Sanitarium’s Story
Andraia and I

My room didn’t exist. It wasn’t on any of the expansive directories that were located at the end of each hall; it wasn’t included in any of the blueprints. In fact the entire building my room was in didn’t officially exist. Well, as far as the government was concerned. Anyone with a pair of working eyes could just look out and see that it stood braced against weather.  But my building was taboo, it wasn’t real, didn’t exist and for that matter, neither did I.
              When I was thirteen my parents couldn’t put up with me anymore so they sent me here, to Oteen Sanitarium. Originally, this hospital was reserved for damaged soldiers of World War II. Those gassed, maimed and broken beyond society’s desire to accept back into its fold. Not that those brave soldiers wanted back in, society to them was too shallow and childish compared to the horrors that still haunted their dreams, during the day and the night.  Eventually they all died, reunited with all their comrades once again, so TB patients were taken in and the hospital’s mission statement changed. But not all the patents were infected with Tuberculosis. There were a few of us who were placed there for the same reason the long deceased soldiers were, society didn’t know what to do with us. My life changed at thirteen.
               I’ve always been fascinated with vampires. When I was seven I told my mother that I was going to be a vampire when I grew up. She merely looked at me strangely and shook her head. I think she figured it was a stage I’d grow out of. She was wrong. By the time I was in fifth grade all I wore was black. I wore my soft, corn-straw hair down to my elbows as was the growing fashion for my gender and my bright blue eyes reflected the sky on a crisp autumn’s day. My eyes were slanted just enough to make me look like a blonde Asian, and my pale skin shone blue in the moonlight. I was normal enough or so I thought.
         You must understand, I love my family. I do. But for some reason I’ve always had this intense fear of my great uncle. I didn’t know why for the longest time. Things started going awry on my twelfth birthday. My great uncle and I share the same birthday. He’s a few years older then I. Don’t ask me how that worked out, the dealings of families has always confused me. So on my twelfth birthday, as was the tradition of our families, my great uncle and I hung out while our families prepare the festivities. That year the two of us were sitting in his house watching TV waiting for his mother to call us for cake….that’s all I remember. I totally forgot that day. There’s a blank place in my memory that no one can fill. The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital, the normal hospital, with bruises all over my body. All over. Hopefully I need not go into details for you to understand. I didn’t understand what had happened, and my parents weren’t going to provide me with an explanation either. My great uncle acted as if nothing unusual had taken place, but most of my twelfth year was riddled with hospital visits and missing memories.
              Vampires are strong. No one would dare tangle with one of the undead. Vampires suck the blood of humans to survive. I needed to see my own blood to know I still lived. Have you ever watched blood well up from a wound? It’s quite beautiful. So rich and red as it beads and flows. It glitters in the sunlight and the moon’s glow causes it to darken to an even more romantic color. I may not have been able to remember what happened those times that my mind blanked out but I could control my pain and the flow of my crimson life.
I began to cut. At first I cut in places that were unseen. My upper arms, my thighs, my upper chest…and for some reason the doctors never questioned why all of a sudden there were slashes in addition to bruising. At first. But as the year progressed I grew careless. I misjudged and cut too deeply. This was in the bathroom at school. My friend found me even paler then normal collapsed in a pool of my own blood. I was given stitches and the child authorities were called. I was now under supervision.
The year passed. June 15th rolled around. It was once again my birthday. Our birthday. Again I was alone in the presence of my great uncle. This time we were in my room waiting for the cake call to come. As I lay supine on my bed with my eyes closed I felt his shadow loom over me. I felt his hand take mine with his breath inches from my lips. Again, my memory is blank, but dimly, as if in a dream I remember someone shrieking in pain, something warm soaking me and me licking my lips and tasting iron. I was told that they had to pry the knife from my hand. And so, unable to take my antics any longer, as if it were all my doing, I was sent to Oteen Sanitarium. One of our distant relatives worked there and I was given a spot immediately.
I suppose I fit in after a fashion. Both I and the other patients had blood problems, only they wanted desperately to keep theirs in and get better and live. I on the other hand had put two and two together and was disgusted and ashamed beyond belief at what my great uncle had done to me. For me, cutting was merely done to kill the numbness and apathy that accumulated, and if I happened to cut a little too far, well, what of it? Life held no interest for me.
