Tales From The Psych Ward 08 - The Final Chapter

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After the security men released her, Cassie came over and stood before me. The tattoo above her pubic bone no longer proclaimed her as Debra's slut. My name was now in the place of Debra's. "I am sorry I failed you, Master. I should not have screamed, but the needles were just too painful."

"You are forgiven this one time, slave," I replied. "But we will find an appropriate punishment later."

Cassie beamed at me in response and then suddenly I was back at the hospital on a Gurney in some sort of recovery room. Cassie lay on a cart next to me.

Dr. Henderson bustled into the room. He ignored the fact that Cassie had suddenly acquired a black leather collar from somewhere and that I now had a black, knit shirt on under my hospital gown. "We have it," he announced joyfully. "And both of you have been implanted. Once the incisions have healed, we can turn the devices on and - if my theories are correct - these catatonic episodes will be no more."

That was all 120 days ago - 30 days for everything to heal and 90 days episode free. Dr. Henderson has declared us "cured" and we are going home. Because Cassie was originally sentenced to psychiatric incarceration, she is technically on parole and needs to be supervised, but since I was never convicted and sentenced for anything considered truly criminal, I can be her supervision. She is moving in with me.

Both of us were packed and ready to go, and Dr. Henderson was giving us final instructions. "You have to wear the recharging headbands at least once every 60 days, and you have to keep your monthly appointments to begin with. We will download the logs off your devices and it will tell us if there has been any unusual activity in your brain. After a few months, you won't even have to come in. The devices will connect to any local WIFI through the charging headbands and with the proper programs we can download and control them remotely. All you have to do is log onto a special website so we can establish the link."

I don't know what else he had intended to tell us because at that point the ward alarm began sounding and the often heard "All orderlies to the day room" cry came over the speakers.

Dr. Henderson took off running down the hallway. Cassie and I followed him, but we were walking, rather than running. Whatever it was that was occurring was not, after all, our responsibility.

When we reached the entrance to the day room, we could see Dr. Susan Barrington standing in the middle of the room surrounded by orderlies. Tears were streaming down her face and she was crying out loudly, "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." She raised her hands toward the ceiling and continued, "Thank you, Wayne. Thank you, Debra."

She was naked and completely hairless, not even her eyebrows remained. A brand new tattoo consisting of intricate vines and roses wound up each leg and came out from between her legs onto her pubic bone where it said in very ornate letters, "Debra's Slut." I had no doubt that on the back there was a tramp stamp with her and Billie's names in mirror images.

As we stood there, Mike the orderly approached us pushing an empty meds cart. "Dr. Henderson asked me to see you off," he said and gestured down the hallway. He laughed and added, "I think that he is going to be a bit busy for a while."

When we were half-way down the hallway, in the dead space exactly between the two security cameras, Mike signaled us to stop. He reached into his pocked and handed me a computer thumb drive. "This is the control program for those implants," he explained. "Complete instructions and passwords are in the 'read.me' file. There is also a 'save - restore' program that will back up the log files and restore it so that any activity in the time between will not be reported the next time you check in. Make sure the charge switch on the headband is turned off and no one knows what you have done. You never know, you might want to switch that little device off once in a while and go traveling. Now that you are Master and slave, it will be much safer for you to explore what is out there."

He then picked up a UV flashlight from the meds cart that was normally used to read the pomm's (proof of medication marks) that were dotted onto some patient's fingernails. He faced me and pulled his white smock slightly to the side and shone the light on his chest. A crest with a crossed tawse and whip appeared for just a second before he switched off the light.

He smiled. "I'm not a member of the local club, but I am in good standing with the national organization."

Another smile and he motioned toward the end of the hallway where our packed bags were still sitting against the wall. We began walking toward the front desk. When we reached the entrance, we could still hear Dr. Barrington yelling even louder, "Thank you, Wayne! Thank you, Debra!"

As we walked through the door and out into our new lives, I spoke softly. "I guess she has finally found her new reality."

Cassie added "And we have found ours."

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END OF STORY

(Epilogue follows)

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EPILOGUE

This is not part of the story, but an answer to several direct comments or questions.

A few have complained that the stories in this series are too choppy and jump suddenly from event to event.

Speaking from personal experience, such jumps are an integral part of Borderline Personality Disorder.

Borderline Personality Disorder means losing time. For a few seconds to a few hours to even a few days, you are somewhere else. One minute it is early evening and you are sitting at your desk studying, the next it is two o'clock in the morning and you are riding your bicycle through the rain-storm / flood channels of the city wearing nothing but a pair of flip-flops. I was able to sneak back in on that occasion, but from then on, I kept a pair of shorts and a T-shirt in a little saddle bag under my bicycle seat.

I never had any memory of what occurred while I was gone, and luckily I never showed up with any permanent injury, scaring or tattoos. People did tell me that I had been "acting strangely" for a while, and often asked what was wrong when I returned and was obviously confused about where I was or what was going on.

When I was very young, I tried to tell people, including my doctor, what was occurring, but they dismissed it as the imagination of a small child. So, I quickly learned to hide what was occurring from absolutely everyone. I have never spoken to family about this and it appears nowhere on any of my medical records.

Because of that, I have never been officially diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, but I exhibit - or have exhibited - almost all of the characteristics and behaviors. Since there has never been any clear "alternate personality" that has shown itself while I was gone, my condition would be considered "marginal."

It probably would have been much harder to hide my condition if I had insisted on a different name or exhibited different gender behavior during the times that I was gone. I am fairly sure I did not, although there are some remarks by my siblings and college roommates that I am not quite sure how to interpret.

Having such lapses in time is, to say the least, disturbing. As a teenager, I once"woke up" almost fifty miles away from home. As I grew older, and was driving, the distance I might be away grew proportionately. Luckily, the time that I was away also shrank as I grew older. Somehow I was able to keep my secret until the episodes finally faded more or less completely. It has been over twenty years since I have had any major episodes, but I continue to live in dread that they will return. It is probably because of that fear that people notice that I have "control issues."

My longest episode occurred when I was in the fifth grade. One day I was suddenly in class and I could tell by the decorations on the wall that it was nearing Thanksgiving. The only problem was that the memory immediately preceding that was of being in a fourth grade classroom approaching Easter. Over six months had passed of which I had absolutely no memory.

I still have a rather tenuous grip on reality, but I can control when I am or am not in total contact with reality. This does have its advantages. I can actually go somewhere else if I am trapped in a really boring situation. And writing is very easy for me because when I write, it is not so much that I create a story as that I live out a story. I envision an alternate reality, and I am there. Things happen to me and around me and I merely describe what is happening. The only problem is that I really don't know for sure how the story will end until it ends because I am living it, not writing it.

When I am writing, sometimes it is interesting; sometimes it is frightening; sometimes it is highly erotic; but for that moment, for me, it is totally and absolutely real.

When the character of this series says, "They have their reality, and I have mine," that is me speaking.

The Technician.

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PoesproppiePoesproppiealmost 4 years ago

Fantastic series thank you for entertaining me!

AnonymousAnonymousover 4 years ago
Wow.

I binged this series in one sitting. It sounds a lot like the characters go mad. It makes me think the two of them are telepaths but don't consciously control it, or that they are controlled by outside forces.

For yourself, I have nothing but respect. It's scary to write about one's own experiences in minute detail and then put them on the Internet for everyone to read. But I'm glad you did this time and added a personal anecdote. It's always illuminating to see inside the mind of someone who has a different reality. Maybe that's why so many people are enthralled by shows like Criminal Minds.

In any case, I expected Henderson to be in on it; not just the orderly. Thanks for the entertaining read.

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