Voices III

The following story is for Liam Storm's 1984 challenge...

*** Reader Beware!!! ***

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It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.

Timothy was counting them as he hid beneath his blankets, half-asleep: eight tolls of the bells, nine tolls, ten tolls, eleven tolls... Each chime echoed in his mind pulling him closer to comfort. Timothy was expecting the next toll to be the last, the twelfth toll signifying high noon. As that twelfth toll arrived, Timothy snuggled in the warmth of his blankets, ready for a long afternoon snooze.

But what happened next turned his entire world upside down - a thirteenth toll of the bells. That’s impossible. He was flustered. That thirteenth toll shattered the peaceful calm that had brought him to sleep.

Timothy felt a wrenching shock within his gut. He was wide awake, his head still buried under his covers. Fear clawed at his mind as he was afraid to peek out to see what was going on. He heard the rustling of metal carts and the buzzes and beeping of computers and cellphones.

He remained under cover until an alarming rat-tap-tap-tap sounded in the room—a sharp and sudden noise that sent waves of doom and despair through his mind. Timothy’s world went dark.

He felt the gripping fingers of large, strong hands taking hold of his wrists as he was forcefully lifted from beneath his blankets.

He looked around in surprise. Timothy was in the hospital.

“Why am I here? What’s going on?” Timothy yelled.

“It’s time for your shower,” the bulky, muscular man answered as he untied the restraints that were fastened around Timothy’s waist and ankles.

“Why am I tied down to my bed?”

“Remove your clothes so you can shower,” the man demanded.

“I’m not taking my clothes off. Tell me what’s going on.”

The man proceeded to rip Timothy out of his bed. Timothy kicked, punched, and bit as the man literally tore off his hospital gown and underwear.

Timothy bit through the man's arm, and the man slapped his face so hard it felt as if it had been ripped open.

The man grabbed hold of Timothy like he was a ten-pound baby and strapped him into a wheelchair.

“This is what you get when you resist,” the man growled at Timothy.

“This is abuse. I will get my lawyers on you.”

“You have no rights in here, Timothy. You belong to me.”

The man pushed the wheelchair down a long, cold, steely, dark hall while Timothy continued to shout and yell for help, but there was no one to heed his calls.

Once in the shower room, the man pushed the wheelchair into the stall and turned the water on to the hottest temperature.

“Ahhhg! You’re burning my skin. Stop this torture!” Timothy yelled in anguish and pain, beginning to weep with terror.

“This is your ride through hell, Timothy. What comes around goes around.”

The man turned off the water, and Timothy felt a brief relief amidst the sensitivity of his reddened skin.“

What do you mean by that,” Timothy asked, shaking his head, “What comes around goes around?”

“We’ve done enough talking for today, Timothy.”

The man grabbed a needle from his coat pocket and injected Timothy's nude body with methohexital, rendering him unconscious in less than 30 seconds.

Several minutes later, Timothy woke up still strapped to the wheelchair. He was dressed in a hospital gown and seated at a table in what looked like an interrogation room.

His head was pounding with intense pain, and he felt extremely lethargic. He tried to yell for help but was unable to.

Within a minute, a tall, middle-aged man dressed in a royal blue suit and black patent leather shoes entered the room and sat at the table across from Timothy.

“Hello, Timothy, my name is Hermann Szyzell. I’m a public defender with the county of Orange, and I have been assigned to your case.”

“Wait, what? What’s going on?”

“Timothy, you’re in a correctional mental health facility in Orange, California.”

“Why? Why? What happened?”

“You killed your mother, Timothy.”

Timothy’s world became unbalanced as he felt hot flashes radiate through his body and he became weak and lightheaded.

“No, no! I love my mother. No! Why?” The words barely left his lips before the truth hit like a sledgehammer.

“Timothy, it was brutal. You bit her face off.”

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Liam Storm's 1984 Challenge...

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If you haven't already you can read the previous chapters of this story:

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Yours truly, RHC 🖤

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