Oneirophrenia 0.3

The humming and whirring of medical appliances had actually become soothing to Kira, anything was better than the silence. Orderlies bustled around her, taking vitals and injecting various substances into her IV. Her body slowly relaxed as she re-acclimated to life outside of hell. All the noises, so loud, so many of them. She watched her life line, a glowing green snake in this Garden of Eden, taunting her. Even after all that she had been through here at the facility, she still believed in God, maybe not in the traditional sense. Her thoughts on religion are that there is some unknown benefactor that never intervenes and yet makes his presence known through unexpected peace of mind. Just like the tranquility that washed upon her in that instant. She allowed her eyes to close and to wallow in the bliss that had befallen her.

“So Kira, how was your night?”

It was the psychologist, the Americanized Asian one. Maybe he was first generation, but you could hear slight deviations in his voice that clarified that he was still foreign. She replied without opening her eyes, “Oh, the same as usual. You are such a dear for checking up on me.”

“Your fever appears to have gone down, how are you feeling?”

He was going to be very droll with his conversation today, she could tell. She needed to make things a little more interesting. “Doctor, please let’s not insult either of us. We both know I am miserable; the food is, my cot is uncomfortable, the room is too tiny, there is no entertainment, and I am close to being bored to death! If you do not make amends to my situation, I find there is no reason to talk to you.”

At this point I had to open my eyes, the silent reaction would be displayed clearly on his face. The slight contortions in his muscles completely altered his visage. His calm went to vexed and snapped into a gridiron poker face.

“As much as I love listening to all your complaints, I unfortunately cannot change a damn thing thing about your living conditions. Now let’s get back on topic!” he said with a hushed rage.

She giggled and fabricated a tale that would satisfy the psychologist. She spoke not of the hooved demon and its sweet whispers of liberation. It came to her like it had every other night but this time had seemed different. Her vengeance might soon be on the rise.

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