Free Pool of Crimson by Suzanne M. Sabol Page A

Maybe they had other plans. All I could do was close the door and direct the driver toward Grandview. Everything else would have to wait.

Chapter 5
    I couldn’t move. I was flat on my back, and I couldn’t move my arms and legs. My heart raced and the familiar padded restraints around my wrists and ankles irritated my skin as I tried to pull away from the table I was strapped to. The several light fixtures that hung from the ceiling with cages covering the bright white bulbs hurt my eyes. I couldn’t see anything past a few feet around me, and beyond that was darkness.
    I’d been here before. The familiar ionic smell from deep in my brain filled the air. It singed my nose hair, and I struggled harder to get free.
    I had to get out of here. The restraints were so strong, so tight. I couldn’t budge any of them, on my wrists or on my ankles. I lifted my head from the table to try and see into the darkness, but I could only lift myself up so far. Something was attached to my temples and the adhesive pulled painfully at my skin when I lifted my head. My eyes watered as the skin at my temples burned and tore.
    “No,” I whispered into the emptiness surrounding me. “Please no,” I whimpered softly as my jaw tightened and the tears slid down the sides of my face, wetting my hair and filling my ears with warm salt water. I couldn’t be here, not again.
    “Don’t cry,” a soft feminine voice cooed from the corner. I knew that voice, too. A small woman with my features and thick blond hair that had been dyed too many times to hold any remnants of her original auburn stepped from the darkness. Her features were sharp but had a softness to them that made her pretty instead of striking. She was beautiful, petite, and scary as hell.
    “Mom, what are you doing?” I asked through broken sobs. I was still trying to pull my wrists free from the restraints as I spoke. They were too tight, and I couldn’t slip my hands through. The skin over my thumb burned as I stretched and twisted my hand to pull it free from the beige leather restraints.
    If I can get just one hand out ...
    “I’m going to help you,” she said with a self-confident smile that I recognized from my childhood. It was soft, warm, and painful.
    “I’m okay, really. I don’t need help,” I said with false confidence as I sniffled and tried to pull myself together.
    “No, darling, you’re anything but okay,” she said as she stroked my hair away from my face. Her fingers were chilled and clammy as they brushed my forehead. She looked down into my face and met my eyes without a speck of regret or uncertainty. It was the first time that I’d felt actual terror. “This will make all those things you think you see go away. You’ll be better. You’ll see,” she said, a confident little smile lighting her soft green eyes.
    My bottom lip trembled in fear and I ripped my head away from her touch. I had to get free. I wouldn’t let her do this to me again. Not again.
    “Struggling, darling, will only make it hurt worse,” she said, an irritated tone to her singsong voice as she stepped away. Deep down, I knew she was right, remembered that she was right.
    The first jolt of electricity ripped through my body like lightning. All my muscles tensed in shock, and I bit down to grit my teeth to bare it.
    “ERRRRRGGGHHHH.”
    I opened my eyes and sat straight up. My breath was quick and shallow as I looked around a familiar room, a familiar bed, and the familiar peace and quiet of my bedroom. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I brushed the tears from my cheeks. The all-too-familiar smell of burnt flesh and hair filled my nose.
    I’m okay. It was just a dream. Just a stupid God damn dream.
    My face scrunched up in remembered terror, and I cried. I cried until I had no tears left and I was exhausted from the effort. It had been a long time since I’d dreamed of those sessions. It had been a long time since I’d even thought about the electroshock therapy.