Freak Unique ~ Chaper Two

He stood still for a moment, not moving an inch. His body postured like a statue and his hands at his sides, curled into fists. It seemed like he was angry at something, and that person was probably me. He didn’t like me very much, actually, he couldn’t stand me. But that didn’t matter very much as the feeling was mutual.

His hair was short and shaggy, the colour of it now becoming white as the bronze colour slowly faded. Wrinkles were worn into his forehead; his face was creased with age. He was a serious man, his face gaunt and withered. Giving away no feelings, he glowered his stony, black eyes at me. I met his powerful gaze, unable to help it. He wore a pair of black-rimmed glasses that were lowered below the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t very handsome, I can tell you that.

I felt my heart drum as he took a step forward towards me. I had to admit that I was afraid of this man, afraid of what he could do to me. He wasn’t wearing a suit today, not like he usually did. That was strange, he’d always said that a smart dressed person was a respectable one. He was wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt, one that showed of the muscles on his arms. Red-gashes crisscrossed along each of his arms, though they were slowly fading to scars.

I cowered further back on the bed. I was sure that he was wearing this for my benefit, to show me what I’d done to him. Was I capable of that? I didn’t realise I was so strong. I could barely remember what happened now, the only image that came to my mind whenever I thought about it was the needle. That was more than a week ago now and I hadn’t seen him since.

He drew closer, his arms outstretched.

“Ollie darling!” he mocked in the tone of my father. I could already feel my blood boiling. He’d been listening in on our conversation. Curling my hands into fists I resisted the urge to hit him. That wasn’t going to make things any easier for me, and, he could always get back-up, like he had done so many times before.

“It’s been a while hasn’t it? Did you miss me?” he asked, slightly touching my shoulder. I flinched, hating the feel of his cold, hard hands on me. I sat back down quickly, hoping that just this once he wouldn’t notice my wet sheets. Looking over his shoulders I searched for my dad, expecting him to be there. He’d promised me he’d be here, I didn’t want to be alone with him for much longer.

“Daddykins isn’t coming,” he laughed, seeing the fear in my eyes. I didn’t believe him. My dad would come, he always came.

“I don’t blame him. After last week he should keep it on a leash, monster.” he spat, saliva rolling down his chin. It. The word rang through my mind. That was all I was to him. He hardly ever used my real name, It was more preferable. I didn’t know why that was, I was less than human to him.

“It?” I asked, even though I knew what answer he’d give me. The same one he always gave me when I questioned him about it.

“You. It, you, same thing. I see its wet the bed again, dirty dog. Does it not understand rebelling will be disciplined?” I cringed, looking down hard at the brown coloured floor below me.

“I cant help it,” I muttered, my voice nearly breaking. I was unable to stop my body from shaking. Why did he hate me so much? What had I ever done to him? I just wanted him to get this operation over and done with.

“Don’t fool me. It can sleep in that until it learns not to do it again.” I nodded, was that the best he could do? A few dirty sheets for a couple of nights wasn’t going to change things. I avoided his eyes, trying to look disappointed, though inside I was smiling. Dad usually changed my sheets anyway, without The Doctor knowing nothing about it.

“Does it not think I’m serious? It will learn, things will change.”

“The only way things will change is when you leave for good,” I told him, wishing that I hadn’t said anything. I was surprised at myself for finding the guts to stand up to him. Did he really think that punishing me was going to stop my bed problem?

“It will pay for that remark. I’m still expecting something from it as well.” he smirked, lightly touching his arms.

“You’re your father’s son, I can tell you that. Brought you up well, didn’t he?” I didn’t understand what he meant by this. My father wasn’t violent. Yes, he had a temper but he’d never been violent towards me. He was more the opposite: he wouldn’t harm a hair on my head.

“Well?” he asked me. I stayed quiet, I wasn’t going to do it. I didn’t care what my father said. I couldn’t bring myself to apologize to this man. I’d rather him examine me repeatedly then have to say those words. I had to stand up to him somehow. I hated the way he treated me, the way he looked at me, the way he acted towards me. Like I wasn’t human, as if my life wasn’t worth anything. But I suppose all doctors were like this, maybe I was lucky. I had no idea what other people’s doctors were like. At least I had only two more years left of this, then I’d be free of him.

“I’m waiting,” he said, tapping his foot on the ground in impatience. He was going to have to wait a long time. Nausea swept through, my throat burned like it was on fire. I hated this man, I couldn’t stand him. I didn’t care who he was or how powerful. I hated him with every fibre of my being.

I shook my head at him, “No,” I stuttered. I knew that he was going to make this whole thing a lot harder for me now, but I didn’t care. Anything had to be better than losing my dignity and pride. At least I knew what it meant to have that.

