Page 19 of The Beast

I have no control.

It bounces around my mind like an echo, telling me that wherever I am, it’s because somebody told me to be here. I can’t think for myself. That voice in my head is telling me not to make a fuss. You have no say in how you live your life. It’s in somebody else’s hands.

As my eyes flicker, I make out shapes all around me. Then I register two black shapes that are different to the rest.

I hear voices, deep, angry, hopeful voices, that appear to be shouting. They are loud, urgent and firm. ‘Listen to them’, my inner voice says.‘Do what they say at all times’.

I struggle to open my eyes and as I do, the shapes come into focus, and I’m alarmed to find I can’t move. Something is pinning me down and my first reaction is to scream, but nothing comes out. A silent scream. Is this part of the dream?

A rough hand strokes my face, and a husky voice whispers, “It’s Alessandro, baby, you’re safe now.”

Another voice interrupts, “It’s Angelo, talk to me.”

I don’t understand them. Who are they?

The noise increases and the shapes leave, but they are replaced by different ones, all calling out with an urgency that scares me a little.

I am touched, somebody is touching me, and I flinch as if it burns. My heart is thumping, I’m in danger, I must run. They want to hurt me.

I make to move, and somebody holds me down. I try to fight, but then they float away again on a cloud, leaving me back in blissful solitude.

It seems like days but could be seconds when I visit that place again. They’re here, controlling me, making me do what they want. I’m a prisoner, I must escape. I can’t think of anything else and as I struggle to open my eyes, I’m aware that I’m crying. I don’t cry, I can’t cry. Why am I crying?

Once again, I am held down on either side and I try to snatch my hands away from the strong ones holding me.

“Stop fighting. You’re safe now.” The deep voice to my right sounds angry.

“Please baby, you’re safe. Nothing will hurt you.”

The voice to my left says.

“Let me go.” Somehow my voice quivers on the edge of the conversation and it doesn’t sound like me. Then again, how do I know what I sound like because who am I, anyway?

Suddenly, my hands are released, and I feel victorious. I’m free. I’m allowed to leave.

A huge smile breaks out across my face and then I detect urgent whispers and strange sounds—machines, I’m guessing. What is this place?

Then another voice floats out of the fog. A kind, gentle voice, full of compassion. “My name is Doctor Carmichael. You’re in the hospital.”

“Am I sick?” My voice quivers with uncertainty, almost as if I forgot I had one.

“We don’t know. We need you to wake up so we can assess you.”

“I’m awake.” If I could, I’d roll my eyes because can’t he see that? We’re having a conversation, aren’t we?

The silence calms me and gives me the courage to open my eyes a little. Have they gone? Am I alone again? It’s safer that way.

The room swims into focus, and I see a concerned pair of eyes staring into mine. He seems kind. I like that. He makes me feel safe, so I smile shyly.

“Do you remember your name?” He asks a dumb question that makes me laugh. “Of course.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s…”

I stop because what the fuck is my name?

“It’s…” I search for it in my memory, but it’s gone. Where the fuck is my memory? There’s nothing there.

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