Psychiatry #4 (Fiction)

She lies still.

Her eyes gape open.

Not a word leaves her mouth.

She turns towards the pool of crimson red.

Apathy stains her eyes.

Someone’s holding onto her arm, another pinning her legs down to the mattress.

“We’re going to have to strip search you.”

She trembles.

Her lips quiver, but her gaze holds nothing.

A malodorous stench escapes as they tear her underwear away - she's wincing this time, struggling to resist the force over her.

They snip her dress, exposing her clammy back and buttock, whatever dignity left she hoped to preserve – completely stripped away.

Still, not a word leaves her mouth.

A tear rolls down her cheek as her body begins to seize violently.

They tighten their grip on her, determined to find the culprit.

A metal bar is passed down the line and a shadow runs it up and down her body multiple times.

Nothing.

The force of five pair of hands flip her onto her front as they wave their wand, frantically this time, desperate to locate the one thing that could restore peace.

Nothing.

She finally plasters on a smile – her version of satisfaction for the chaos she's caused.

They attack her breasts, convinced that there is no other location she could have hidden the razor blade.

“Kim, what did you use to cut yourself? Are you sure it was a razor blade?”

They have no idea. She moans in pain as they intrude on her being, but her thoughts are secure, safe, sacred, she realizes.

They haven't a clue what to do.

Alas, sighs echo throughout the room. The sound of defeat, and victory for her.

“You know it’s only going to be harder from here, Kim?” they threaten her.

Her smile maintains.

Her blood runs in streams down her arms, as it continues to pool onto the floor.

She relishes in their murmurs, their frantic discussions, their futile plotting.

They are pacing, racking their brains for new ideas,

Their desperation accentuating their loss of control.

"We just want you to be safe."

Lies. Always lying.

But it matters not, for control is in her hands.

They whisper orders. They fumble. One topples the vitals monitor. Another stares at her crimson creation.

They have lost,

And she has won:

Though they tore her apart, the truth will never be theirs to find.

Borderline (2025).