Claerys Vision

They said I was crazy, but I know I’m not. I just see the world a little differently. That's all.

No one believes me. So now I am stuck sitting in this insultingly bright and empty room. Empty except for a TV, a couch and a few chairs. There's also a few tables secured to the floor with plastic chairs attached to them for meetings, or games, when we all behave.

The TV is blasting a children's show. I am trying not to pay attention, that's how they get into your mind. Dorothy is sitting directly in front of it, clapping along to the brainwashing songs they indoctrinate children with, controlling them to become their slaves. She seems happy enough, it is better than witnessing one of her violent tantrums. Once, they used a giant needle to calm her down.

I am facing the opposite direction of Dorothy and her brainwashing station, staring at a painting on the wall, secured tightly behind metal grating. Nothing in this room is movable, leaving zero source of bodily harm to ourselves or others. They really thought of everything, what could a crazy person do with a damned painting?

“Claery, time for class” yells the afternoon nurse. She is the nicer one, although not nice enough that I care to remember her name. “Let’s go love” she calls again.

I stand up, and yell to Dorothy “Watch for those gremlins, they’ll seep out of that thing and right into your brain!”.

Dorothy is convinced that gremlins move in her body; her tantrums begin when they get deep into her muscles and begin to take control.

“Hush Clarey!” scolds the nurse, “don’t get her all riled up, she’s already been dosed once today.”

“Where else am I to get entertainment…LOVE” I mock as I dance around her. She shakes her head and continues chaperoning me to the large classroom on the upper level of the institute.

Somatic Art Lesson reads the sign outside the door.

“Oh goody” I yelp, “what emotion are we picking today boss?” I yell out as I enter the room. But there isn't a teacher today, and the room is empty.

My therapist leans against the front of the desk, silently gesturing for me to sit at the table in front of him. Laid out on the surface is a plain white sheet of paper, and a crayon.

“Claery, I was asked to join you this afternoon. I am told you have been having—visions.” He paused, watching my reaction.

“They aren’t visions, what I see is very real.” lifting my sleeve up to show the marks on my arm “visions don’t make marks like these appear, do they?!” I huff pulling my sleeve back down. “Just because you can’t see THEM, doesn’t make THEM any less real, it makes YOU brainwashed, you’ve lost your ability to see everything because you believed THEM” I added.

“Who is THEM?” he asked

“THEM is evil, they want us dumb, they poison us, but they couldn’t poison me, and they know they can’t get to me, so they hurt me and make me look crazy, so people like you will keep me locked away” explaining the truth to a blind person is impossible, because they believe that THEM are protecting them. No one that has taken the juice will ever be able to come back and see the real world for what it is anymore. Evil.

“Try, Claery.” He demanded, “You say I can’t see them, but you can. Draw them for me.” he said, pointing to the paper and crayon.

“I draw like a kindergartener, if you want to know what THEM looks like, why don’t you go look at that awful painting you have locked up in the common area, that's one.” chuckling to myself, because I know that even if I could draw, the image that would be depicted would look different to him than to myself. I tried this with my best friend, before they locked me away in this hell hole.

“That's the Queen, Claery, you are telling me that she is one of THEM?” he asked me, puzzled.

“Yes, except when I see ‘her’ it’s not the loving Queen you all say she is” I explain “I see right through the crown and the fancy dress, and proper posture. And that smile, that isn't a smile at all, it’s a million sharp jagged teeth and she has horns…” saying all this makes my breathing erratic, the panic starts setting in again.

I take a deep breath in and hold it for a moment, then slowly release it. Repeating again and again for a few moments. One thing this place has done right, is teach me how to calm a panic attack before it takes over.

“You don’t see that, I know you don’t, and you never will, until you cleanse yourself of the poison.” I finally said. “So you may as well quit trying”

Down the hall I could hear Dorothy’s tantrum in full swing now. Damn it, I was missing the action. The nice nurse gestured to us, and bolted to the scene.

“Claery, let’s focus on us again” he instructs. “How about this—” he pulled out a photo of the painting and placed it in front of me. “Can you trace out what you do see that I don’t, onto this photo?”. At least he asked politely. I admit, it wasn’t a terrible idea, something I haven’t tried yet.

I began to trace my outlines onto the picture, line after line, defacing his precious Queen. The teeth, the grin, the horns, I traced it all.

When I finished my additions, I sat back and admired it. When I finally looked up, I could see the horror in his face. And I knew then…. He finally sees it, and it triggers his memories. I see him unravel before me.

He’s being reformed. He’s becoming one of ME now, which means one less for THEM.

Art is the Cure.