Shades of Grey
Chapter 78: The Treatments Begin

MURIAS ASYLUM— MARCH 1844

My next meeting with Dr. Kingsmith was two days later, just after breakfast.

“Did she weave her well-mannered magic with you?” Isabella asked as we sat together out in the courtyard with Kam, Ophelia and Cyrus. “She puts on a front of courtesy, but eventually she forgoes the pleasantries and begins to unearth what she wants you to think is the reason behind your ‘insanity’.”

I looked at her anxiously, recalling my paralysis during the last meeting and what sorts of devices the doctor would employ next.

“She was polite until I told her that I really was sent here by a wizard. Then she sent paralyzing electric fire into my body,” I said, rubbing my sore muscles. They all nodded, knowing what I meant.

“They call that the Interitum, a machine that sends an electric pulse through your body and paralyses you. Think of it as a compliment though. It means she fears you,” Isabella replied through a bite of her breakfast.

“Why should she fear me?” I queried.

“You are different. They don’t like things that are different,” Ophelia said matter-of-factly.

I sighed, leaned back in my chair and relaxed my arms as the residual throbbing began to decrease when I then noticed two orderlies trek across the courtyard with an older male patient, the black tattoos prominently shining on their wrists.

“Do all the asylum staff members wear black flame tattoos?” I asked.

They nodded.

“Yes. We don’t know what it is, but all of the orderlies and doctors have it,” Kam said studiously.

“What could it be?” I asked.

“Well, the rumour is that it is some sort of communication spell so that Kingsmith can tell the orderlies which patients to bring her, but I think it’s some sort of mind-control incantation so that the Board can dictate absolutely everything that occurs in the Asylum. It’s just another way of turning us into brainwashed jingos!” Kam raved.

Isabella laughed.

“Good Lord, Kam,” she exclaimed. “You’re so dramatic sometimes.”

At that moment, Meg nonchalantly swept past our table and leaned over Isabella to check her tags and adjust her uniform. To any passing employee, it would look like a nurse taking care of a patient. Those of us at the table, however, heard her hushed words.

“Kingsmith is furious with the lot of you.”

“Why?” Isabella asked quickly.

“You are exactly the people she tried to keep separated, all the patients with ideas of revolution. She has big plans for your next meeting, Miss Echo.”

She gave me a worried look, but I just smiled.

“I’ve got big plans for her as well.”

Meg and the others gave me relieved smiles, but all were still visibly tense.

“Echo!” called a different orderly from across the room. The six of us jumped in unison suprise. “Time for your next meeting!”

Isabella and Meg both gave me a look of encouragement.

“Be strong,” Meg urged softly.

I nodded, unsure of myself and still unsteady on my throbbing feet. I joined the orderly and he locked my wrist cuffs onto my belt before making the same trek to Dr. Kingsmith’s office. I kept my gaze fixed on the floor as my body began to twitch in anticipation of the electric Interitum.

The orderly knocked twice when we again reached the door.

“Enter,” responded Dr. Kingsmith.

We entered the room and I was once again strapped to the chair. I stiffened as the orderly roughly moved my aching muscles. Dr. Kingsmith noticed this and grinned.

“Still sore from our previous meeting?”

She punctuated this sentence with a muffled malevolent chuckle. I furrowed my brow, choosing not to respond. She saw my restraint and nodded, straightening her papers and looking them over as she leaned back in her chair.

“Thank you, Byron,” she said flatly as the orderly finished strapping me down and promptly left the room. The doctor looked through her papers and then up at me with a condescending glare.

“Grey, I’m going to perform what is called a word association test. I will say a word and you say the first thing that comes to mind, alright?”

I nodded, settling back in my chair.

“Identification,” she began, speaking slowly and assuredly.

“Grey,” I responded quickly.

“Mother.”

“Doctor.”

I heard the quick scratches of her pen as she took notes in her folder. She then looked up and continued with the test, both of us now responding with rapid-fire swiftness.

“Father.”

“Writer.”

“Education.”

“Simple.”

“Location.”

“Prison.”

“Home.”

“Lies.”

“Soul mate.”

“Cam.”

“Vendetta.”

“Marina.”

“Hell.”

“Asylum.”

“Fear.”

“Nonexistent.”

Dr. Kingsmith stood, visibly perturbed. I grinned to myself, enjoying my transitory moment of triumph.

Thank you Lady Arva for those hours of interrogation practices, I thought to myself, remembering the lessons in year five where Lady Arva drilled us in a similar manner, teaching us to think on our feet and to not divulge any vital information, in the event we were ever captured or tortured. The doctor did not appreciate this particular skill.

“I don’t usually do this with my patients so soon after meeting them, but you leave me no choice.”