            At first, the sanitarium didn’t seem so bad, my curiosity was heightened. The nurses and doctors were pretty decent I didn’t bother them and they, for the most part did the same. I was given privileges for not cutting and good-behavior and pretty much had the run of the buildings. All except the Out Building, which stood aloft from the other, but I didn’t really mind that because there was something sinister about that place. There was a porch but never anyone sitting on it, a bench swing that seated only leaves and the wind. Sometimes on the wind I could hear voices and strains of piano music coming from the building…or so I thought. As soon as I started concentrating on the sounds they faded into just the wind whistling. But beyond that, Oteen was my backyard.
       However, though I was allowed pretty much anywhere there was one truth that held me from accepting this as my new home. Oteen was for TB patients not for thirteen year olds who were accosted by dirty great uncles. I was apathetic. I made acquaintances with the patients and took delight in causing them to smile but as they were all going to die or leave, I saw no point in getting too close. I was merely alive, not living. All that changed when a new patient arrived. Her name was Andraia and she took my breath away.
She was a few years older then me, but you couldn’t tell from looking at her. She was a pale thing, more pale then I, and her eyes were the color of the ocean. If you looked too deep you would drown in the liquid sadness that was seeped into those orbs. Though what would cause such pain to one so cheerful, I know not. Her hair was deep brown red, like the dark haired Irish, and if fairies existed she would have been welcome among their ranks. She intrigued me. She always seemed to be laughing. A joy radiated out from her and all who were in her presence seemed to forget that they were about to keel over and die. But I was unsure of how to approach her, so I stayed away, at least publicly.
As I said before, the Sanitarium was my backyard, my playground. I knew it better then the back of my hand, cause really, how many people do you know study their hands? (I know of only one, but he was a special case.)So, though I stayed out of her presence I still watched her. From the catty corners, the servant’s halls, the windows; the only time she was ever out of my watchful gaze was when she went for treatments and baths and when I had my treatments, baths and was asleep. I was, for all purposes, a stalker. I thought I was being pretty discreet but the doctors and nurses soon caught wind of my infatuation and there were mixed opinions regarding the propriety of the situation. Some felt that my feelings were untoward, while others were just happy that I was finally climbing out of my slump. Still others didn’t give a damn, pardon my French, and would just as soon turn a blind eye so as to get their work completed. What patients did in their free time was none of their business so long as their work load wasn’t intensified. “Don’t ask, don’t tell” was the unspoken motto at Oteen and not just a few doctors and nurses braved contracting TB with consenting patients.
         But the concern of the doctors and nurses didn’t really faze me in the least. I was solely preoccupied with just working up the nerve to talk to her. Now if you are getting a little annoyed with this, my tale thus, then I urge you to read to my story’s completion. I promise you, mine is not a story wrought with love and a happy ending, and if you hear the bitterness in my voice then I apologize merely for politeness’ sake.
              My golden opportunity arrived on a not so golden afternoon. The rain had come and with it the gloom of being trapped indoors with nothing to do. I was wandering through the subterranean tunnels that connected several of the buildings when, as I neared one of the exit doors, I heard a voice coming from behind. The door, that is. My ears perked up for this was a voice I recognized. It was the voice of my infatuation and the voice of my favorite doctor, Doctor Calstine. She was like an over-indulgent parent towards me and I followed her to the letter. Her word was law in the Oteen sanitarium and I respected her beyond measure. She was my role model, my idol.
But the voices of my two favorite people didn’t seem to be getting along as harmoniously as I would have expected. In fact it almost seemed as if they were arguing. I hurried to the end of the tunnel till I reached the door that led to the insides of the buildings. But though I normally would have burst through without a second thought, this time, something held me back. I waited until I head the footsteps of Andraia then Dr. Calstine walk away above me. Then, waiting a bit longer, I counted backwards, slowly, from one hundred. Soon all was quiet. I crept up and was confronted by two doors. One would lead to the Main building and the other to the Out Building; the one place I wasn’t allowed to explore. I didn’t even give it a second thought but turned my feet towards the main building, bypassing everything till I reached the rooms, till I was standing before the door of my nervousness. From somewhere I gathered the courage to knock and, when her voice invited me in, I had to regather my  courage just to turn the door knob and venture in without falling on my face. She was huddled on her bed, swathed in her blankets, sobs quieted by the pillows.
