Part 4 – Slipping Through the Cracks
Title: Slipping Through the Cracks
Author: Harper Kingsley
Character: Franz Caulder/Ryan Wilder, Dr. Pamela Werth, Nicole Carson
Genre: mm
Rating: mature
A/N: Nicole uses the F-word like a lot.
Summary: Locked in a mental hospital, Kid Nitro is falling into the life of an alternate version of himself. Franz Caulder.
Check out: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.
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He felt groggy and out of sync. His body was a heavy suit pulling him down and even though he couldn’t sleep anymore he felt exhausted.
Franz realized that he didn’t react very well to being drugged. The hangover was awful.
He flipped up the hood of his sweatshirt and forced himself to leave his room. Dwelling on things wasn’t going to do him much good. Besides, he thought he was supposed to be hungry. Though it was strange to feel a hollow emptiness in his stomach, yet have next to no appetite at all.
He barely made it halfway toward the dining area when Dr. Werth cut toward with him a serious face on. “We really apologize for what happened yesterday with Bertie. It was unfortunate scheduling and I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“I wasn’t expecting that to happen,” Franz said.
“I know you hoped you were past the point of having panic attacks, but this isn’t a catastrophe. It’s a minor setback, and as long as you promise to keep trying, we can keep moving forward.” She was looking at him with a steady expression of determination.
“I’ll keep trying,” he said.
She smiled and patted him gently on the shoulder, careful to keep her hand in view at all times. “Good, good. You’ve progressed so far, Franz. Now, go get yourself some breakfast. I think Joshua broke out the waffle maker.”
“Yeah. I’ll do that.”
Walking away felt weird and uncomfortable. He hated not knowing how to respond in a given situation. All those years of training wasted by his lousy memory and lack of tactical skills.
Franz ghosted around the edges of the dining area and prepared himself a tray that boasted two perfectly golden waffles slathered with butter and strawberry jam. He picked up a carton of chocolate milk and went to sit across from Nicole.
She’d freaked him out, but at least she was a friendly face. He could feel everyone else’s eyes burning into the sides of his head and forced his shoulders square. He smiled at Nicole. “Good morning.”
She was messily peeling a hardboiled egg, the pieces scattered across an unfolded napkin. She held the egg a few inches away from her mouth as she spoke. “Well, you’re definitely the weirdest fucking thing I’ve seen all day.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on. You had a fucking freak fit outside yesterday. Why the hell are you acting all cheery and bright?” She took a bite, yolk crumbling bright yellow around her lips. “Usually you’d be moping around and sobbing as you write in your diary. What the fuck?”
So Other-Franz wasn’t the kind to bottle it up. That was valuable to know.
He poked at his waffle reluctantly, the golden perfection doing nothing for his lack of appetite. It felt like a waste.
“I’m trying something new,” he said. “That other stuff wasn’t helping me, so I figured it was dumb doing the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result.”
She wagged the last bite of egg at him. “That’s nearly scientific. Who would have thought that pretty face could hide such a brain?”
It was instinctive. His hand moved by itself to cover the left side of his face. It was the classic Phantom of the Opera face hug, his palm hovering over the scar without touching, and it felt strangely right. No one could see as long as he covered it up.
When he realized what he was doing he forced his hand away and down onto his lap. He clasped his right hand tight around his left, fighting his instinct. He bowed his head and held on, his ears burning hot with embarrassment.
Franz had never felt like this in his life. His emotions were all over the place and the body kept doing things without his control. He felt like he was losing himself.
“Sorry. Fuck, you just had one of your episodes, fuck, I am so sorry. There’s no way I was trying to trigger you or anything,” Nicole said. She sounded honestly contrite.
Franz sucked in a gusting breath and held it for a long moment before gently exhaling out through his nose. When he spoke, it was while staring down at butter dripping off his waffles. “It’s not your fault. You just surprised me. And why do you have to talk like that all the time?”
“What the fuck do you mean?” she demanded, then snorted a laugh. “I figure the worse I talk, the more people will pay attention to me. I spent my whole life with no one ever hearing a single word I said. Then the first time I told my mom to go fuck herself… She actually saw me. She might not have liked what she saw, but she *saw* me. It was the first time ever.”
“Wow, that’s strong.”
She scoffed, “No it wasn’t. It bought me a one-way trip to psycho camp. Religion for my spirtual betterment, mortification for my physical well-being, and pretty prancing counselors to provide the temptation. Because punishment and fear of punishment is powerful strong. I would have been better off keeping my mouth shut and letting my mom ignore me until I was out of the house. Because once you’re a freak, then you’ve got to be fixed. That’s the rule.”
“It’s a sucky rule,” Franz said.
Nicole smiled, her eyes shining bright with either tears or defiance; he wasn’t sure which. “You’re damned right it’s sucky. Especially when there wasn’t anything to be fixed.”
“Did your mom send you here too?” He wasn’t trying to pry into anything personal, but he needed to know as much as he could about this world. And he was a bit curious.
“No. The state sent me here.” She pushed her long bangs away from her face with her hand, the lank strands not wanting to stay behind her ears. “My mom didn’t do her research and sent me to the kind of place where sadists earn their paycheck. There was a big raid and all kinds of trials and people went to jail all over the place. And I got declared mentally unfit and there’s no psychologist that will sign off on letting me go. None of them trust that I would keep taking my meds.”
“Would you?” he asked.
She laughed. “Who fucking knows? I’m just some headcase that can’t be trusted on the street. They’ve got like degrees and stuff.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t know what to say.
