Part 3
Augusta wanted to rest, to sleep, to slide into the unconscious slumber the pills offered, but to do so was to give up. She wasn’t ready to give up. To remain in control, she hid the pills between her teeth and cheek and spat them back out when the orderly left the room.
It wasn’t easy staying awake. The first eight hours she’d spent strapped into a strait jacket, her arms crossed over her chest in a mock hug. It kept the Other from using her left hand against her, but it was a claustrophobic nightmare that she had to endure. Eventually, she was able to relax enough that she could breathe normally, instead of panting and strangling on her own fear, but relaxing danced her within arm’s reach of sleeping. To stay awake she paced, she talked, she beat her head against the padded walls of her cell, anything to remain in control.
She was waning now. Time no longer meant anything to her. The hours slid by unnoticed, until a doctor arrived for a chat, or an orderly came in with her pills or a meal. The strait jacket had been removed, making feeding herself a possibility, but with it gone the Other fought her constantly. Here, she had no way to fight back against the assaults, except with her teeth. With the Other controlling half her mouth, biting down hard enough to drive the Other into the recesses of her mind, proved nearly impossible. Instead, she used the fingers of her right hand to pinch and her nails to scratch, but the orderlies had trimmed her nails when she first arrived, so they did little damage.
A Doctor had seen to her wounds, killing the pain with a shot of liquid that made her feel numb and heavy. Each injury was cleaned, bandaged, and wrapped in yards of clean gauze. It made getting to the soft tissue incredibly difficult, but Augusta was confident she could do it if the Other came too close to the surface. In the meantime, she relished the dull ache throbbing beneath the pain killers, knowing it kept the Other in a weakened state.
The room was small, padded, with no bed or window and only one door that remained locked. The door, painted a dull white that blended perfectly with the white, padded walls, had no knob on her side. Even if she wanted to escape, there was no way out.
This could be her only hope to get rid of the Other. Could she convince anyone of the validity of her story? Could she convince the doctor to approve the operation to remove the intruder? If so, would it be in time?
Augusta paced the small space, her left leg trying to slow her down. Twice, she had to wrench her left fingers away from her throat. The Other was becoming more violent, more desperate, and less inhibited. If she couldn’t convince someone about what was happening, she’d be lost.
Behind her, the door lock clicked. A doctor and two orderlies stepped into the room. All three were male, dressed in white, and watched her warily. The man standing in the middle, however, held a clipboard in his hands.
“Good morning, Miss Lowe,” the doctor said. His auburn mustache bounced up and down as he spoke. “I’m Doctor Gregson. How are you feeling today?”
“Dr. Gregson,” Augusta said, desperation rising in her voice. “Please, there’s something in my brain. I need you to remove it. I need-”
The Other slapped the left hand over her mouth, clutching the lips tightly to prevent Augusta from saying any more. Augusta tore at the hand with her right, her eye rolling in the socket as she fought to speak.
Dr. Gregson looked on as she grappled with herself. Her breathing becoming harsh, the eye showing first fear then panic as the attack escalated. The Doctor looked at the clipboard again, made a quick notation, then spoke.
“Okay, Miss Lowe,” he said soothingly, “we’re here to help you. The orderly is going to give you a sedative. When you have calmed down, we’ll discuss the next step.” He motioned to the orderlies who stepped forward. The first, a large blond man with a stony expression, grabbed hold of her while the second, a black man with a sympathetic look on his face, found the vein pulsing in the crook of her elbow and jammed a needle into it, flooding her blood stream with a clear liquid.
“No. No,” Augusta protested, her body feeling heavy and disconnected from her. “She’s stronger when I sleep.”
The Orderlies held her between them, guiding her to the gurney. The one with the kind eyes helped her onto the table while the blond strapped her down.
“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “Doc Gregson is going to help you. Everything will be alright.”
Augusta fought against the medication. Already the Other was gaining ground, pulling her down into the dark recesses of her own mind. The light around her became tunneled, then began to fade as her eye drooped shut.
Don’t worry, the Other whispered, you won’t feel a thing.