         “Are you alright Andraia?” I asked, crossing the room. I edged onto her bed. I wanted to throw my arms around her and comfort her for she looked like she was going through something extremely painful, but I held back. I’ve never really learned how to comfort though I knew some people want to be hugged while others would rather be left alone in their grief. So awkwardly I placed an arm around her and said,
“Don’t worry, Anjie, I’m a vampire, I won’t let anything hurt you!” As soon as the words were out of my mouth I wanted to snatch them back. My face flamed up and I looked down at my hands. Never, never had I felt so foolish, I wanted to curl up and die. I hadn’t spoken of vampires to anyone at Oteen. There’s just something about blood being coughed up that seemed to make it a cruel subject of conversation. Besides, speaking of my vampire-fetish, out-loud, to the one person I wanted to impress the most, seemed incredibly childish. She paused a moment in her crying and I could feel my breath catch in my throat. What was she going to say? I was going to be made fun of, I just knew it. Then I heard what seemed to be a laugh coughed out, and relief flooded me as a rain does a desert. The bundle moved and then a hand shot out. I heard her muffled voice say something.
            “Huh? I couldn’t hear what you said.” I placed my ear closer and heard a quiet voice gulping for air.
             “Read to me?” I was taken aback and noticed for the first time the book held in the outstretched hand, it was about vampires. I felt a smile creep across my face. I shrugged, trying to act all nonchalant.
              “Ok” with a sort of tossed my head. She scooted over till there was a spot next to her on the bed then sat up and looked at me. Looking into her eyes, which were all I could see peeking out of her self-make burka, I understood what she was saying. With a hop I was across the bed and, after quickly adjusting the pre-offered pillow behind my back, I opened the book. As she snuggled up against me, my arm, of its own accord, went around her shoulders. So there we sat reading, my arm around the one person in the whole entire earth that I could see myself spending the rest of my life with…and I was at peace. For the first time in my memory, with my arm cradling the soft body of my love, I was at peace. (Though half way through the story my arm went numb, but I left it there anyways.)
                She never did tell me what made her cry that day, but after that we were inseparable. I even went so far as to sneak through her bedroom window once or twice and lying all curled up with her was pure, unsaturated bliss. Just her smile made my heart race. But I never thought to tell Dr. Calstine about my developing friendship, though in the  past she was my confidant in everything. For some reason, every time I opened my mouth, the words got stuck in my throat and I thought better of it and talked about something else. Not that she didn’t know what was going on...she knew everyone’s business in the hospital. But, so long as it didn’t involve someone getting hurt she didn’t butt in. That was my understanding of it, anyways.
             Nothing in my life has ever been a bed of roses, I always seem to get the stems. So with life going along swimmingly you’d thing I’d have been on the look out for my rose steam coming to rake me over with its thorns. But I didn’t and alas, once again, my life was turned upside down.
              One day as I was waiting for Andraia to get out of treatment, Dr. Calstine came up behind me and blindfolded me. Just out of the blue. Nothing was said. The grip on my arm made me abandon any thoughts I had of complaining. As we walked I tried to figure out where we were going, and if I had done anything wrong lately. Nothing came to mind. I heard a screen door open then close behind us. We stopped outside the main entrance of the Out Building, the smell tipped me off. The odor spoke of unpleasantness and the air quivered with pain. Why had she brought me here, to the one place I was forbidden to go? A group of voices and piano music floated towards me and the hairs on my arms stood up. I turned my head till I was facing her.
          “Why’d you bring me here?”
          “Someone special to you wishes to see you.”
          “Who?”
         “You will see soon enough. But before you go in, I have something to say.” There was a pregnant pause, which I felt inclined to interrupt. No offence and disrespect but I had Andraia waiting for me, she was getting out of a four day treatment and I had greatly missed her. I’m sure all the staff was relieved that she was getting out as well, as I had been driving them crazy with my restlessness. I loathed squandering time that could be best spent in Andraia’s presence. If she were a drug, then I was her junkie.
          “What is it, Dr. Calstine?” I sensed the sound of her name jarred her back to the present, and my ears caught the sound of lips being licked. Dr. Calstine nervous? Never!
         “What you are going to see may be a bit distressing. Just keep in mind that what you see is what can happen to some diseased people whose correct treatment has yet to be found.” Diseased people? Since when had Dr. Calstine started calling the patients diseased? “It’s an unfortunate situation,” her voice continued, “but sometimes unexpected factors show up. Remember, we at Oteen only strive for the betterment and comfort of mankind as a whole.” I tried to grasp the full meaning of her statement, for it sounded quite noble, but after a few moments of furious thinking I still drew a blank.
         “What’d you mean?”