After breakfast was group therapy. He sat in his usual pose with his arms crossed and his hood up and tried to imagine himself somewhere far away. Completely other than here.
Yet he couldn’t seem to close his ears. The words around him kept getting sucked into his head and unwillingly he was absorbing the things the man was saying in that awful droning voice. Just snatches here and there as Franz tried to will the sound away.
“…drove right over the cliff. There was blood everywhere and parts splattered all… took fifteen people… police… And when I woke up I was in lockup and I knew it was serious. I’d screwed up again. I’d been out of my mind, but the things I did and the people I hurt, I won’t ever be able to forgive myself for that… wonder sometimes why no one ever helped me… I was alone… hurting… I did awful things to survive yet… still feel dead inside…”
That voice was spinning out tendrils that were digging themselves into Franz’s ears, burrowing their way into him. His ears itched and ached and he dug his fingers into his elbows until he couldn’t take it any longer and he covered his ears with his hands.
The man kept talking. The words lost all meaning, becoming nothing but emotions washing over Franz. A dark flood of guilt, horror, despair.
He leaned forward and dug his forehead into his knees as he pressed his hands tight-tight against the sides of his ears. His breath came from him in heaving gasps and tears trickled from between his tightly clenched eyelids. He felt as though something had broken open inside of him and every part of him was being covered in slow moving syrup.
He was drowning with no air to fill his lungs and he felt sounds escaping his throat but he had no control over any of it. All he had the ability to do was hold his ears and pray that he would make it through this moment, that everything was going to be all right.
There was a harsh buzzing sound filling up his head. His keening cries couldn’t cover the painful, grinding *sound* that rang through his skull.
He was dying.
There was the distant whisper of motions and yells from the people around him, but he was too wrapped up to listen. The buzzing was so loud and there were colors swirling around the backs of his eyelids, sickening hues that made his stomach squeeze tight. And through it all there was an endless overflow of tears until even through his misery he could feel them hot against his face and soaking through his pants.
He didn’t know what was happening. Everything was out of control and he didn’t have the wherewithal to focus on anything but what was happening to him.
There was a warm hand on his shoulder and something prickly nudged against the back of his hand. There was the murmur of words, but he couldn’t focus.
The nudging continued until he lifted his head a little and cracked his eyes open. The overhead light stabbed at him, but he blinked until he was able to make out the small white pill cup being waved near his face.
He swung an arm to knock the cup away, but the nurse simply held it out of reach a moment before once again trying to press it on him. It took him a long time to comprehend that the pills were supposed to help him.
He kept trying to say no, but the buzzing was getting so loud that he was surprised the room wasn’t shaking. Finally he snatched the cup and swallowed the pills, choking a little when he drank the offered water.
He lowered his forehead back onto his knees and held onto his head. That hand on his back rubbed soothing circles. He might have pulled away, but that contact felt like an anchor holding him back from the pain swelling in his head.
He stayed there for some immeasurable length of time before he was finally able to unfold himself from the chair and was led back to his room. He kept his eyes tight squeezed shut and his hands on his ears, but the nurse held his elbow gently.
He climbed onto the bed when urged and let his shoes be tugged off. He was covered by the thin blanket. There was a rattling sound and blinds appeared from somewhere to cover the window. The light was switched off and everyone left, the door closing solidly behind them. He was in the dark alone.
Franz curled around his pillow and cried.
He wailed and sobbed and he made sounds deep in his throat that tried to split him apart. The pain ebbed and flowed through his head on the trail of that throbbing sound.
Even knowing that it was all happening inside his head, he still clutched at his ears. It felt as though it was helping.
He soaked his pillow and cried until his breaths were coming in hitching gasps and he felt completely broken open. The bed jerked with each of his hiccuping breaths and whatever those pills had been, he felt as though he were floating in place.
And somewhere he fell asleep.
He was sucked down into the dark, but it only felt like it took a moment. Then he was blinking open crusty eyes and the room seemed much darker than before and his mouth tasted horrible.
Colors throbbed bladelike across the walls, seeping in under that line of light on the door. He huddled around himself as the colors took form, a gibbering monkey in a red jacket with gold epaulets. Then more animals, dancing and cavorting, and there were circus tents in the background and the spinning shadow of the ferris wheel.
Franz watched everything, his eyes stuck at half-mast, gazing fascinated at all of the animals as they performed their show. Then the bear stepped in front of the lion and there was an argument and the monkeys were refusing to let the bear play with them.
Tears pinched the corners of Franz’s eyes and his heart was beating loud and fast in his chest. He could feel it thumping against his ribs.
He tried to climb out of bed and stumbled and fell. He lay sprawled for a moment, but the animals were dancing too close and the ferris wheel was spinning fast enough to leave a blazing trail of light across his eye and the monkey was leering at him and he was absolutely terrified.
He crawled to the door, the blanket tangling around his legs. He kicked it off and reached up to grab the knob with his hand, using it to pull himself to his feet. Then he stumbled out into the light.
One of the white wearing nurses saw him and walked over. It was the one that had made the waffles, Joshua. Franz liked Joshua.
“The monkeys wouldn’t let the bear play and he’s real sad and the light spinning and… I don’t feel good.” He leaned forward and threw up next to his own bare feet.
Joshua’s hands caught him before he could sag and fall. He was led toward a couch when he panicked about going back into his room with *them*. He was settled on a couch and someone wrapped his blanket around him. And throughout it all Joshua stayed next to him, a warm presence, solid and real.
TBC…
[table “24” not found /]
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