Flux

and to fend off any incoming blows. Before any punches could be thrown, two burley looking male nurses had Adrian restrained while a third injected him with sedative. Shaking, and with his appetite gone, Iain made his way back to his room.
    This is shit! I need to get out; these people are fucking lunatics. I shouldn’t be in here.
    Ten minutes later there came a knock at his door;
    “Who is it?”
    “Can I come in?” a voice said as the door started to open. A middle aged lady stood there in a standard issue hospital nightgown. She was barefoot and her short sleeves revealed long fresh scars on both her wrists. “Hi, I’m Anne. I was in the common room last night and the dining room this morning. I just wanted to let you know we’re not all that bad,” her voice soft.
    “Thank you. Come in.”
    She came and sat on the bed next to him; moving slowly, her eyes full of sadness. Iain thought better than to ask her story.
    “How long have you been here?” he asked instead, trying to work out how long he himself might have to remain resident.
    “Two months; I’m hoping to get out soon.”
    Two months! Oh man. “That’s a long time.”
    “It’s not so bad, once you get used to it. Some of the people aren’t that crazy either; just horribly depressed like me.”
    “Sounds like a barrel of laughs!” immediately cringing at the words which had spilled from his mouth.
    She just looked at him with wide eyes. They sat in awkward silence for a couple of minutes until she spoke again; “Well, if you need to talk then please let me know. Talking’s good you know.”
    “That’s what I heard. And thank you, I feel much better now.”
    She shuffled from the room, pulling the door closed behind her. Iain slumped onto the bed; tired again. He seemed to be constantly tired; his grasp of coherent thought, concentration and conversation reduced to practically nil.
    “How are you feeling today?” Doctor Jenkins was the next person to visit.
    “Crap.”
    “Is this because of what happened in the common room last night?”
    “She’s right you know; I think I am evil, and she could see it.”
    “What makes you think that?”
    “I’ve peered into the abyss; stood on the banks of the Styx and looked over the water into hell; seen the devil himself!”
    “What makes you think it was the devil?”
    “I can feel him.”
    “Daisy says that to everyone you know?”
    “Daisy?”
    “Yes, the young lady in the common room.”
    “She’s still right.”
    “No, she’s not; she’s very ill.”
    “What’s wrong with her?”
    “I can’t tell you that. Patient details are confidential. Just remember that she is very ill; as are you”
    “OK.”
    “When was the last time you had any visions?”
    Iain tried to remember and the realisation dawned on him that the ghosts had vanished, “Not for a while.”
    “Excellent, the medication we’ve got you on seems to be doing its job.”
    “Will I be on it forever?” The thought frightened him. With his reasoning dulled he knew he’d not manage to live a full life as he wanted.
    “That’s a possibility. Why, are you suffering any side effects?”
    “I can’t think. My head feels full of cotton wool all the time.”
    “Hopefully that will pass, it usually does. We’ll continue to monitor you just the same.”
    “Can I see Tim?”
    “Tim?”
    “Yes, the clergyman here at the hospital.”
    Doctor Jenkins looked at him quizzically, the furrows on his brow deepening. “Why do you want to see him?”
    “Because I’ve seen the devil!”
    “But that’s part of your illness.”
    Iain thought hard about how to respond, not wanting to give the doctor a reason to think he wasn’t improving. “I know; it’s made me think that’s all. Just trying to get things straight in my head.”
    “Do you think it’s a good idea?” raising an eyebrow.
    “Yes I do.”
    “OK, I’ll let him know.” He pushed his hands onto his knees and stood up with a grunt. “I’m not as young as I used to be you know.”
    Iain smiled and lay back down.

    The Doctor found Rebecca Goodman waiting in his office.
    “How’s Iain Andrews getting on?” she asked, her tone blunt.
    “Responding well. Just as I thought, a classic case of psychosis bought about by deep psychological trauma.”
    “People get run over everyday but they don’t develop psychosis.”
    “But he almost died. And everyone’s different.” He kept his tone calm and soft, just like he was talking to one of his