         “You shall see,” came her voice, now hardened and cold as ice. If I compared her to North Carolina weather then you may have the slightest understanding of her fluctuating temperament. Sometimes I wondered if she might not be happier taking a few of the drugs she prescribed to some of the patients. I felt her reach out and knock on the outer door. Before it opened all the way I was pulled inside, I could hear it being bolted behind us. Bolted? What for? We hurried down the hallway that seemed to go one for miles but I think we just went underground to the basement for the floor seemed to slant slightly. I heard the radio that was in each building chime the hour, a chime far too cheerful for the foreboding feeling that was building within me. My stomach fluttered in quite a different manner then it did under Andraia’s butterfly touch.
         “You may take off the blindfold once you are inside the room. When you are finished, knock on the door and someone will escort you back to your room.” Escort me back to my room? Since when had I ever been escorted beyond my admittance into the hospital? I felt the door swing open and even before it had a change to finish its path I was thrust forward. The door clicked shut behind me.
          The room smelled of death, as if the dark angel himself was lurking about. I could practically taste the salty scent of blood that hung on the air. Hesitantly, I pulled the blindfold from my eyes and waited for them to grow accustom to the dimly lit chamber. In the center of the room I made out a heap of blankets. My nose told me that the decaying smell was coming from there. The rest of the room was unoccupied. Then, from the pile of death I heard a groan.
That anything was still alive took me by surprise and a small peal of laughter escaped my lips before I knew what was happening. The joyous noise hit the walls and fell to the ground, flat. What I found waiting for me as I crossed the length of the room to the center was horror beyond even my most grotesque nightmares. There, lying on the mass of blood soaked, encrusted bedding was a broken looking body. I stopped a few feet from it and looked down at it in horror. Then the body’s eyes opened and stormy ocean eyes glared at me, shaking me with their intensity. I felt my head reel and tried to call out but my voice had disserted me in my time of need. My legs collapsed and I crawled over as if in a trance and sat as close to the body as I dared. There was my love, lying on a bed of blankets on a platform slightly raised from the floor. She was death-like, as if she had no blood left in her. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, my voice returned to me.
         “Andraia? Are you alive, Anjie? What have they done to you?” I saw her stir, watched as she opened her eyes all the while pain flirting across her face.
         “My eyes see with joy,” Her voice wavered like a leaf during a storm. She sluggishly reached her hand up to gently brush my face.
          “My hand touches with joy.”
          “My ears hear with joy.” I could say no more, as I caught up her hand and pressed it to my cheek. I looked at her as I put a hand to her forehead. She was so changed from the way she looked four days ago. Shivering, with beads of perspiration clinging to her body and face, she felt so cold, her skin so ashen, a far cry from her usual pale luminescent coloring. But what had changed the most about her were her eyes. No longer did they smile out at me with a balance of mischief and intelligence. Nor did they sparkle with her usual self-assurance. They were darkened, dulled. The only evidence of the old Andraia was in her whispering voice, and the quiet pain still imbedded in her oceanic eyes, only the pain mirrored in those eyes was intensified ten-fold.
           “My love?” she whispered
           “I am here, Anjie, I am here.” I said as I stroked her pain stricken face trying to smooth out the lines of her discomfort.
            “I will not live much longer. The drugs the doctors have been using to…,” she had to pause as a coughing fit racked her body. Her breath came stilted, labored. “…..the drugs for my TB aren’t working. The sores in my lungs have gotten bigger and the concoction of drugs is causing my blood to evaporate.”
             “What?” I’d never heard of blood evaporating. She continued as if she hadn’t heard me…and perhaps she hadn’t.
            “Faster then my bones can reproduce it and what is left is rushing out of me. My heart will not have anything to pump in a short while.” She stopped to catch her breath. Her chest was heaving as if she had just finished running a marathon.
           “Anjie, you mustn’t say things like that. I…” I was in shock, what was she saying…she couldn’t die…not my Andraia.
           “You must hear me out, this place is a death trap. This building, the Out Building? We are all being experimented on. We are their guinea pigs. They are looking for new ways to treat diseases.” She paused to cough again.
           “What? That’s crazy! They’re just here to help people with TB.” She looked at me and the sight of her mournful eyes caused my heart leapt in my throat.
          “Why do you think they allowed you to come here? You would have torn the build apart board by board trying to find me if I went missing. So they brought you here. I doubt they will allow you to leave unharmed.” It was my turn to stare, but she continued. “What they fear most is that this will leak out to the public and in doing so jeopardize their funding. Don’t worry,” she rasped in a voice that sounded almost wry as I glanced around the room. “They don’t consider me among the living anymore. They must have some ulterior motive for allowing you to see me this way. Perhaps you will escape unharmed after all. Or maybe they have a streak of humanity perhaps? This room doesn’t exist anyway, so the room cameras will just have picture, no sound. Listen to me! I don’t have time to explain everything. Even if I could it would be too dangerous to do it here.” She gestured for me to come closer. “Cover me, get between the camera and me.” When I had done so, she reached beneath her hospital gown and pulled off her identity chain. There, dangling from the end of it was the little silver key.
