Interview commenced 07:06
I know what this place is, I just... I forget sometimes why I'm here.
Do you remember why you were screaming?
It was... it was the TV. I was in the day room watching the TV. I don't know where everyone else was but the TV was on and it was... it was the kind of thing that’s not usually on. If something like that comes on, They usually come in and switch it over, you know? Who are They, the nurses? ...warders?
I know who you mean.
But they weren’t there. Nobody was there, it was just me and the TV. It was like a... documentary or something? But I couldn’t hear the words. Someone was speaking but it was all muffled, or maybe in another language? But it was the picture. The girl. I could see that. Someone was talking about the girl and the TV was showing her photograph and I didn’t know why and I was trying to remember her name. I don’t even know why I recognised her, and then I remembered I never knew who she was. I didn’t know the girl, but I remembered her face.
And that made you scream?
No, no that came... I was trying to remember her name. I’m sure somebody told me, or said it when I was around, somebody said her name. It could have been on the TV but I couldn’t hear that right. Then I remembered what her screaming sounded like. She wasn’t screaming on the TV, that was just a photograph, but I remembered. I knew. But I couldn’t remember how I knew, does that make sense?
A little.
But do you remember why you were screaming?
The picture changed and there’s some guy talking in like an office, maybe a study or a classroom, I couldn’t tell. And I can’t hear what he’s saying either but he looks so flat. He’s not angry, he’s not sad, but I know he’s talking about the girl and he just seems so... detached. And then it goes back to the photo of the girl and all I can hear is her screaming and then it’s the guy again and he’s just talking like that never happened, like only I heard it. Then there’s another photo on the screen, on the right this time – the first photograph is on the left now – and it’s another girl and I can hear that one screaming as well. They’re both screaming, panic, fear, no words, and that’s all I can hear and I squeeze my eyes closed and that doesn’t make it stop.
And I open my eyes again and there are... photos. I don’t know how many, I can’t count them because I can’t see straight, and all I can hear is all these people screaming, and then the next photo came up on its own and it stopped.
The screaming stopped?
Their screaming stopped.
What was the next photograph?
It’s some other guy. It’s old, black and white. He’s smiling but there’s no warmth there, y’know? I don’t trust him. That voice is running in the background still, like someone talking in the next room? I know it’s talking about the guy, I’m looking at the photograph and I’m trying to remember where I know him from and that’s when I remembered what I did.
I remember the guy is me.
Not just girls, though, and there was no funny business. I’m no pervert, not me. I just needed the parts. They had the parts and I needed them. For the project. But then I saw what I did to get them. All of them. That wasn’t on the TV but I saw it again, and I could hear all the screaming and feel all the blood and it was drowning me and then I knew that it was me screaming. I guess that’s when They came in?
I imagine so, yes.
Why... why am I here?
To see if we can make you better.
Do you think you can?
Well that’s very much up to you.
Do you think you can be better?
I don’t know, it... I don’t want to remember. Is that part of it? I don’t know how I got here. I don’t even know how long I’ve been here, WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO HELP ME?
That attitude isn’t going to help anyone.
You need to calm down.
HOW CAN I BE CALM WHEN YOU WON’T TELL ME WHY I’M HERE--
Interview suspended while a sedative is administered.
Why would that be on the TV? In here? Who’d do that?
There is no TV.
That was you remembering.
Why am I here?
You’re here until you can be better.
Think yourself lucky, many don’t get the chance.
What happens when I’m better? Can I go?
I imagine so, yes.
How will you know when I’m better? How will I know?
We’ll know when we know.
But a lot of it has to do with remembering.
Or not.
So what, you’re... you’re here to... to wipe me? To wipe my memory?
That’s not what I meant.
But I can go when I can’t remember?
That’s not what I meant either.
It’s to do with stripping away the things you’ve done, about finding out what’s underneath all that. Like I said, a lot of people don’t get this chance. Someone must think well of you.
And what if I don’t get better? What if I always just remember? Do I stay here? Is being sorry enough?
That’s not for me to say.
Then how will you know when I’m better? How can I be better if YOU won’t let me out to BE better?
At the moment there’s nowhere else for you to go.
Trust me.
I remember the blood. The drowning.
How do I remember drowning if I’m here?
You were trying to forget.
To forget the screaming? I can’t.
I can’t forget the screaming.
Okay, thank you.
Interview terminated at 07:18.
Appeal denied.
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• Short stories © WorldOfBlackout.co.uk, all entries are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Y'know, mostly.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
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