A Memory Best Forgotten

I was back in "that" room and "he" stood behind me smelling of leather, bleach, and a natural body musk that was none too pleasant. His scent would be permanently stamped into my brain.

I could hear the scratching of his pen as he took notes of how I reacted to waking up to find myself strapped down to the bed. It was too familiar for me to respond so I kept my eyes blank and my body malleable. It would make whatever he was going to do to me next hurt a degree less.

Of all the doctors I had seen over the last 4 years, he was the one that still sent my heart into overdrive and triggered panic attacks. His tests were borderline cruel but after my father said it was necessary I stopped asking for the visits to be canceled. It took a few minutes, but he finally stood in front of me. His steely grey eyes bore into mine and he smiled curiously as he tightened the straps binding my hands.

"How are you doing today, my dear?" He was polite but disconnected. He could have been asking about the weather. I ignored him and began my routine. Taking a deep breath, I slowly exhaled allowing my mind to delve deep into my subconscious. I was gearing up for the inevitable pain.

Once I was deep enough, I would lose track of time and my body would be numb to the agony. Thankfully, because of my mother's constant beatings, I was used to putting myself in this trance almost instantly. Occasionally, but not too often and totally out of morbid curiosity, I would tune in to what the doctor was doing to me.

I was neck deep in one of my few happy memories, my first tennis tournament victory, when a faint tingle snaked up my arms toward my face. My body twisted up and off the table. Another twinge moved through my body, and this time I felt more than just phantom pain. This bordered on the real thing.

The pain went from twinges to tides. This really hurt! The waves intensified until I was catapulted out of my subconsciousness. A scream ripped from my throat as unimaginable pain tore through me. There was no relief! Waves of agony, each more intense than the previous one, coursed through my body. I screamed and cried until my throat was raw and my voice hoarse from begging him to stop.

There was no relief, no gap that would allow me to sink back into a hypnotic state. There was just unending pain that zinged to the marrow of my bones and tore at my pain receptors until they were raw.

It went on for what felt like hours until my heart started beating at a full gallop, sputtered, and stopped. Just before I was completely swallowed by the blackness, I heard a loud bang and my father's angry voice. Then I sank into the darkness of sweet rest.

I had almost died that day and it was the only time my father ever apologized for the constant exams and endless needle pricks. When I was younger, he had explained that I was one of a kind and that he and his friends had to study me so that they could keep me stable and healthy.

I never understood what he meant and threw a tantrum every time I had to go to a visit. It wasn't until I met Dr. Titus Levi, the psychologist, that I had begun to enjoy, somewhat, my numerous trips to the lab of hell.

Dr. Levi was a peculiar man. He was young, tall with a squared jaw, and built like one of those old-time warriors you only see in history books. He wasn't traditionally handsome but there was something so intense about him that my heart sputtered when we first met.

Over time, I realized that it was his eyes. They were a weird moss green that I had never seen before and had a hypnotic quality to them. Every time he turned those peepers on me, I felt like he was seeing right through me and into the depths of my soul.

It was both unsettling and soothing at the same time.

"South Station! Please don't forget to take your belongings!" The blare of the T-worker's voice pulled me from my thoughts as the train slowed to a stop. I took a deep breath, stood up, and put my head down doing my best to blend into the crowd of people on their way to school and work.