         “Bend your head toward me.” She demanded, and, surprised at her unusual commanding tone I did as she complied. She thrust the chain over my head. “Keep it hidden,” I didn’t need any more prompting to know what she meant. “Whatever happens, try to get leak what is happening here out to the public. The government won’t help us, for they’re our enemy now more then ever. Destroy it if you must.” With that said, Andraia’s face lightened, almost as if a great burden had been lifted from her. And as I look back at this memory I suppose one had. Her eyes brightened as she coughed.
         “You know, I thought death would be frightening, but it’s not.”
         “No?” I asked curiously.
         “Nope, it’s like the Bible said, “I was overcome by trouble and sorrow. Then I called on the name of the Lord: ‘Oh Lord, save me!’ Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the Lord has been good to you. For you, O Lord, have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling, that I may walk before the Lord in the land of the living.” Ah love, these words are like a soothing balm to my broken body, they act as a glue to my brittle spirit.”
         “You believe all the Bible says?”
         “Yes, don’t you?” I could sense her surprise that the idea was even questioned.
          “I’m not quite sure.” I said cautiously. “I use to believe, but circumstances and time got a hold of me.”
          “Ah, well, perhaps one day your journey will bring you back to your faith of old.” She was looking at me with such a soft expression that I wanted to cry.
         “What part did you recite to me?”
          “I recited part of the 116 chapter, in Psalm.” Silence.
          “Are you really going to die?” I asked all of a sudden, looking straight into her hurting eyes and placed a finger over her lips as she was about to respond. “I don’t want you to, and yet,” I said, trailing my fingers down to cup her face that still enchanted me. The blood smears only enhanced her frail beauty. “In some ways I feel happy for you. Soon your suffering will be over and you’ll be free…forever. I almost envy you. But still, without you here, the Hope that flickers within me will extinguish. My reasons for living are so few as it is, most of my motivation will die along with you.” My eyes dropped as I spoke the last sentence. Andraia struggled to a sitting position.
           “Help me” She whimpered out. She was finally able pull herself up with a little help from me, but was too weak to sit up without support so she leaned on me, my arm encircling her. “My love,” She whispered, her face turned toward me, her eyes holding mine. “Do not worry for me. I would stay with you if I could, but it seems my time is numbered.” She took my hand in hers and gave me a look filled with hope and fear, contentment and longing, but most of all anguish. Suffering I could do nothing for, and that troubled me more then anything else in my gathered years. I lay her back down to rest on her throne of sweat-soaked, life-sopped blankets and curled up beside her. Her eyes closed as her body touched the bedding. I draped my arm across her stomach and I heard her sigh.     
We lay there, for how long I don’t know for it seemed like an eternity and mere seconds all at once. I listened awhile to her jagged breathing, listened as it began to slow, watching to see if she would grace me with her presence in this realm one last time. I was just about to doze off when my ear caught a slight change in her breathing. My eyes flew open and were struck with Andraia’s returning gaze. Her probing look was so much like hers of old. Our eyes spoke what our hearts were afraid to voice and as I watched I saw a tear trickle down her cheek.
          “What’s this?” I ask, reaching toward her face, hesitantly, touching the wetness. I could feel tears of my own start to well up behind my eyes, but blinked them back.
            “My final gift to you.” She replied, closing her eyes then, slowly opening them again to look straight through me to my very soul. And then she began to cry, as if the floodgates had been opened. To this day I don’t know where the liquid came from but they were tears of healing as much as they were of bitterness and pain. She clung to me with all the strength left in her wasted body and as I cradled her I felt tears of my own welling and one or two slid down my stricken cheek. Then the tears ended she pulled away somewhat to look up at me.
            “I thank you, my beloved. I thank you.” She pulled herself up onto one of her elbows and traced the outline of my face. By now she was looking paler then ever. She shakily took my left hand in hers and brought it to her lips. “Farewell.” I heard her voice caressing me as she slowly lowered my hand from her lips. I leaned forward and press my lips gently against hers and I could feel her mouth curve into a smile. She took one more breath, but as she let it out, instead of looking fearful at the unknown, a smile lightened up her ashen face. Her last exhale caressed me as did her voice all those long seconds ago, like a wispy, morning zephyr kissing new leaves. Life faded from her, never to return.
