Symphony of Screams by Kit Lewis

Author:Kit Lewis [Lewis, Kit]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-06-12T00:00:00+00:00

The Caring Doctor

As they dragged me back towards the realm of the doctor’s twisted care, the reality of what I had done began to sink in, a crushing weight that threatened to pull me under into the dark abyss of total madness.

As Dr. Blackwell and the guards escorted me through the labyrinthine corridors of the asylum, my mind reeled from the damage I had done to myself. The unembellished contrast between my mutilated arms and the doctor's clinical detachment added an extra layer of surrealism to the nightmare I was living. We stopped in front of a door that looked remarkably mundane compared to the rest of the facility's foreboding architecture.

The door swung open to reveal an interior glaringly contrasted with the grim decay of the rest of the asylum. The room was bright and airy, decorated in the style of a typical doctor's office, complete with polished wooden furniture and neatly framed posters on the walls. One poster featured a cartoon cat dangling from a branch, accompanied by the optimistic phrase "Hang in there," its cheerfulness almost mocking in context.

Dr. Blackwell's demeanor had undergone a transformation as profound as the room's decor. His voice, previously tinged with sadistic glee, was now soothing and fatherly. "Now, why would you go and do that to yourself?" he asked, tsk-tsking as he guided me to a plush examination chair that seemed out of place with its gleaming chrome and soft leather.

I was too dazed and in shock to respond, my eyes fixating on the incongruously cheerful poster as Dr. Blackwell began to tend to my wounds. His movements were gentle and precise, a stark contradiction to the cruel manipulator who had orchestrated so much suffering. As he cleaned each wound with expert care, the sting of antiseptic on raw skin brought a sharp clarity back to my foggy mind.

"But don't worry, we'll get you all fixed up," he continued, smiling warmly as he applied bandages with practiced ease. His smile, meant to be reassuring, only deepened the eerie sense of dissonance I felt. Here was the man who had tormented me, now playing the role of a benevolent healer.

"Fixed up for what?" I finally managed to croak, my voice hoarse from disuse and emotional strain.

Dr. Blackwell paused, his hands still for a moment as he looked directly into my eyes. "For a fresh start, of course. We all deserve a chance to erase our mistakes and begin anew, don't we?" His tone was almost convincing as if he truly believed in the possibility of redemption he was suggesting.

I glanced again at the poster, the cat hanging on determinedly. It felt like a cruel joke, a reminder of the persistence required to endure this place. "Hang in there," indeed—as if survival were just a matter of enduring a little longer, a little stronger.

As Dr. Blackwell finished bandaging my arms, he stepped back, admiring his handiwork. "There, much better," he declared, his voice brimming with satisfaction. "We'll keep a close eye on you, and ensure you're healing nicely, both physically and mentally.

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