Dr. Kingsmith reached down below her desk and pulled out a wooden box with small holes in the lid. I heard the scurrying of small feet inside and I grew nervous. I clenched the chair anxiously. The doctor noticed.

“You say that your fear is nonexistent, but all insanity stems out of some sort of fear: fear of disease, fear of men, fear of intimacy, e.t.c… I intend to find that fear and use it to help you recover. Do you understand?”

I glared at her.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

She then took a handkerchief from her coat pocket and folded it over my eyes.

“What are you doing?” I asked with more alarm.

“Ssh, calm yourself. It is all for the betterment of your mental health.”

I heard a decisive click as she opened the lid of the wooden box and the scuttling grew louder. Something had just been released.

I gasped aloud in surprise as I felt small feet scurrying up my legs and settling at the base of my neck. I remained quiescent in fear as I felt whiskers brush against my skin. I gave a cautious sniff and searched my memory for a similarly potent smell.

“A rat,” I said decidedly.

“Very good,” remarked Dr. Kingsmith. “Rats are a common enough fear to start with...”

I relaxed and laughed lightly.

“I’ve been travelling for over a year. I’ve slept outside in forests and in alleyways with rabid dogs and hungry vermin. You really think I’ll be frightened of a rat?”

I could almost feel the smile slip from Dr. Kingsmith’s face. Moments later I felt her remove the rat from my neck and the blindfold from my eyes.

“This is only the beginning, Grey,” she hissed in my ear. “I will find what you fear and I will cure you.”

I sneered.

“You will die searching.”

Dr. Kingsmith’s methods became increasingly more cruel and sadistic over our next several meetings. She would blind me and expose me to numerous common phobias, covering everything from scorpions and snakes to bats and spiders. It didn’t help matters any that my sleeping patterns were unerringly disturbed by similar nightmarish images from Forma in Verrilius’s dungeons, leaving me exhausted and lethargic during each session as Dr. Kingsmith grew more reckless.

“Damn, she’s really determined to break you,” Ophelia remarked to me three weeks later while we sat at a chess table in the recreation room with Kam, Cyrus and Isabella. My eyes moved slowly around the room, eyeing each of the orderlies as they stood at all of the doors, monitoring the patients with apathetic eyes.

“The spiders nearly got to me, but instead I managed to tip the chair in her direction and felt all the spiders fall onto her. I couldn’t see, but her shrieks of fright were certainly enough to paint a picture in my mind,” I laughed, moving my pawn. Isabella laughed as well.

“I wish I had the power to withstand the doctor,” Ophelia replied, drinking her water and moving one of her more advantageously placed pawns closer towards Kam’s king.

“What makes you think you can’t withstand her?” I pressed.

“No one ever has,” responded Kam. “Her methods are too strong for the majority of us.”

I looked at their sad faces and saw the determination within them: they wanted nothing more than to watch this place burn. Failure was no longer an option: I had to free these people…

I turned to them with unvaccilating vigour.

“On my life, I swear to you that I will see this place destroyed. I will bring down Kingsmith and the bloody Board if it is the last thing I do.”

The others nodded to me gratefully, but I could tell they still had reservations.

As if to directly affirm my statement, a dark scream suddenly broke the steady murmur of recreational banter in the rec room. We all turned sharply to the source of the abrupt noise.

A woman I had come to know as Marie was on the ground, rocking and shaking as the orderlies brought a man into the room. The four of us gasped aloud.

The man was seated in a wheelchair with dark circles beneath his blank eyes as he twitched and convulsed erratically, several bruises and lacerations scattered over his arms.

“I see she’s recovered from her disappointment with you,” remarked Isabella.

“Why do you say that?” I asked. “Who is he?” S~ᴇaʀᴄh the Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“His name is Marius DuLoc. He was a French writer on his way home before he stumbled through Murias and dared to threaten the Board’s regime. Marie was his wife and ‘assistant’ of sorts. I’m surprised, actually; he’s held up quite well to her weekly torment until now. I wonder what changed…” pondered Isabella.

I stared over at Marius, twitching and groaning like a dying wolf, when I noticed a prominently fresh black flame tattoo on his wrist. My intrigue grew to a suspicion that was strong enough to act on. Something had to be done.

“Ha! Checkmate!” cried Isabella in triumph as she captured my king. “I win again!”

“Yes you do,” I remarked mechanically, my attentions elsewhere.

“Would you like to lose one more time?” she teased with a smile.

The others laughed but I frowned in thought, an idea growing…

“If one was to spread knowledge in this place without alerting the nurses or the orderlies, how would one go about it?” I asked quietly.

Isabella and the others gave deviously comprehensive smiles.

“Leave it to us,” Kam said with a grin. “Between us and the Morrigan sisters, we know every sane person in this place. Your message will be circulated in no time.”

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