Page 12 of Straightjacket

“Look at her, dangling like a fish.” The guard who had me pinned down, cackles, his black gaze roaming over my exposed body.

“We’ve caught a good one here!” The other joins in. They both feed each other's sick flames until a voice breaks them up and I instantly recognise it, the man who was in my house, the one who took us and brought us here.

“Open the shutter.” He demands, his voice professional and stern.

Shutter? What shutter?

I flick my gaze around the room in quick succession noting that all the walls are plain, that is until the one in front of me begins to open. A buzzing sound can be heard as it rises upwards, slowly revealing my own reflection. Inch by inch, my battered body is revealed to me, and I quickly clamp my eyes shut, not wanting to see myself in this state.

Too ashamed of what I’ve been forced to become.

At the left of me, the guard begins to rub his hands together, a sinister grin on his face, and I’m left to hang here, wondering what else could possibly happen here.

“Welcome to Salem Penitentiary, Iris. It’s so nice to have you here.” The man’s voice rings out again, but he’s nowhere to be seen, so there must be a speaker somewhere that I missed.

A stab of anger prickles at my neck, forcing the shame away. “Fuck you.” I spit out.

“Now that’s no way to treat your host, is it? I thought by now that you would have learned some manners, but it would seem the therapy isn’t working.”

“You call this fucking therapy?” I scoff. “You’re a sick freak!”

He chuckles through the speaker, sending a cold chill down my spine. “Yes, I won’t lie about that statement, you’re quite correct but seeing as you haven’t learnt anything, you’ve forced me to take your therapy up a level.”

At his threat, my mind begins to spiral, thoughts whizzing around a million miles an hour. How much more of this can I take? What does he want with us? Is Silas even alive? What if he thinks I’m dead?

Oh God, I’m gonna die here.

Tears blind my vision and I rapidly blink my eyes to clear them away, yet it does nothing to stop them from running down my face. Each droplet falls away from my chin, and the ache in my shoulders grows increasingly painful the longer I hang here, waiting in limbo to find out what my fate will be.

“Screw you, and screw your sick thera–”

The words get lodged in my throat when the mirror in front of me clears, forcing me to look at my worst nightmare. Rawness rips my chest apart, and I can feel every single tendon around my heart snapping at the image before me.

“No... no, no, no... please! Please, what have you done?!” I wail in physical agony. “You... you can’t do this to him! He... it’s too quiet for him!”

The love of my life stands in the middle of an empty room. A bright orange jumpsuit covering his large frame, his arms bound around him by a stark white straightjacket. Blood coats the pieces of his face that I can see that aren't covered by a muzzle. Around his eyes is a black mask, blocking out his sight and over his ears are what seem to be noise cancelling headphones. Chains wind around his hips that lead to a bolt on the floor.

Silas can’t cope with the silence; he told me so himself and now that’s been taken away from him. He visibly shakes and I’m witnessing his distress firsthand.

I’m desperate to close my eyes because I don’t think my soul can deal with seeing him like this. He was never meant for this. We made it out of the other side together; he was happy and free from the torment that plagued him. And now, he doesn’t have that. The freedom he once tasted has now gone sour, leaving a bitter taste in the mouth.

“Just let him go, please.” I start to beg as pained sobs claw up from my stomach.

From the corner of the room, the very same man who was in my house enters through a door and walks around Silas, giving him a wide berth before stopping at the clear mirror. Malice covers his face, a true monster staring back at me. I can see the blackness in his eyes, how empty and void of life they are. There isn’t an ounce of humanity in that man, just a sickening creature living in a human form. Wearing his skin like a suit.

He pushes up his glasses then presses down on a button, allowing his voice to ring through the speaker. “You see, my boy here wasn’t well behaved either, so the only way to combat this terrible behaviour is to bring you both into therapy, together. How does that sound?”

“He isn’t yours!” I lash out.

“Oh, but he is. I claimed him first, before you managed to dig your claws into him.”

“Then why are you doing this?!” Frustration hammers against my skull and the more I swing my body around, the more the handcuffs are cutting into my skin, forcing thin beads of blood to trail down my arms.

“Because I’m his doctor. Can’t you see he needs my help? This boy is damaged.” He swings his arm out, gesturing towards Silas, who has no idea that I’m right in front of him.

I spit the lingering taste of piss and vomit out of my mouth towards the mirror. The sticky mess slaps against the glass then trails down in a thick glob. “I hope he kills you, and if he doesn’t then I will.”

The doctor chuckles at my threat, then presses the button again. “Your threats are empty in here, Miss Winter.” He gives me a pointed stare, then flicks his gaze between the guards who have been incredibly silent, beside me. “Make it hurt, and I’ll up your paycheck.”