Andraia, my beloved, my reason for living, though I did not know it till that very moment, had left me forever. All that remained was the shell her being had called home. My tears that had been gathering burst through their own floodgate as I flung myself down upon Andraia’s still warm body to weep, the only other sound was the air-conditioning blowing in a sweet fragrance.
          I don’t know how long I lay crying, for time passed me by and soon sleep stole upon me. When I awoke, groggy, the dim lights were brightened and the body was cold and stiff. As I moved to gather blankets to wrap her in I gasped. The body lay on a mound of drying bloody sheets, this I knew, but the entire pile was saturated. I forced myself to touch the soiled rags for there was nothing else to cover her with. I gagged as the fumes rose to meet me, my beloved’s blood flaking off onto my hands. With my task completed, I tried to stand. The entire room reeled and I had to concentrate on placing one foot in front of the other as I walked to the door. Before knocking to be let out I touched two fingers to my forehead, to my lips and to my heart.
         “Andraia, you are ever in my thoughts, ever in my speech and ever in my heart.” I read that in one of the books we read together, that farewell. It seemed appropriate. I waited for what seemed like an eternity but no one ever came. I tried the knob and it turned easily in my hand, surprisingly. I stuck my head out and looked around. The halls were deserted. Cautiously I ventured out. The hallway seemed to sway. All the doors were flung open so that I could see into them as I walked past. This time I didn’t have my blindfold on. I wish to God that I had.
Never had the sight of humans filled me with such disgust and pity. They were chained in various positions with skin that seemed melted away. Poked with metal contraptions and belted down to beds and tables. There were gaping wounds that oozed, and eyes that didn’t see. Fingers that twitched and lumps that seemed to writhe under the remaining skin. People I thought had been released I barely recognized. Their voices though, it was their voices that got to me more. The pleading. The begging. The smells were beginning to get to me. The noises were making my head hurt. The walls began to cave in and the patients began to leak out of their restraints. They were melting out towards me, running like hot wax towards me. They weaved in and out, fading into each other yet remaining their own entity, much like oil does in water. Their individual colors were like the rainbow, only they were not all different colors singularly, no, they all faded and pulsed as different shades of single color then after a few breathes they would bleed into another color.
I was fascinated, and their strange beauty drew me in, so much so that I stood there gazing in dumb awe, even as they all came to a stop, like streaks of molasses running till they are tilted no longer and I realized in the back of my mind that I was surrounded. But that they would be hostile didn’t even occur to me. These were my old friends, they knew me. I held a hand above my dazed eyes and was about to greet them when I was assaulted by their voices. Eerily , their voices softly bonged off my ear-drums, voices that were high and voices that were pitched on the lowest rung of Hell’s ladder. But though the voices had range as numerous as the stars, all of them were children’s voices.
             “Help us die.” They pleaded in their pitiful voices. “Please”, they cried. “Pleeeeeeeease, Kill us now. End our pain. Please. Let us die.” I couldn’t take it. I crotched down, my head to my knees my eyes squeezed shut and my hands pressing against my ears. “Let us go. Release us, set us free.” Their voices rolled over me, over and over; I was a grain of sand being tossed over and over again by the ocean; spiraling into oblivion.
          “No, no” I mumbled to myself. “No, no no, go away. Leave me alone.” I was rocking back and forth now, ball of my foot to the other. “You’re not here, go away!” But the voices didn’t relent. They kept washing over me, a cooling salve, but their voices left a burning on me in their wake. I was breaking. I could feel myself going their voices getting under my skin, but I didn’t care. “Nono nonoNONONONONONONOO!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. I suddenly stood up and ran to the door. I started banging on it, scratching and throwing myself up against the wooden door coverings. I was like one suddenly released from every restrain in the world. I was like a madman, a banshee. My fists and forearms began leaving dark stains in their wake as I continued to assault the door. The voices and their pulsing, melted wax bodies swirled about me, pressing in tighter and tighter. My lungs began to gasp for breath. My chest was hot and burning, like there was a heavy hand pressing down on me. And as I tried to suck in air, my breath was cut short by smoke that tasted as burnt plastic does, and I fell to my knees clutching at my throat and chest, attempting to cough, but failing even at that automatic reflex. The melted wax began lapping at my kneeling legs and my head brushing the floor. I gagged at the pain that tore through my body. For every brush against my skin was so sharp, so sensitive, all my senses were on fire. I tore my head back and screamed in agony but my breath still hadn’t returned and as I slipped into blissful unconsciousness, I heard, above the pleading voices and above the pounding of my heart as my lungs desperately tried to draw in air, I heard the strains of piano music floating along as a cooling swallow of water trickles down a dusty, parched throat. And my eyes closed in peaceful satisfaction as the wax bodies of the melted patients consumed me.
