Following is a short story I have written, titled "The patient of room 422".



I will break you.



The fury with which the words were spoken made them seem to be floating around the room. The voice bounced off each wall, making an imaginary crack in each of them. The source of the sound, a pair of lips trembled in rage as hot air was pushed in and out between them. Above the lips was the rest of the twisted face of the little boy.



I swear to God, I will.



The boy stood in the middle of the room his body rigid, eyes full of tears staring right into the womans eyes. The woman stood there in shock for a moment, a little scared. Then she tried taking a step forward.



STOP!!!



The boy was now shivering dangerously. The lady took a couple of steps backward and raised a hand. The boy looked on as the guard who had been standing behind her stopped from charging at him. The guard put his hands behind his back and stood as he had been standing before. The lady forced a smile onto her face.



Carl, lets go have some ice cream, at Cherry's. And you can have two serves of chocolate fudge. That's your favourite flavour, isn't it?



The boy kept shivering. The lady still smiling took a cautious step forward. This time the boy didnt react. He just kept shivering, breathing heavily and staring into her eyes. She took yet another step forward. All of a sudden, the boy broke into tears.



But but I am crazy , the boy started sobbing heavily. The lady now walked up to him and knelt down to be able to look into his face. She held his face gently in her hands and using her thumbs wiped his tears off. Oh, but Carl you are not. You just have a bad temper and nothing else.



But what about those times when I forget what I did over long periods of time. And I know I do horrid things, I just know. , the boy kept crying. The ladys eyes were now sparkling too. She kissed the boy on his forehead and hugged him. You will be fine, Carl. I promise to take care of you.



The boy soon stopped shivering and crying. His eyes now fell on the guard behind her. He saw the guards eyes focused on the womans lower back. Once he broke off from the hug, he brought his mouth closer to her ear and whispered. I dont like him one bit.



The lady looked around questioningly. The boy saw the guards eyes immediately shifting away. You dont like whom?, she asked the boy. The boy nodded his head in the direction of the guard, That guard you bring along every time you come here. The one standing by the door.



But Carl, I never bring a guard along with me., she got up and walked towards the door. And theres no one here., she said waving her hand in front of the guard.



The boy took a huge breath in, almost scared. So, you cant see the guard standing by the door. Nor the gun in his holster around his waist, nothing?



The lady looked at the boy surprised. There has to be one for me to be able to see one.



The boy walked up to where the lady and the guard were standing. He now looked up at the guard. The guard now looked down at the boy. What do you want kid? Got bored of talking to your imaginary friends?



The boys voice was now cracking. So, you dont see the lady there?



 Lady? Where?, asked the guard. Who are you talking to Carl?, asked the lady standing next to the guard.



The boy was now confused. He now remembered how the guard stopped when the lady raised her hand and how he had been looking at her from behind. Or maybe, if the guard wasnt able to see the lady, that was all a misconception. Who was real?



The boys eyes fell on the guards gun.



Theres only one way to find out.



The boy in one swift movement pulled the gun out of the guards holster and shot at the lady. The bullet went straight into her head. She fell down backwards.



The guard pinned the boy down and wrestled the gun out of his hand. All this time there was one thing going on in the boys mind. He had seen the guard using the gun before and he knew a guard in a place like a mental facility would always keep his guns safety on. And would use non-fatal bullets.



He had been framed.



He looked on as the smiling guard picked the gun up and aimed at his head.



BANG.



******



Theres a situation in room 422., said the guard sitting in front of the various screens which looked into the rooms of all level 4 patients. The guard sitting behind him looking at a totally different set of screens, turned around, chewing at a doughnut. He looked older than the other guard.



The mythical patient of room 422, dies again! ,said the older guard as he got up and stared into the screen at the body of a man in his forties. Poor lad was one of us before this happened.



What?, asked the young guard. The old man smiled. Yet another witnesses the death of the patient of room 422. Yet another listener to the tale. The old man brought his hands together and leaned onto the wall. Once comfortable he turned his attention to the young guard and began :



Yes, he was one of us. He had taken a liking to one of the female doctors here. But she did not feel the same. One day she was working on an experiment with a patient, an experiment with the objective of increasing the patients confidence in his ability to differentiate between real and fake people. The guard had this want to kill the doctor as he wasnt good at dealing with rejection. So he replaced his rubber bullet gun with a real one, and left the safety off. The patient lost control and killed the doctor. Then knowing he would be caught, the guard shot the patient and tried running away. In fact he got out of the facility safe, but was later caught drunk. During his trial at court, he started showing symptoms of schizophrenia. He was brought here for treatment. It was only fate that he landed in the same room that the incident occurred. Every three-four months he falls into a month long coma, like today.



