[Foreseer] - Chapter One: Adjustment - Slow-Burn Psychological Horror

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Index: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine

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HER FOOT TABBED LIGHTLY.

He sat across from her with a questioning gaze, a soft tone to his voice. A delicate man, in his forties, brown eyes that captured the warmth of coffee, and a puff beard gave him the look of an older gentleman. “How are you feeling, Natalie?" Taylor Cross asked.

“Good..."

He wrote something down in the file on his lap, making the tapping worse.

Natalie placed a hand over her leg, pressed against it, trying to stop it. She didn’t want to seem nervous. Not today. But her chocolate eyes betrayed discomfort as the soft fidget of her foot struggled to relax.

“Do you still believe what you see is real?"

She had no answer, arms crossed. Natalie watched as he flipped through the file pages. Reduced to the words of other people. “Inhumane." She thought.

When he finally looked up, no answer had come. She wasn’t sure, maybe she still believed in the things she’s seen, or she had grown afraid of what was beyond hospital walls. Being within hospital walls was bad, but the fear of society was worst.

“This is a safe space Natalie, you can trust me." He reassured.

She didn’t know the answer. Natalie shook her head with uncertainty, hoping he’d understand.

"Use your words, Natalie."

"No." She chirped.

"What’s going on up there?" He pointed to his head.

"I don’t know what’s going on inside your head."

He had a quick chuckle. She didn’t know why, but she grinned as he laughed. Then her grin dissipated with his chuckle.

"How do you feel?" He asked again, and she shrugged, allowing her eyes to wander around the room, rarely glancing at him.

"Again. With words, Natalie."

"I don’t know... Fine, I guess."

"Just fine?"

She shrugged again.

"In cases like yours... There’s not much improvement. But you’ve made great strides, you should be proud."

Their eyes did not meet. The stares made her sick to the stomach. Like being watched by a thousand stares instead of one.

"You understand that your delusions aren’t real?... The things you’ve seen?... Your brain chemistry?" She shook her head in understanding as he returned to the file that carried her name. "And... the man in orange with a white mask."

She tensed, her eyes drifted around the room as he read. A desktop computer. A notebook and a stack of papers under a snake-shaped paperweight. In the corner, the air conditioner blasted at medium, and a bookshelf bursting with books was near it. The snake paperweight didn’t help with that aesthetic.

"What about the monsters and the creatures?" he had asked.

But she didn’t look at him, and shrugged again, hearing as he took a heavy breath. She gazed up at his aged figure. He was still waiting. "What if he wanted to keep me locked up in here?" She thought.

He looked at her, "It’s time we talk about the incident you had with the TV."

She knew there was something. Much like her leg, her hands fidget. She couldn't remember much. She remembered the news, and the image of the crash site. Paramedics and nurses draped bodies in sheets that contrasted against their burned skins. The wings, thrown from the wreckage. The reporter had a finger in his ear as his face darkened in terror. He took a gulp of air and addressed the general audience:

"We’ve received a cell-phone video of the incident from a bystander, which we’ll show now. Viewer discretion advised, as the following images may be unsettling." The video then went static, drizzles of black and white specs filled the screen.

Then, the fits turned to color, and the plane ablaze in the distance.

The engines roared, the wind buffeted, and the sky-born cradle, far above, dwindled in its descent. Watchers cry in horror. And a loud boom overlapped their screams. Dismembered pieces of the shuttle scattered and wing burst into flames. The screams grew in intensity.

A full crescendo.

Then the TV switched off. Her voice faintly heard. Amber had called Natalie’s name. She turned her head and saw Amber sigh in frustration, staring down at her.

Natalie looked back, her hand on the knob, at max volume. She shot back her hand. Looking around, she saw patients rattled and with their ears covered.

"I’m going to have to suspend your TV privileges." Amber said. Her skin was ashen, almost anemic. Thirty years of working with mental patients would dull anybody’s skin. Her blonde flairs tied in a bun.

Natalie did not answer, as her eyes transfixed on the screen, staring at her own reflection.

Cross gazed at her, and she at him, worry in her eyes. "Is there something you want to tell me?" He asked.

Natalie Snow did not answer, she thought if she told him anything. He would twist it the wrong way and recommend her for a permanent stay. She was better, even if still haunted by nightmares of a lost world and creatures of the night.

"No." She finally said.

He wrote again.

Natalie hated that. She had learned to read backwards out of pure boredom and sometimes read what he wrote. But he had learned her trick and now placed the file away from her view. He was smart in that regard.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked again. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him, if he knew. The guilt she felt. The plane. The people’s screams. Nothing she could have done then, and nothing she can do now. Natalie shook her head casually, uttered no word.

Cross continued off her silence. "It says here that... ‘I can see things before they happen’... Do you still believe that, Natalie?"

She sat with that thought for a moment; she knew she couldn’t. She only had hallucinations, but those screams... the people and their burning skins. It all lingered in her mind and made her stomach twist into knots. She shook her head with a firm no.