             When I awoke, it was to the sterile brightness of a white room. My head buzzed as I tried to lift it. I shook it to try to remove some of the cob webs. I moved to rub my eyes only to discover that I couldn’t. I was tied down. I was restrained! Panic jumped inside me. I was defenseless. I was vulnerable. ‘Calm down’ I tried to tell myself, ‘calm down.’ But I began to freak out. I had to get out! I had to be free! I spazed out. Then a door appeared as Dr. Calstine strolled in. I calmed a bit at her entrance.
             “Dr. Calstine!” Relief flooded my voice. “Dr. Calstine, get me out of here.” She glanced at me then said.
              “Patient appears to be hallucinating again. Continue on with the treatment.” She looked down as she wrote on her clipboard. I looked at her incredulous. What the hell was she talking about? She knew me. Patient? Since when had I been called that? Never!
             “Dr. Calstine, let me out, release me!! Let me go!” I struggled against my restraints causing the bed to creak, when a thought rushed in to my head. “Andraia,” I breathed, then I louder. “Andraia. What did you do to Andraia? Why did she die? Dr. Calstine?” She continued to write on her board.
              “Patient appears to be talking about this “Andraia” again. It appears this Andraia has passed away…..”
               “WHAT!!!!!!!!! WHAT ARE YOU ABOUT CALSTINE?” I screamed, infuriated. “ANDRAIA’S DEAD, DIDEN’T YOU HEAR ME?! DEAD!”
                 “….patient seems to be getting aggravated by conceived loss…” she droned on.
                 “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU RAMBLING ON ABOUT BITCH?! WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER? WHY AM I TIED DOWN AND WHERE THE HELL AM I? TELL ME!” I was fighting my restraints trying to get at her, my face was twisted into a mask of rage and hurt. My hero had betrayed me. The perfect image I had had of her in my mind shattered in to a million pieces and descended upon my heart, cutting me to the soul. I continued to fight and wrench my arms, continued to scream obscenities and demanding that she tell me what she had done to my precious Andraia. On and on she droned, making remarks, scribbling down notes on her clip board. On and on I hollered and screamed, my language getting more and more colorful as I gave voice to my grief.
           My voice was beginning to feel raw when my tirade was cut short by a loud slap. Startled, I fell silent, wondering who had been slapped when I began to feel a searing pain on my cheek. I had been slapped! I concentrated on focusing my eyes. Dr. Calstine stood over me, blocking out the overhead light, so I could see only the dim features of her face.
            “Why you little…,” her voice was quivering with barely controlled anger. “Shut. Your. Mouth.” She bit off each word.
            “Tell me where Andraia is, Calstine,” I demanded stubbornly, jutting out my chin. And if my arms had been loose I would have crossed them over my chest in defiance.
           “This Andraia, of whom you speak, is only a figment of your own creation. As is this Calstine you seem to refer to as me. My name is Zephendopper. You are in the Oteen Sanitarium’s Insane Ward, as you have been since your thirteenth birthday. There was an Andraia in this wing but she came in a year after you did, and never left her room. No one ever leaves their room.”
            “What happened to her, you fucking…” Dr. Calstine…no Zephendopper raised an eyebrow.
           “She died of unknown complications. The drugs produced an unusual allergic reaction in her blood…..But that’s that. She proved  useful enough. In fact…”
           “SHE DID WHAT?” I roared! I couldn’t believe it. Dr. whats-her-name was talking about Andraia like she was a lab rat!
          “She was donated. Her parents couldn’t deal with her anymore, plus they were destitute and needed some funds. They answered the ad in the paper, just as your parents did.” The doctor shrugged. “People are better then rats for testing new treatments on. It’s just a shame that you will be the last test specimen.” The doctor began prepping a syringe. I eyed it fearfully.
           “What do you mean?” She flicked it a couple times to get the air bubbles out of it. “Why are you telling me all this?”
           “Because soon it won’t matter whether you know or not. This place is shutting down in a couple of weeks. We can’t have test specimens being found. Thank those do-gooders in town for getting the government involved. Now you’ll have to be put down. Such a shame, you’re always been my favorite.” She brushed a hand through my hair, chilling my skin to the bone. “Ahhhh, you’re so beautiful when you’re afraid. Tho I don’t know whether to call you beautiful or handsome. Ah well.” She threw her hands up in the air as she came forward with the shot. Just then I realized something.