“No? Oh well, may as well get this started then. Come one!” my heart pounded hard against my chest. My forehead burned like fire and I suddenly felt very dizzy. Not now. Please not now. He couldn’t do this to me. He made a grab for my arm, but I backed away in time. He knew my father had to be there. He wouldn’t let me do this alone.

“Now? You can’t. My dad…” I began, thinking of some excuse. I was not going to let him be alone with me.

“Leonard doesn’t really need to know, does he? You and I both know how obsessed he gets, it would be best if I just left him out of it this time” he said, a grin spreading across his face.

“Where is he? What have you done to him?” I asked, nerves running through me. My father should be here, he always was.

“Nothing. Nothing that will cause him any harm, it doesn’t have to worry about that.” his grin grow bigger. There had to be something he wasn’t telling me. He paused for a moment, not moving. Then, he grabbed my arm so fast that I didn’t have time to think. He held onto me tight, digging his nails hard into my skin. I couldn’t get away now. I didn’t say anything, didn’t cry for help. What would be the point? No one would help me. I just let him lead me out of the door. I knew what would happen if I struggled.

He led me through the dark and dusty corridors and up another flight of stairs. We past many rooms as we walked by. There was a room that had more than twenty beds in it. Rooms that were filled with instruments and weird equipment that I didn’t understand. There was even a room that just consisted of a small chair, nothing else. The walls were grey and grimed with dirt and the stone floor looked years old. The front of the door had a big, heavy lock on it that looked rusty and unmoveable. I shuddered, thinking about who’d been locked up in that room and why. I could imagine their fists banging on the door, pleading to be let out. Their fingers scratching hard on the wooden door.

One of my favourite rooms in this place had to be the library. I always went there when my father let me out. I loved it, though I didn’t think the doctor would be pleased if he knew about it. It was the only place I could learn about things, about life and what it was like. I was so glad that he’d taught me to read, that was one of the things I appreciated about my father. I’d usually stay there for hours, until my father called me, taking a book and hiding it under my top. I’d sometimes even play a game with myself, acting like a spy. I’d pretend that the book was a treasured object, some sort of jewel that I had to keep it hidden from the evils of the doctor and my father. I’d think of new hiding places every time, hiding it in places they couldn’t ever imagine. But I didn’t play it so much now.

He dragged me up yet another flight of stairs, and I knew we where going to the room. THE room. The room that haunted my mind day and night. The room that made my mind go weak and my memory’s fuzzy. The room that never changed. Out of all the rooms in this place, this was the worst. As we entered the room the brightness of the room hit me first. The walls were painted the purest white along with the marbled floor below me. When first entering it gave the feeling of innocence, that nothing could happen to you here, nothing could hurt you. But really that’s just a trick. It’s nothing like that at all.

The metal framed operating table lay in the middle of the room. Beside this table was a side table, upon it a silver tray that had instruments of a medical nature spread across it. I drew my eyes away from these, now looking at the white wall ahead. I didn’t want to look at them, did not want to think about them. Though they always managed to get into my dreams, turning them into nightmares. At times I was too afraid to let myself escape into sleep. I shut my mind, emptying it of all thoughts, trying not to think about anything. It was easier this way. Easier to let him do what he needed and get it over with.

He turned away from me, turning towards the tray that contained the instruments. Flinching, I looked away from him as I saw him picking up something sharp in his hands. I heard a laugh, then the sound of metal scraping as he dropped the needle back into the tray. Even thinking about needles made me shudder. I know that I should be used to them by now, I had them every year and occasionally more often than a year if I wasn’t doing what I was supposed to. The smell was the worst, the smell of rust and blood. I could already taste it. I could already feel the thirst of the blood-sucking needle. It’s sharp, metal point ready to inject me with its venom and take with it as much blood as it could. Blood. I felt sick even thinking abut that word.

I had a weak stomach, would grow dizzy at the slightest hint of blood. I have to admit that sometimes I’ve fainted. I even have my own breathing technique for when it happens. Breathe in and out deeply through my mouth. Try to stay calm. Don’t panic. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. But my father was the one to blame for this phobia because he suffered from the same thing.

I remembered when I was young, I had fallen and cut my knee on something sharp. My father panicked, not knowing what to do as the blood ran down my leg. I too became scared, crying and screaming at this strange liquid coming out of me. He tried his hardest, bandaging the cut while trying not to faint. In the end he managed it without fainting but from then on I became scared of anything that looked like blood or anything happening that may have caused me to bleed. I felt dizzy now even thinking about it. I bit down on my lip hard, trying to keep down the nausea that would surely rise any minute. I hadn’t even seen blood yet and I was feeling dizzy. I had to stop thinking about it, I knew it annoyed the doctor when I was like this.

