Chained Soul – Part Twenty-Five

Welcome back to Chained Soul, my new serialised novel that I’m releasing right here on my blog, as well as on Tapas and Wattpad. Quick warning: this series does contain strong language, so if that’s not your thing, you’re free to skip this one!

Check out Part One, including a synopsis for the whole series, here!

If you missed Part Twenty-Four, you can read that here!

Day Twenty-Five

Something is very, unbelievably wrong today. I truly believe that I woke up and the entire fucking world decided to turn on its head for some reason.

Not in a way that would mean that I don’t have to be in this facility anymore, of course, because the universe still hates me every when everything is being weird.

No, it’s different to that. I’m still here, in my room that might as well be a fucking cell. The computer is still pinging and I’m getting up to check it like a zombie who’s had enough of the undead life going after brains – I know I have to, but I don’t want to and I couldn’t care less about what’s waiting for me every time I do. The food came through normal, without salt. I took the three-a-days. The psychologist lady didn’t come in.

But it was when I was in the middle of eating my lovely slop that I heard knocking on the wall. It was weird, like some sort of morse code, but then I realised that I don’t know morse code and maybe it wasn’t morse code to begin with. Anyway, you get what I mean. It was frantic and random and weird.

Now, Helen does not normally knock like that. My first thought was that she’d been moved out of the room and some other poor sod had been thrown in, and now I was going to have to be the mentor figure. Main big issue there: I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on in here still. I can tell them to eat the slop and take the pills, but that’s about it. As soon as they ask ‘why?’ all I’ll be able to say is ‘fuck if I know’.

My second thought was obviously that I’d miss having my next door neighbour to talk to, even if she never really told me anything useful about this place and what’s going on and why I’m here – y’know, the important questions. Thinking about Helen being gone made me sad enough to ignore the knocks for a few minutes – the newcomer could wait for me to pay my respects for a lost friend – but then I heard her voice through the wall and I knew something was up, because she was always the one demanding secrecy and all that.

Conversation With Helen

-I can’t hear her voice properly at first because she’s whispering and I’m sat on my bed, so I go over to the wall-

Her: Robbie? Robbie, please answer me. Please say you’re there.

Me: Hey, I’m right here. You okay? You sound like… I don’t even know what.

Her: I’m scared.

Me: I kinda got that. For a second I thought it was someone else behind there, being all crazy.

Her: Well it’s not, okay? It’s me, and I’m freaking out. I’m losing it. I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of emotional outbursts, so now I’m having mine.

Me: I mean, I’ve never been one to stop an ‘emotional outburst’ – or I don’t think I have, anyway – so go right ahead.

Her: They’re going to take me away soon. I know they are.

Me: Oh – yeah, my psychologist lady was talking about some changes happening. Not taking people away or anything, but she’s trying to get me in the assessment thing to get me out before they happen.

Her: They’ve given up on me. They’re never going to let me out. I’m going to die in here, Robbie. My family will never know what happened to me.

Me: I thought our families knew? I got a letter from my mum.

Her: They know you’re here. They don’t know what’s happening to you. I bet they’re feeding them bullshit about sunshine and rainbows and therapy sessions and therapy dogs and all that fucking nice happy shit that they put on TV.

Me: We’re on TV?

Her: The news, I meant the news. They reported on this a lot when it was a new thing, and with every trial. We’re in the second wave of people who caught up in this fucking mess, so there wasn’t as much fanfare. You probably weren’t on the news.

Me: But I could’ve been? (not sure how I feel about that)

Her: Sure, whatever. You could be a home town fucking super villain.

Me: Damn, you’re really worked up.

Her: At least you’ve got a way out of here! I haven’t had a meeting with anyone for weeks. I did everything they wanted and it wasn’t enough. What makes you any more worthy of the assessment than me?

Me: I have no idea. I don’t even know why I’m here, remember?

Her: I can’t believe it. You’re going to get out still not knowing. How the fuck is that fair? I know! I know what’s going on and I can’t get out!

Me: I’m sorry, Helen, like I really am, but I don’t really know what I can do. Or what you can do. We’re just kinda stuck here and they just do whatever they want to us.

Her: Well, consider yourself lucky. And give that fucking assessment the best shot you can, because they’ll get rid of you if you stay here.

Me: … like murder get rid?

Her: They don’t want us. We’re wasting money every second we keep breathing. If we don’t pass the assessment then they can’t get new bodies into the cells. More press, more notice, more money. It’s all money, Robbie, all of it.

Me: Money for fucking what though? Locking random people up?

Her: I wish- fuck, I wish I could tell you, and I don’t think I’ve ever been closer to telling you, but it’s just… It wouldn’t be right. I can’t do it. I hate that they chose you, but I’m not evil. I can’t tell you before you find out on your own. It’d break you. You’d probably flunk whatever that assessment is if I told you, and then we’d both be stuck to rot in here until they decide they’ve had enough of us. And that’ll be soon – I know it will be.

Me: Look, the psychologist was kinda stressed out about the changes and stuff, but I don’t think they’re gonna resort to murder. It just sounded like it was gonna get a lot less fun around here, and I mean, it’s not exactly a picnic right now anyway. They’re probably gonna add in mandatory jobs or something, or like harsher punishments for stuff. Solitary confinement and all that.

Her: You think?

Me: Yeah, probably just gonna go the other way from the privileges. Maybe they reckon negative reinforcement is better. It won’t be nice or anything, but I don’t think it’ll be a death sentence.

Her: You truly believe that?

Me: There are still laws out there. We’ve got ID and family and jobs and all that shit. Criminal records, maybe. We can’t just disappear. Especially not if you’re as popular as I seem to be with the emails. People know we’re here – they’d notice if this place suddenly started offing us all.

Her: I guess, yeah. Maybe you’re right. I don’t know. I’m so in my head right now.

Me: Hey, that’s okay. Makes a change from you reassuring me all the time, huh?

Her: Ha, it certainly does. Thank you, Robbie. Seriously.

Me: Don’t mention it. We’re in the same boat and all that shit, right?

Or at least, I hope we are.

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