            “Wait, you said that my parents answered the newspaper ad as well? That can’t be true. I was sent here because I tried to kill my uncle… I think.” The doctor began to laugh.
            “My dear, sweet, innocent child. Do you think we could actually advertise the need for human guinea pigs? Oh mah, stars, you are a riot. We merely offered to take troubled children off their parents hands while reimbursing the parents for their loss. Then a few months later the child would die some natural death and wha-la! No one comes to look for you. You were ours to do with as we pleased. But now, now we have to end our little experiment.” And with that, before I could say another word, I felt the sharp prick of the needle entering my skin, and my last thought before my eyes closed was,  
              “Damn, I’m glad she didn’t miss my vein!”
                
             When I came to, I was standing among rubble. The building was burned on the inside, though the walls still stood, sturdy as ever. There were half-burnt computer print outs, shingles, walling, what looked to be chicken wire. The paint was peeling off the walls in curved chips and a white powdery dust sprinkled out of the walls as the wind blew by. The place was a war-zone, but the war had long ceased. There was a layer of dust that covered everything that bespoke of the time past. I was at a loss. Everything I had even known was a lie. I thought. Who was more real Dr. Calstine or Dr. Zephendopper? And what about Andraia? There was no way I could have just dreamed her up. Just then I remembered the key she had given me. Where had it gone? I patted myself down. Nowhere! I raced back to where I thought her room had been. The room she never left alive. It was hard to make out. All the rooms were in pretty bad condition, some more burned then others. But, there! I saw something shimmer. I reached for it and pulled it up, attached to a skeletal hand. With a shriek I knocked it off. Then as my racing heart came back down to earth I opened my hand and gazed at the key. It was mesmerizing, it was glorious,  it was…..I shook my head. Wasn’t going to fall for that trick. I moved quickly through the ruins, a little hunched over. The walls seemed to be watching me. They seemed angry. Finally I came to the entrance of the tunnels. My body began to sweat as I reached for the door knob. I had never before been afraid of the tunnels, I was a vampire, I thrived in the darkness. But now, every shadow made me jump, every noise made me quiver in uncontrollable fear. And I was about to go down into the dark tunnels of the Sanitarium? But I had to see if there was anything in there. I had to see if my memories of Andraia were real or not. So, bracing myself I pulled. Nothing. It remained fast. Panicking I pulled harder, throwing myself back, straining every single muscle, gritting my teeth. Finally it gave a loud groan and swung open. A pitch-black maw gapped below me. I took a deep breath and plunged into the darkness. I could hear water trickling and dripping down the sides of the tunnel. I was a vampire. Vampires don’t get scared over little things like dripping water, I hoped it was water. I was invincible. My senses were all messed up. My ears were both muted and sharpened and my sense of touch was on fire. My eyes strained to see into the darkness but all I could see was cold velvet that covered my entire being. After what seemed like forever, I saw the end of the tunnel. It looked like a giant jelly fish that was moving slowly through the current. My relief could have lit a light bulb, that was how strong it was. I hurried through the rest of Oteen seeing only that is was almost as badly damaged as the Out Building had been. Finally I arrived at the place. I pried the picture of the Founder off the wall and reached behind into the wall, pulling out a safe box. I breathed a sigh of relief, at least that had been real. With shaking fingers I placed the key in the lock and turned till it wouldn’t turn anymore. I wanted to laugh with relief. There, in the bottom atop a group of papers and an envelope, was the treasure, the picture of the two of us grinning ear to ear, hugging each other as if we would never let go. I breathed a sigh of happiness. Just then, then a stoat wind blew in and caught the picture from my hand and I watched it crumble to dust. Then all around me, the building began to crumble in to fine gray-white dust that was swept away by the wind till I was left, holding an empty safe-box in a disserted field. I was devastated, I was distraught, I was alone….
I was in the arms of Kalynn. I jerked awake.
“Kalynn,” I whispered. “I just had this really weird dream…”
“Hmmm?” she asked sleepily?
“I think it’s about that place we’re going tomorrow night…” She yawned.
“The condemned Sanitarium?”
“Yah.” She looked at me then pulled me down and kissed my lips. “You should tell me about it tomorrow.”
“But I’ll forget it by then...” But she had already fallen back to sleep and her breathing was comforting, so I too feel back asleep, and forgot all that I had dreamt, the cool weight of a key around my neck whispered sweet nothings and promises of a treasure yet to be found.