im a huuuge sucker for "bad reaction to the sedative" whump—staying unconscious for longer than supposed to, disoriented, rapid heartbeat, blurry eyesight, headaches, no control over their limbs, just awake enough to notice they're being taken, to hear voices speak over them, feel hands on their body.
even better if it's carewhumper trying to rouse them and getting worried by the lack of reaction, how pale and weak and out of it whumpee looks, barely able to stay lucid enough to be given some water.
Sedation that doesn't knock you out completely, but just makes you very confused and tired instead, unable to form a clear though, yet still somewhat aware of what's happening around you. Drugging basically...
Augh
I especially adore that when combined with an otherwise very defiant whumpee who refuses medical treatment, and a kind, gentle caretaker? One who holds their hand, strokes their hair and reassures them that everything is going to be okay? Even better when it's a hero/villain dynamic???
To survive, Seo Dong Ju (Park Hyung Sik) a chairman's secretary at Daesan Group hacked into a political slush fund worth 2 trillion won. Heo Il Do (Lee Hae Young) is a powerful shadowy figure, who loses 2 trillion won by killing a man without knowing that he was hacked.
Something deliciously evil about drugging Whumpee's food. Especially when they know it's drugged.
How long can Whumpee really keep a hunger strike up? 3 days? A week? Two weeks? Eventually hunger is gonna win out. Especially when the food is always right there, staring them in the face.
Whumpee might even start trying to make escuses to themselves. Maybe the drugs won't kick in if they just have a little bit. Maybe if they eat it and throw it up, they'll sate their hunger without the drugs taking effect. Maybe if they eat it really fast...
And then they start thinking... is being drugged really all that bad? Is their current reality really something they want to be sober for?
And once they've made that compromise, then hunger isn't the only thing they're honest feel when they stop eating the food. Now they'll be going through withdrawal as well. Now Whumper can withhold food, and therefore the drugs, as a punishment.
MASTERLIST - PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4 - PART 5 - PART 6 - PART 7 - PART 8 - PART 9 - PART 10
Author's note: Hello lovelies! It's been a while. At the moment I'm experiencing something pretty traumatic but having this space to be safe has been really nice. I finally wrote this all in one go and I do think it helped me process. Thank you all for reading and your continued support.
CWs: general mental illness content, psychiatric care whump, medical gaslighting, forced psychiatric care, medical malpractice, being forcefully restrained, use of force on patient, forced sedation/drugging using needles
James paced around the room frantically. It was 11:30pm, according to the small analogue clock on the wall in his room at Redwood Psychiatric Hospital. The air was chilly, and he rubbed his goosebump-riddled arms. The thin white scrubs of the Redwood patient uniform were paper-thin. His hands shook as he picked up the note again and unfolded it to read it for the hundredth time. He knew every word on the now sweat-stained piece of paper by memory. He checked the time once again, to make sure he wasn’t going to be late. The clock read 11.31pm. James took a deep breath, attempting to slow his heart rate.
The hospital was silent at this hour, the nurses having finished their night rounds. The security guards were just about to leave the floor to continue their nightly patrol around the grounds. They’d be back in about an hour and a half as they would loop back around. That left James plenty of time to sneak out the doors.
The next twenty-five minutes passed all too slowly. James snuck out of his room, the door making a soft click as he pulled it closed. He tiptoed out into the dark hallway, checking left and right to make sure no one was there. The silence hung thick in the air. He crept down the hallway towards the end of the East Wing ward. The doors to the wing could only be opened by a keycard, yet they hung open, allowing access to the stairwell which led down to the first floor. James stopped on the threshold, uncertain whether he should proceed. Then, a whisper came from the hall beyond the doors.
“Are you coming?”
James’ blood froze. The whispering voice had to belong to the author of the note. But was this a trap? That thought had already crossed his mind a few times, but he’d countered it by telling himself that he had to take the chance to get out. If he didn’t, and it wasn’t a trap, he’d regret it for the rest of his life. His life would be miserable if he was trapped in here for the rest of it. But now that he was about to leave, the doubt crept in again. If this was a trap, the consequences could be terrifying. He slowly crept out past the doors, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. The person on the other side came into view, and James’ mouth dropped open with surprise. It was a familiar face that greeted him.
“Dan?” He whispered.
The burly orderly offered a soft smile. “Hey, James. Are you ready to get out of here?"
James blinked. Of course, it made sense that his mystery helper was someone inside the hospital who’d be able to sneak the note into his room. And he’d have access to key cards and keys to let James out. And Dan had been kind to him, despite assisting Dr Wilson.
“Why are you helping me?” James asked.
“Because, it’s the right thing to do. Once I found out from Doctor Wilson that you weren’t really ill, I felt sick. He’s been keeping you here and... and torturing you, and I knew it had to stop. And I could help you. So that’s what I’m doing.” Dan nodded to the stairwell. “You better get going. The guards should be in the next building over now, so you should be able to get well out of the gate by the time they return. I already unlocked the gate for you so all you need to do is run. Here, take this.”
The orderly held out a jacket. It looked like it might be a little big for James, but it would keep him warm in the cold night air. He slipped it around himself and zipped it up.