He turned now to face me, no emotion on his face. I knew what I had to do, what he was waiting for me to do. But I wasn’t going to do it until he asked me first.

“Well come on! I haven’t got all day,” he spat impatiently. I sighed, this was the worst part. I started to take my top of slowly, if I had to do this then I wanted to make it as slow as possible for him.

“I said, I haven’t got all day” he yelled at me, roughly tearing at my clothes until all I had left on was boxers. I shivered, feeling vulnerable. I felt my face turn red again, my embarrassment showing through my cheeks. I wished that my dad was here, he wouldn’t let the Doctor treat me this bad. He took out something metal from his pocket, securing my left arm to the chair with it. This was different, he hadn’t done that before. I didn’t like it, he could do anything to me now. I couldn’t believe he was doing this to me, though I shouldn’t be surprised at anything he did.

“You don’t have to do that, I’m not going anywhere.” he ignored me, glaring his cold, stone eyes at me. I felt like crying, but I forced myself not to. I couldn’t let out any emotions in front of him.

“Best not take any chances,” Then he turned towards the tray, pulling out one of the instruments. He checked all over my body. In my ears, my eyes, even my nose. Every slight touch of his hard, rough hands made me squirm in my seat.

“Mouth!” he ordered, shaking me unexpectedly. I opened my mouth wide, allowing him to check my teeth and gums. He seemed happy about my teeth, muttering something under his breath that sounded like “Perfect” I didn’t know why, what was so perfect about teeth? He checked my hair next, asking me questions about Lice and Dandruff, as I told him I had no idea what those words meant. He always made me feel like I was stupid, like I didn’t know anything. I realise that I don’t know much about the world. I knew that I was stupid, but I didn’t like him telling me so.

 “Does it itch?” he now asked. I didn’t understand why he would want to know this, what did my hair have to do with anything?

“Sometimes,” I mumbled, not really sure of what answer to give him.

“Oh, just shut it. Stupid,” he grumbled at me, fetching something from the tray that looked like a small comb. He went through my hair with it, digging it hard into my scalp. I winced in pain, my head aching. After he finished he cut a strand of my hair, placing it in a test-tube as I wondered what he was going to do with it. There was no point in asking him, he would only ignore me and tell me to shut up.

“Slight bruising here. Can you feel it?” he ran his fingers softly along the bruises that I had on my legs and stomach.

“Yes, I can.” I said. Of coarse I could feel it, what sort of question was that? Did he think that I was incapable of feeling pain?

“Sure?” he asked again, his fingers pressing down harder. I tried my best to ignore him knowing that he was only trying to aggravate me and get back at me for attacking him.

“Really?” his fingers pressed harder.

 “Yes, I said that” I replied, nodding my head. “And how does that make it feel?” he said, pressing down so hard this time that I couldn’t help but wince from the pain. A stupid question I thought, he knew that. This was all because of last week, he just wanted to punish me further.

“Pain,” I said bluntly. What else could I feel?

“No, idiot. I mean, how does it make it feel? Me doing this to it?” how did it make me feel? I wasn’t going to tell him that.

“I see, its too stupid to understand, or incapable of expressing any feelings.”

“Angry,” I answered him, knowing that it would be the easiest option. I wasn’t going to tell him what else I was feeling. I didn’t want him knowing just how little he made me feel.

“Angry? What does it feel like doing?” he knew that answer before I even replied, the hard glare I gave him was enough.

“If it can’t control its anger than maybe it needs to be alone again. Or maybe I should prescribe it some tablets, that should help.” he laughed, jeering. I had the urge to hit him, but I knew that wouldn’t get my anywhere. I didn’t want last week to happen again. I clenched my fists, trying to control the feeling that was bubbling like a volcano, ready to erupt inside me. I had to keep myself under control. I couldn’t let myself loose it.

“Has Leonard been naughty? Tut, tut.” he mocked, now referring to the bruises on my body. I sighed. He always had to make some stupid comment about my father. He wasn’t like that.

“I fell. Down the stairs.” Which was true. I did fall. Though I couldn’t remember what had happened, I could only see the image of my father’s shadow standing over me. I knew he didn’t push me, and even if he had, it wasn’t on purpose. I could tell that by the look on his face. I woke up from unconsciousness to him sobbing and crying by my feet. Now, that was pretty scary. I had no idea what he was doing. For a moment I even thought I was dying or something. He’d never done anything like that before. It was like he was getting worse.

by vickb