The young guard was a bit scared. He turned his attention back to the screen where the body lay motionlessly. He turned towards the older guard again, who was smiling. The young guard obviously wanted to say something, but wasnt able to.



You might ask what makes him go into this coma like state so often? , the old man looked at the young guard as he nodded in agreement .The doctors say that the incident is stuck in his head, and keeps playing over and over again. And each time, he plays a different role in his mind. Which means every time he goes into a coma, he is either playing the role of the doctor or the patient. Judging from where his body is lying today , the old man looked at the screen closely,  he was the boy.



The young man was sweating. He dies the deaths of who he killed. Now that was creepy. He reached into his pocket and took out his handkerchief to wipe his sweat off. As he did so he imagined how the guard would have planned his escape from such a highly secured facility. Two guards were present in the control room at all times like now. Also there were patrol guards stationed all around the facility. The guards in the control room were the only ones who could have known of the incident, until a patrol guard came by. And they were practically the only ones who passed on any instructions to the other guards. So if he wanted to escape, all he needed was a friend in the control room who could have easily knocked the other one out. Or sent him away for a while. Or killed him.



A shiver ran down the guards spine. If anyone wanted the patient of room 422 taken out, today was the perfect opportunity. There were no doctors in the facility due to some medical conference. If at all someone were to pass on an instruction that the patient was dead and his body was to be sent out for post mortem, while a fake ambulance awaited outside, the patient would be a free man. He looked up at the old man who was still smiling. And then he felt the warm fluid flowing down his legs. Blood. He looked down at the blood and up at the smiling old man.



You might want to know whether he had a helper or not? Yes he had. And that person was nevercaught. ,said the old man his smile now disappearing. People say he was a ghost. Maybe he was. For all I know he was his brother. His elder brother. Walter., the young guards eyes fell on the name tag of the older guard as he stood there, his arms spread wide in some form of glory. It read Walter.



Looking at the young guards scared eyes, Walter started laughing. He had done this to so many before him. He always found it amusing how they couldnt tell the smell of ketchup when scared. These young kids forget there was a time when such technology did not exist. And we still thrived. Kid, calm down. Back then, the control room had not even been set up. The guard had shot down whoever came in his way. So he probably did not have any helper, nor a brother, if I am not wrong. I play this prank on every new kid on the block. Its funny how it always works. Im sorry if you shat your pants. Now get yourself together and back to work. , saying this the man turned around and sat down on his workbench.



The young guard got up from his chair, ketchup dripping as he did so. He opened a drawer and started looking for something. You know I have heard a variant of that story where the boy survived. The bullet only graced his flesh and he fell unconscious, but all the blood made the guard think the boy was dead. The old man smiled. Poor chap thinks he can scare me.



"And even today the boy searches for the right opportunity to kill the one who killed him. In a funny way, he almost sounds like a ghost, doesn't he? What was the boy's name again? Carl, right?", continued the young guard.



The old man's smile flipped over, clambered up to his forehead and became a frown. I never mentioned the boy's name.He slowly turned around to see a gun pointed at his head and a crazy smile on the boys face. His eyes fell onto the boys nametag. Carl.



I have this problem. I cant differentiate between real and fake. So I often end up killing people, thinking they arent real. For all I know you are Walter, the helper and elder brother of the person who killed me. And if I have done my research right, he had only one sister, who was run over by a train last week. Investigations are still going on as to whether it was a suicide, a murder or an accident. Although they strongly feel it was suicide. I mean, if you were to find your old father's pieces in your drawing room and be charged for having put them there, you would simply want to die, right?", Carl's eyes were sparkling madly, " And if you have taken a decision and hesitate later, there are always those external forces out to help you."



Carl started laughing now. Walter sat there, glued to his chair. He had to get out of here, somehow. His eyes fell onto his gun holster which was on the table behind him. Too far away. Before he could think of anything else, Carl started all over again, "Well the point is, you claim to be Walter, the elder brother of the man who killed me. But records show that you don't exist. So you must be fake. But then again you, a few moments ago said yourself that you had lied to me. That is odd because most of my imaginations do that. It is the most basic form of reverse psychology, isn't it?"



The old man got up slowly facing Carl, one of his wrinkled hands reaching for a switch under the table.



But that isnt true, is it? You know Im real. ,his hand almost reached the switch.



Well, theres only one way to find out.



Bang.



















