Page 27 of Brainwashed
I’m awoken by the sounds of people entering my cell, and it takes me a moment to recall where I am. I fight against the restraints for a few seconds before the memory of my situation sets in and I sigh out of defeat.
Dr. Johansson, Dr. Templeton, and the non-doctor Figueroa waltz back into my cell like they never left, immediately surrounding me once more. They flip the machines back on, and the beeping starts up again.
Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I gaze up at them.
“Good evening, Felix.” Johansson grins down at me. “How are you feeling?”
“Better now that I’ve eaten,” I tell him honestly. “But still pretty stiff from being strapped to this thing.”
He nods, but doesn’t give any indication that he cares about my discomfort. Picking up a medical chart from the nearby counter, he glances over it before coming back to me. Then he removes my glasses.
The world is instantly a bit blurry, which stresses me out. Not having my glasses always puts me on edge. I need to them to see. In fact, I’ve needed glasses since I was six. And I can’t do contacts. Touching eyes gives me the willies.
The increase in beep speed obviously tells them I’m nervous without my glasses, which, of course, they scribble down on their damn clipboards. Johansson launches into his spiel again, stating the date, time, my name, my vitals. They start speaking in some kind of medical jargon I don’t understand, and then Figueroa removes the electrodes from my temples, replacing them with a different device.
I can’t really see it because I can’t move my head and everything is blurry, but from a glance, it looks sort of like two cloth-wrapped poles at my temples which run up into a teepee-shaped hat, attached to another machine.
Figueroa steps away, then comes back with something in his hand. “Open up.”
My blinking becomes rapid, my heart rate increasing at a frantic pace while I shake my head. “No… what is that?”
“I need to put this in your mouth so that you don’t break your teeth or swallow your own tongue,” he says calmly.
My stomach begins to flop around, unease filling me like sand. I shake my head again.
“Felix, you must cooperate,” Johansson says, his tone ominous. I’m just now noticing a slight accent… Maybe Norwegian or German. “If you don’t, things will become much more uncomfortable.”
Part of me nags to keep fighting, to resist what they’re going to do to me, knowing it will probably be very painful. But another part chooses to give in.
Because after all… This is what I deserve.
My lips part slowly and Figueroa stuffs a rubber thing into my mouth. It has a short tube attached to it, I’m guessing so that I can breathe.
They bustle around for only another minute before Johansson says, “Beginning with seventy volts.”
As soon as I hear the wordvolts, my eyes close.This is it.
I knew it was coming, but Jesus… Electroshock therapy?? Fuck my life.
The machine powers on. My hands squeeze into fists. And with no further warning for me…
Zap.
I see white light. I can’t tell if it’s in front of my eyes or behind my eyelids. A burning, searing pain sizzles the skin of my temples, every muscle in my body tense and bunched. But that’s not the part I’m focusing on.
The pain seems visible. It’s something I can see, or that I could even reach out and touch, like a being before me. In an instant, my thoughts are transformed into lines of running code, like I’m a machine.
Then it goes blank, as if I’ve been turned off.
When the throbbing pain finally dulls a bit, I groan around the obstruction in my mouth. And I think,alright. That wasn’t so bad. I’m still alive.
Until…Zap!
Another one.
I’m wheezing and groaning, but it doesn’t feel like it’s coming from me. I don’t remember where I am or what’s going on. It just hurtsso bad. My brain is being fried. It’s hot. I think I canfeelthe heat inside my skull.
I’m begging andpleadingwith them to stop, but no words are coming out. They can’t hear me, because I’m not speaking. And after a few moments, I realize that I’m crying. Tears are tumbling down my cheeks, and they feel like acid on my skin.