“Thank you, Dan. I know you could get in heaps of trouble for this, so I appreciate it.” James shook the orderly’s hand gratefully.
“Don’t you worry about that, young man.” Dan said. “Just run.”
And with that, James turned on his heel and started quietly but quickly down the stairwell. When he got to the bottom floor, he pushed open the exit doors and slipped outside. The sprawling green lawn was empty, the tall fence the only obstacle between him and freedom. The sky was dark, with not many stars in sight. The only light came from a few large spotlights. He pulled the jacket tighter around himself as the wind whipped around him. Flashes of another night just like this one came back to James. A night where he stood on the other side of that fence, looking up at the tall buildings of Redwood Psychiatric Institute. The letter had called him Rowan. It was a familiar name, but by now his mind was so scattered and fried that he could not remember whether Rowan Murdock was a real person or a figment of his mind. The doctors had said that name, but that could mean anything. He could hardly remember why he was here anymore, he just knew he wasn’t supposed to be and the doctors knew it too.
He heard the distant sound of footsteps crunching on gravel, and his blood went cold. The guards were coming past. He had to go, now. The second he stepped out from the dark gravel path he would be on the lawn, and he would be far more exposed in the spotlights. He started to run, frantic footsteps carrying him across the path. His feet crunched on the gravel, but he didn’t stop, bolting out onto the fresh green grass.
‘Hey you! Stop!” A gruff voice yelled.
Fear coursed through him, but James didn’t stop. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when he was nearly at the gate that he turned back to see the guards. There were about ten of them, and they’d all started racing after him. They were already halfway across the lawn. He took the last few paces to the gate, and started to push. It didn’t budge. He cursed under his breath. It was supposed to be unlocked. It was, he realised, but there was a post in the ground and he had to pull a lever to lift it. The gate would not open unless he lifted it. He pulled it, but it was sticking. Frantically, he pulled on it harder, ignoring the shout of the guards as they came ever closer. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he successfully lifted the post and began to shove his shoulder into the heavy gate to shove it open. With a creak, it opened enough to let him squeeze through. The guards were metres away. James burst through and started to run, faster than he’d ever run in his life. It was like one of those horrible nightmares, in which you ran so fast but it felt as if you were frozen in place while the source of your terror closed in on you. He had to keep running, even though each breath was getting harder and harder to draw into his lungs. He ran until - he tripped over a twig, toppling towards the ground and face planting in the lawn.
James let out a sob, hearing footsteps and shouts get closer and closer. His ankle ached as he tried to pull himself upright. He could see trees up ahead, and between those trees he thought he could see a road. A road that would lead him far, far away from this place. To a home, maybe? He never stopped to think about what his home was, or who might be waiting for him there. He couldn’t remember a home, or a family. James stared at the trees, tears prickling in his eyes as he managed to drag himself onto his knees. He couldn’t walk. But he wasn’t going to give up that easily. He began to crawl towards the trees, ignoring the increasing shouts from the guards. James had almost made it to the first tree when a fist gripped his tender ankle.
“NO!” He cried, attempting to shake the fist free and keep crawling.
“Stop!” The guard growled, gripping harder.
James screamed, a primal scream of rage and fear, as the guard tackled him to the ground and pinned him on his stomach in the dirt. “Get the hell off me! No! You can’t keep me here!”
James thrashed in the guard’s grip, panic making his blood run cold but he fought harder and stronger nonetheless. He wasn’t going to give up, not when he was this close to getting free. The guard continued shouting, incoherent words that didn’t register in James’ head. He didn’t even see the other guards swarming around them, walky-talkies and flashlights in hand as they called in for assistance. He did see the flashlights pointed at his face, and he squirmed away to shelter his eyes. He struggled harder against the guard pinning him, and another guard came to his assistance. The weight of the two full-grown men was enough to hold the weak younger patient down. James continued to thrash and scream as they pulled him upright and began to drag him back towards the Institute. His injured ankle throbbed as he was forced to drag it underneath him. As they reached the gates, staff members came rushing out from the building. Several orderlies approached the guards. The guards threw James to the ground, the wind whipping out of him with an oomph. The guards pinned his wrists behind him, shoving the jacket off of his shoulder.
“NO! Get off! Get OFF!” James screamed, trying desperately to get them off.
“Just hold him still.”
He could see an orderly out of the corner of his eye. She was approaching, holding a capped hypodermic needle. There was no way out. He was trapped. Trapped, after being so close to freedom. The orderly kneeled down next to him and uncapped the needle.
“It’s going to be okay, sweetie. You just need to calm down. We’re going to make you all better, ok?” She smiled, then jabbed the needle into his bare shoulder.
James let out one last scream. His shoulders shook with sobs as he tried with his last ounce of strength to get away. But he was held steady. It was futile. Tears trickled down his cheeks as slowly, his muscles stopped responding. Time slowed down as he stared up into the night sky, vision beginning to blur. He went limp in the guards’ grip as the world slipped away, and along with it, his last chance at freedom.
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Something about hearing you whisper “shh… it’s okay baby, don’t fight it. I got you, you’re okay. Nice and easy for me, there we go” to me as you inject a sedative into my bloodstream just makes me feel so fuzzy inside ^v^
