THE WRONG PLACE

I woke sitting slumped on metal seats, head throbbing. The slightest movement made me feel nauseous, as if I was on a ship out at sea. I grabbed my head, pressing it against my hands. The light here was too bright and the sounds of an intercom overhead felt like having my head drilled into.

They were small. They sat either side of me tending to the sweat on my brow. They spoke quickly to each other, like buzzing bees.

“Mop his brow!” A voice spouted.

Tiny fingers dabbed at my forehead. I tried to bat them away, but they were surprisingly strong.

“Now, now, this will make you feel better.” They gabbled.

I let them. I was boiling inside my skin, and whatever they were doing was working. I felt less sick, I could see farther in front of me without feeling dizzy, and the world came into focus.

Underneath me was bare concrete, around me more of the same material. The walls were concrete and iron, the ceiling corrosive. I had no clue where I was. Their faces were inches away from me.

“He’s waking!” One cried.

“Oh yeah, there he is.”

Their voices were squeaky. Their faces were tiny. A gaggle of them gathered around me. These were children, a bunch of wide-eyed giddy children. I pushed back in my seat. Inches away from me they gawked.

“Give him some room to breathe!” A voice from behind said.

The gaggle of children were pushed away by a larger, more intimidating child. If it wasn’t for their youthful looking face, I would’ve been forgiven for thinking he was an adult.

The group dispersed giving them a wide berth. I was face to face with this large child, looking me up and down.

“You feel up to standing?” They asked.

I didn’t want to stand, I wanted to go back to sleep, pretend that this never happened, but I nodded, hoisting myself off the chair.

“Walk, you can walk?”

I stared at the group of children around me. They looked to me as if I was a God. I slowly took a few steps forward. I was shaken, I couldn’t move without leaning onto metal chairs for support.

“Not quite there then.” Their obvious leader said. “Take him to the hospital wing.”

Two of them nodded their heads, grabbed me by each hand then tried to drag me away. I was too strong for either of them.

“I’m not going anywhere.” I refused.

This was the first time I’d spoken for what felt like days. My throat was dry and scratchy. I hardly recognised my own voice.

“There’s no discussion, you’re going.” The leader said.

He was stronger than he appeared originally. His giant hands forced me down into a wheelchair they had wheeled in for me. I fell into the chair kicking and screaming, batting arms away from me.

It was nothing but a sharp scratch but I felt woozy again, exhausted, I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

The last thing I remember him saying, “You’ll thank me later.”

I woke again, more alert than I had been before. The lights were bright, and I found myself lying in a room in a small, white, crisp hospital bed with grey tiles and a concrete ceiling. My jeans and jacket had been stripped off and lay in a pile on a chair beside me. I had been dressed in a white gown, far too tight to wear comfortably.

He sat next to me, unfazed. I jumped out of my skin and yet he didn’t react.

“Feel better?” He asked.

“Feel better? What have you done to me?”

I was tied to a drip that drew blood from my hand.

“Sorry for the intrusion, but you needed to be sedated.”

I was lost for words. I looked at this man looking boy, a boy wiser than his years. He spoke with authority, a calmness to his voice.

“I am Brutus by the way.” He held out his hand to shake. I accepted, though I was wary.

“Why am I here?”

“We do not know how you ended on a seat in the middle of the train station, we thought you’d be able to add some light on the subject.” Brutus spoke as if childhood didn’t exist. He spoke like a leader.

“I have no idea.” It was the truth, I had no idea how I ended up here, wherever ‘here’ was. “Where am I?”

Brutus stood and tucked me into bed like a small child. He hovered over me and whispered. “Sssh! Don’t worry about that now, you need to rest.”

I was tired, fuzzy, and still my head throbbed. I didn’t have enough energy to fight as I watched Brutus leave the room, I was stuck in. As the door closed behind him, I found myself noticing my surroundings. It was a small room. Not very much to look at. No windows, only artificial light above, a bedside cabinet next to me and a large, long rectangular picture of water lilies hung up on the wall.

I was sore. I found it difficult to get out of bed. I was slow, every single leg muscle hurt when I walked. I stood viewing the picture. The only colour in this very clinical room. The greens, the vibrant purples and pinks danced. The pond water seemed to shimmer when I looked closer, though I doubted myself. Had these strange child/adult people given me some kind of hallucinogenic drug that made paintings come alive?

I heard voices from behind me. Whispers barely audible. Littered on the water lilies were tiny holes, made with pencil pinpricks. It could have been a design choice, it could have been, but I doubted everything I saw.

Barely a pinhole, I couldn’t see much of anything. I did see flashes of skin, the occasional piece of fabric hurrying past. They were watching me, watching me like some kind of experiment. I couldn’t stand it. I pounded hard, then harder until my fists couldn’t anymore, until they were red raw.

“You’re all watching me now?” I demanded. “Well, are you? Answer me!”

I was violent in my youth and I had grown to become a violent man. It was all I knew, it was what I was good at, something I resorted to when I was scared or angry. I did what I’d learnt how to do, I attacked everything around me. I toppled the IV drip onto the ground, smashing it into pieces. I tossed the cabinet into the air and screamed into the painting.

Two young girls, who looked barely seven years old, came hurrying into the room holding injections. They were tiny, I could snap them both in half like twigs. I would have thought twice about raging if I wasn’t so enraged to begin with.

I fell to the tiled floor. They held me down so that I was trapped, with nowhere to move. I couldn’t believe it; they were sedating me again.

I woke dazed and confused again, something I didn’t like getting used to. I felt the chilly air on my cheeks. It was dark out; a few stars dotted the skies. Hundreds of flaming torches lit the surrounding area. It was some sort of clearing. A lifetime away from the clinical hospital walls. Children chanted. They danced around waving long, wooden sticks above their heads.

I was hot, too hot, boiling in fact. I looked down to find myself trapped inside a pot of boiling water. I had woken up inside a large, black cauldron and I wasn’t alone, two other boiling black cauldrons sat either side of me. These, however, were empty.

I tried to scream, I tried to loosen my hands but couldn’t. I opened my mouth and couldn’t speak a word, every time I did, I felt exhausted, too dizzy to focus. My hands were bound together with heavy duty rope, rubbing my wrists together only made them more painful.

“SILENCE EVERYONE!” Shouted the commanding voice of Brutus, hovering over a throne crafted by twigs and straw.

I watched him walk to me slowly, every step even more powerful than the last. Brutus didn’t bother to look at me, he only addressed the others.

He turned to face everyone; his arms outstretched. “TONIGHT, WE CELEBRATE!”

The crowd cheered, banging wooden tambourines, and applauding loudly.

The boiling water was rising. I was sweltering, sweat dripping down by forehead. I couldn’t feel my feet anymore, they were burnt and yet I was in no pain. Whatever they’d injected me with made me feel numb.

Brutus faced me, bent down to my level and apologised. “I am sorry, I did think you’d be here for longer until you’d plumped up. We could have gotten to know each other a little more before, well, this. Alas, you chose violence.”

I couldn’t tell you what happened next, the world became dark and I could no longer think for myself. I never did find out where I was.