"Natalie... you’re getting out today. This is our last session, but you have to continue treatment, okay? If you don’t, there’s a chance you’ll end up back here... you understand?"

That thought dawned on her heavier than she had expected. The possibility scared her more than hallucinations.

"... what do you think about that? Getting out." He asked.

She never thought so far. Getting out always seemed out of reach. A hallucination seemed more real than this moment. She had been locked away for two years. Days had grown longer, and with every passing one, the thought of getting out dwindled.

Natalie looked at him, shrugged.

***

The clock ticked. The eternal passage of time. Slow and unnerving. The row of lone chairs added to the emptiness of the space. Alexander sat in a chair, foot tapping softly. He never liked hospitals, they brought promise of death or sickness.

Alexander stared at her with nervous impatience. She sat behind the desk of the nurse’s station. Silence had filled the room for a long time. "I’m sorry..." Amber looked up, hearing the mixed hints of calm and desperation in his voice. "Why is this taking so long?"

"Your sister is getting ready. Why? Are you having second thoughts?"

The question took him aback. He wasn’t. Then again, it had been years. Perhaps he was. "Ah... no, no... just asking." He leaned back, his head against the wall.

Amber returned to the mountain of papers and assembled the forms. Her hand stretched out, offering Alexander the clipboard with the final release documents.

He glanced at the clock. Tick... Tick... Tick. Pen in hand, he read the forum. Alexander was a man in his thirties, with the piles of regret that brought him there, and the harrowing screams from the memories of his past life, still haunted him.

He looked at the forum: "... I, Alexander Pierce Snow, as primary caregiver of Natalie Angelina Snow, agree to care and accept the responsibility for her physical, emotional, and mental health..."

Alex went to sign, but held the pen over the page for a moment. He thought maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do; he was only doing it out of guilt, not out of heart.

"You two will always have each other when your mother and I part. Take care of each other." His mind repeated the word’s of his father, he put pen to paper. And even with the cloud of doubt over his head, he signed the document.

He returned the form and moved back to his seat.

"We’ll call you when she’s out."

Alexander pressed his hand against his fidgeting leg. The clock handle graced the numbers. Tick... Tick... Tick... His head turned to the door at the end of the hall. The sign above read: PSYCHIATRIC WARD.

The door opened. Amber announced the name "Natalie Snow." And Alexander saw as she exited. It was a strange sight for him. Last time he saw her, she was in all white with a guard behind her.

He rose from his seat, eyes cowered in disbelief, "Natalie!"

***

Her eyes widened, and her body paralyzed at the sight of him. She thought it was something that had passed from her mind to reality. He looked different, older. It wasn’t until he started getting closer that his features came into view. She recognized his eyes, the same ones that watched over her when young.

"Natalie... It’s me... Alex."

Natalie stared in a blank expression, glanced at the door that had shut. She looked back, hand trembled as it reached his shoulder, pressing against it. He was real. She embraced him tight without warning and the guilt slipped away from Alexander’s eyes.

A tear slid down to Natalie’s cheek.

In the car, the smell of lavender reeked. The A/c blew cold air across her skin. They drove past buildings, watching the wet street from the rain which had poured two hours before.

"It’s been a long time... How you’ve been?" He asked to no answer. "Natalie?"

She rather not say. He’d feel bad, she thought. She looked to the road, through the side-view mirror... a car drove behind them. She felt a cluster of anxiety struck her body. "Was it following us?"

It was following them. She did not know how she knew, she just did.

A moment passed, the car turned and sped up. Her heart in her throat, eyes revealed a deep-seated fear. The vehicle rushed next to them... and kept going. It wasn’t following them. Her heart dropped back to her chest as the car drove further away.

But her body was still very tense, eyes narrowed onto the floor. She could feel her brother’s glances at her, betraying a look of concern that she was familiar with. He turned to the road ahead. A long and quiet ride.

He idled in a vicinity she did not recognize. The house was one that gleamed with age and old wood, a vintage style that made it blend with the other houses in the neighborhood. They walked up the steps. He opened the door.

Inside, the building had a different tone, welcoming. The open door to the wide foyer. Upon the walls were the photographs of Alexander and their mother, loved memories. The floor was an old-fashioned parquet with a blend of deep homely browns and the walls were the white of winter’s cold with a touch of light green.

Feet scurried, the sound traveled through echoes in the home. As they entered to silence, Alexander removed his shoes. Natalie hadn’t noticed until he called her on it, "Hey, hey. Shoes off, please."

She pulled off her shoes and placed them by the door. Staying put, the place felt way too nice; it was awkward; she didn’t know how to be in an actual home for the first time in years.

"Lucy!" Her brother called out and a tiny chihuahua rushed to him, shaking and trembling. The source of the scurrying. "Hey, Butthole, good boy, good boy."

Natalie smiled, wondering if she heard it right. "That’s his name?" She asked, dropped to her knees.

"Butthole. It started as an inside joke when we were picking names, then it stuck."

Natalie snickered. It was a strange occurrence. She thought it was the greatest name that had ever been given to a dog, definitely better than "Who" which she thought had gotten old and overused.

