, says I have to eat it. I’m “malnourished” and “haven’t been eating enough.” It’s not my fucking fault -- all the food tastes like shit in here. NutrioSticks are the worst -- they taste like fucking dust. But I’m not allowed to leave the cafeteria until I eat it. Brian stares at me with this look that says I’m not moving from my stupid yellow chair until I eat the whole thing. If I puke it up, it’s his fucking fault.
It’s not like I would have an appetite even if the food in the Home for the Intractably Insane tasted good. Still fucking miss Eric, even though I realize he’s not real. Hasn’t been real since the day he -- fuck, it’s hard to admit I might as well have killed him myself. Feel tears spring to my eyes. Brian doesn’t seem to care at all -- just keeps staring at me.
“You need to start eating that,” he mutters.
“I fucking know,” I grumble, glaring at him.
I unwrap the NutrioStick and take a bite. Can feel myself make a face. Chew on it -- yeah, it tastes like fucking dust. I even gag a bit. Brian just keeps staring -- people in this place love to stare at you like you’re nothing. I take another bite. It’s as horrible as the first one. Wish I had Eric here when I did this, imaginary or not. Now, I can fucking feel tears fall down my face.
Think I see him, but it’s just a shadow -- must be a tree branch from outside the window or something. As I eat the NutrioStick, I shut my eyes. Don’t wanna see any more fucking shadows and think they’re my dead best friend.
“There, I’m fucking finished,” I mutter once I’m done with the NutrioStick.
“Good,” Brian says. Doesn’t stop staring.
“Can I go now?” I ask. I toss the wrapper in the trash.
He fucking shakes his head. “You have therapy with Doctor Quigley,” he says.
The fuck? I look at the clock -- now is a Designated Rest Period. Not supposed to see Al. “It’s not time for therapy,” I mutter.
“He want to meet with you now,” he murmurs. “He’ll be here to take you to his office in a few minutes.” Brian blocks the door, like he thinks I’m gonna try to escape. I fucking wish.
* * *
I fucking hate Al’s office. It’s too bright, with the lighting and the white walls. The fucking white couch is spotless -- not a smudge of dirt on it. The lounge for the patients is shabby as anything, but Al’s stuff looks perfect. Al sits behind his fancy metal and glass desk. Sits on an office chair that matches the couch. Everything’s so sterile in here -- no fucking life. Kinda weird for a guy wearing a bright orange polo shirt and green pants with little yellow stars on them.
Al takes a strange metallic sphere from one of his draws and places it on the desk. It’s maybe three inches in diameter. “We’re going to try something different today,” he murmurs.
My stomach fucking sinks. I do not like this -- like it even less when he taps the sphere and it fucking glows blue. I start shaking and shut my eyes. Don’t wanna look at that thing.
“This is a prototype -- specially given to the Home by the government,” Al says.
I hug myself and keep my eyes shut, but I swear I can feel the sphere glowing. “Turn it off,” I plead, my voice high-pitched and strained.
He fucking tsk-tsks. “Now, Devin, I can’t do that -- this device is going to help you. If you’ll be so good as to open your eyes and look directly at the sphere...”
His voice is so cold my eyes snap open. I stare at the sphere, though I don’t mean to. Can’t fucking help it.
“That’s better,” Al murmurs, smiling. “Today we’re going to cleanse your mind.”
I shudder hearing that. My stomach sinks even lower, and I grip my arms hard enough they hurt. Need the fucking pain so I don’t lose it right in front of Al.
“Just keep looking at the sphere and tell me if you see anything,” he says. The thing casts weird shadows on his face. I shudder again.
“I don’t like him,” Eric says. The fuck? Eric’s back? I look to my side. He’s sitting right next to me. Looks fucking worried.
“Eric,” I shout. My heart thuds in my chest and my arms drop to my sides.
Al steeples his fingers. “Eric’s here? That’s very good,” he says.
“He doesn’t fucking like you,” I mutter as I cross my arms again.
“Your young friend should like someone who’s trying to help you,” he murmurs. I hate his fucking creepy smile.
“You’re about as helpful as getting a laser drill jammed into your eye,” I mutter. Think I would prefer the laser drill to Al.
“We don’t need such violent imagery, do we?” he says, leaning forward a bit.
Eric hugs himself. He’s shivering. I wish I could hug him -- he looks terrified out of his mind. Like I am. I don’t like whatever Al’s planning. And I know he’s planning something.
“So, would Eric like to tell me how he’s feeling?” Al asks. He’s got a glint in his eyes. Eric shivers even harder.
I glare at Al. “I told you -- he doesn’t fucking like you,” I mutter.
He taps his freaky sphere. “Perhaps your imaginary friend is a manifestation of your ambivalence towards treatment,” he says.
The fuck? I’m not “ambivalent” -- I don’t want to be in treatment. At all.
Al taps the the sphere some more. Moves his fingers faster this time -- they blur. I can’t help watching.
“Devin? I don’t feel so good,” Eric moans. I manage to tear my eyes away from the sphere and look at him. He’s shaking worse than I have ever seen. Worse, he looks -- kinda fucking transparent.
That sphere is doing something to him. I can tell. Al is smiling as he keeps tapping it. The fuck is he trying? I know my friend isn’t real, but it still fucking hurts to see Eric like that. Also, if Al’s hurting him, he’s also messing with my mind.
“What are you doing to him?” I cry. As I look at Eric, he’s -- he’s fucking fading. I reach out and try to grab him. My hand goes right through his body.
“Calm down; I’m trying to help,” Al murmurs. He never stops tapping that fucking sphere.
He’s not fucking helping anything.
Eric keeps fading as Al taps that fucking sphere -- now, he’s so fucking transparent it’s almost impossible to see him. My stomach seizes up. I think I might be sick.
“You’re killing him,” I shout. “Stop it, please.” Tears flow from my eyes -- I don’t fucking care, though. He can’t do this to Eric.
“He’s already dead,” Al murmurs. He continues tapping the sphere. “You should really calm down -- I’m trying to help you.”
It doesn’t fucking matter if he’s dead or not -- Al is is still killing him. Though I know it won’t help, I try to hug Eric. My arms go right through him. He’ll be gone in moments, I can fucking tell.
I’m right. He fucking vanishes. “I -- I love you, Eric,” I say, my voice cracking.
It’s too late -- he didn’t fucking hear me, and this time, I know he’s gone for good.
next chapter