The Demon Boy: Jigsaw of Souls Series Book 5

181 pages

Chapter 3

The light that came in through the little caged window was gray and dim. It seemed like there was always a cloud cover in the yard outside. Vincent blinked his eyes in the dreary room and sat up.

The mattress on his small cot was limp and lumpy. There were no springs inside it, a precautionary measure so that patients could not pull them out and use them as weapons. Likewise, the edges of the bed frame were rounded. There were no corners anywhere and no loops or gaps big enough for anything to be tied around. The room had been accident and injury proofed. It was also dismal and lonely.

Vincent had spent a day in bed, or at least he thought a day had passed. He stood on shaky feet and headed to the small washroom attached to his room. ‘Washroom’ meant a plastic washbasin and a toilet built into the wall like in prison. No sharp edges.

He went to the door of his room and tried the knob. It turned in his hand, and he pushed it open. The hallway outside was lined with doors that appeared identical to his own. Some were open, some were closed. To his right, he could see a set of double doors and people in a room beyond. He headed towards it, shuffling slowly in a pair of soft slippers. His head still felt cloudy, and his muscles felt like he had not used them in far too long.

The double doors pushed open easily. The room on the other side was large and lined with windows. He had passed through this room on his way in, he remembered. Patients in robes and pajamas sat at tables and talked or played games. Some sat alone, staring out the windows at the fields and woods outside. Others watched on a TV that was mounted high out of reach near the ceiling. An episode of some old, black and white show was playing. A handful of patients watched and laughed.

There were orderlies in the room. One stood at the far side, in front of another set of double doors. The other one, Vincent recognized as Lonny. He was in the middle of the room talking to a patient.

A man with long red hair waved at Vincent from a table by a window. He was sitting with two other people, and Vincent waved back, more out of instinct than for any other reason. He didn’t recognize him at all.

The man approached Vincent quickly, stepping lightly on his tiptoes as he made his way across the room.

“Hey, you’re awake. Good to see you again, man.”

“Hey,” Vincent said. He looked to have a tattoo creeping out under the sleeve of his robe, and his face was a little red. He put his arm around Vincent and started leading him towards the table he’d just left.

“I saved you a seat. Saul thought you’d be out all night, but not me, man. I know Vincent Donnelly.”

“You do?” Vincent asked, joining him at the table.

“Obviously, man. I got your back, you know that. Not when you run the hell out into the woods in the middle of the day, but in here, I got your back.”

Vincent stared at the man. His face was puffy, and he spoke very loudly. There was no memory at all that Vincent knew him. He couldn’t recall a thing about him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“Recognize me? Man, I knew it. It’s cool, though. It pisses Saul off, but I get it. They done some stuff up in your brains with those shocks. I’m surprised you can still walk, if I’m being honest.”

“Shocks?” Vincent asked. The man looked around in a conspiratorial manner.

“I heard that a patient died a few years back from it and that Dr. Mason isn’t even supposed to be doing it anymore. So, every time we go for therapy, it’s against the rules.” The man made air quotes when he said the word ‘therapy’.

“I’ve been getting shock treatment?” Vincent asked. He raised a hand to his head. The skin around his temples felt sensitive.

“They’re trying to burn the you out of your head, man.

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