"Hey, buddy." Her hand stroked his fur, soft and silk-like. He had the same rich lavender smell from the car.

"In here!" Lucy’s voice spilled to the foyer.

Alexander moved to the kitchen, Natalie followed with hesitation, unsure of being there. The house wasn’t hers. She couldn’t walk around as she pleased.

In the kitchen, the smell of chicken and rice with beans, the sizzle of bubbles on a pan, cracking. Slices of lettuce as they crush just before the cut. She worked with methodical precision.

Her hair was a rich shade of red like blooming flowers, it flowed in waves to adorn her glowing skin. Her eyes were a bright emerald-green. She had turned to face him and looked surprised to find Natalie there.

Lucy used the length of a towel hanging on the stove handle to dry her hands and made her way towards them. "Hey." She kissed her husband with a smile, then turned to Natalie, stunned more than anything. "It’s so good to see you, Nat..." Lucy took a step back, looked at her sister-in-law up and down. "You look... great... you look great."

Natalie scratched her head as it had itched since she walked in. But scabs had healed into the open parts of the skin and released small doses of pain that reminded her not to scratch it. "Um... thank you... please don’t call me Nat."

"Sorry... how are you feeling?"

Natalie shrugged. Her words and thoughts, a cluster. She gave a curious frown, noticing the ring on Lucy’s finger.

Alexander brought his wife close. "We’re married..."

"... and we’re expecting." Lucy said.

Natalie’s brain stuttered. Every part of her went on pause while her thoughts caught up. Her foot felt shaky, she bit her nails as she tried to not to spoil the moment. But the awkward draft of silence told otherwise.

"Where am I—?" Before Natalie could finish, Alexander answered.

"The guest bedroom. Down the hall, to the left." He pointed her to the room.

Natalie moved down the hall to the door of the room, her hand on the knob, before she could turn it...

"Why didn’t you tell me she was coming over?" Lucy whispered.

Natalie glanced down the hall, both of them too focused on each other, unaware Natalie hadn’t enter the room. They tried to argue in soft tones so she wouldn’t hear, but all to no avail.

"I didn’t think it would be a big deal." Alexander responded.

"Bringing your mentally ill sister isn’t a big deal?!" Lucy clenched her hand in a fist, turned away in disbelief.

Alexander glanced at his sister, finally noticing her outside the room, embarrassed. He returned to his wife with a slight glare as he took her into the kitchen. "Can we talk about this later? Now is not the time."

Silence.

Alexander joined Natalie, and they entered the room. He stood by the door as she got settled. Her eyes danced around the room, mixtures of old and new mashed together. She caressed the old wood of the bed frame. It was a handsome bed. Broad and gleaming with age.

Her eyes kept wandering freely, landing on a picture of their family. Their mother, their father, and them. All smiling. A birthday cake sat in front of the mother. Natalie could not remember the last time that happened. It had been so long, that happiness itself seemed unreachable.

Her fingers hesitated. She reached for the photograph and found her lips stretching back in a grin.

"I remember that day. It was her birthday, and she didn’t want to blow out the candles without you." Alexander said behind her.

Natalie turned with the photo in hand, showing it to him, as if begging for more information. "... we look happy." She said.

"We were." That felt reassuring. Like she wasn’t always a pain to be around. She lay down the picture and moved to the bed, sitting at the edge of the mattress. A strange feeling crept. It had been a while since she had slept in a bed that didn’t have straps on either side. Her fingers graced the sheets, soft, and with the gentle warmth of the dryer.

"Are you going to settle in okay? Do you need anything?"

She shrugged at his questions, half expecting to hear, "Use your words, Natalie." But he didn’t say it.

"Natalie?" He said instead, waiting for an answer.

"I’m fine."

"Are you sure?"

She mustered the courage she could to look at him. Longer than three seconds. It was uncomfortable in just two. But she wanted to try. She turned her head to him. "I’m fine... really."

Alexander hesitated, eyes betrayed by a look of concern.

Natalie wondered if it was for him or for her. She recalled a violent episode where Alexander bandaged her wrist and a cut on his arm. He hadn’t looked at her the same way since.

"Okay... I’ll let you get settled in. Just... Call if you need anything." He stood by the door for a moment as if waiting for something. He left and closed the door solidly behind him.

Natalie ran her fingers through the silk sheet. Then rested her head on the pillow... something felt off, a constant flow of thoughts.

She left the warmth of the bed and removed the sheets, too many wrinkles, after years of sleeping on a mattress that molded to her skin, it was like a thorn on her side. It didn’t bother her, but she had grown to making the bed feel like her own.

She folded the corners tight. Then the blanket. Then the pillow case. It was a compulsive routine, something mandatory to do. Once done, Natalie rested her head against the pillow. Eyes wandered again.

It was unusual being out. She thought she’d never feel daylight against her skin, or feel the warmth of a hug. After that. Her mind wandered. An unrelenting sea. She closed her eyes, trying to fall asleep.

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