27. Any and all whump, trapped, and mistreated in institutions is ideal but manhandling, manipulation, test subjects, and general betrayal will also do the trick. Most of my psychiatric hospital prompts and storylines are set back in the 1940s-60s, when care was particularly misunderstood.
mostly alfie and harris but a few other story lines too :)
Alfie and Dr. Harris- 1950’s psychiatric institutionalization, obsessive doctor
In Love with the Hero- The villain has been caught, put away so he can’t hurt anyone else, so why does the hero feel guilty? Themes of institutional abuse
Xavier Institutionalized, School Spirits fanfic- He tells his dad what’s going on and suddenly Xavier’s watching the world from a padded room and his friends have no idea where he is.
Averil- 1920s, from a good family- he and his illness must be hidden from view, Ave finds himself institutionalized and being called a name he doesn’t recognize.
Dinner came with more tablets in paper cup, then Dr. Hunt. The moment the doctor walked in, Xavier knew he wasn't going to like how this conversation ended. He had been pacing and the doctor commented on the uneaten food.
He had glared at him and snapped back, “Well yeah, what do you expect- Im stressed- you people are keeping me here against my will.”
He shouldn’t have snapped at him- he knew that instantly.
The doctor only nodded and scribbled something onto his clipboard.
Xavier tried to apologize, sit down, look calm…
But the doctor only wanted to focus on the ghosts- thinly veiling off hand comments designed to get him to admit he was completely delusional, utterly insane and saw ghosts.
It was irritating but it also freaked him out. Why were they so dead set on the idea he had to be crazy?
He was used to people thinking the worst of him. In fact, in recent years he had begun to lean into the persona: grunge clothing, skipping class, some light drug use and a devil-may-care attitude.
It hurt less to be undervalued if he intentionally invited it the judgement.
So yeah, strangers and acquaintances jumped to conclusions about him all the time. But this- this was new- he wasn’t used to preconceived notions of insanity.
Were they really trying to trick him into admitting? Why wouldn’t they just take his answers at face value?
They had already made up their opinions, just like the kids at school and every single one of his teachers. They were treating this like an interrogation where he would eventually crack and they would be proven right.
They would trust the sheriff. His son was just an unreliable, delusional problem.
So he tried his best not to give the doctor anything he could sink his claws into.
---
That night, he slept because of whatever they gave him at bedtime. So hard in fact that he only woke up twelve hours later to someone nudging him and calling his name loudly.
”-Xaiver-“
He was bleary and confused. Above him was a nurse, orderly and a different man in a white coat.
“Good morning, Xavier, your dad is here to see you.”
That woke him up quickly. His dad was here- he’d take him home now. He'd talk to him. He would tell him they were drugging him. His dad would want him out of here and forget it ever happened.
Thank fucking god.
He wrenched himself up but then the orderly was already putting a hand on his chest- “Just a minute, first, take this-"
Xavier looked at the little pot the nurse was holding forward, then to the new doctor and the orderly. Why did he have to take something if he was leaving?
They all stared, “As soon as you take it, you can go see your dad.”
Xavier tamped down the growing feeling of dread in his stomach and nodded, then swallowed the cupful in one go.
See, he was of sound mind, compliant and polite.
”Good job.” The new doctor said, his eyes warm.
The doctor and the orderly walked him to a therapy room, he had to enter first. It seemed the new doctor was just the one on shift today. On the way there he assured Xavier that he had read all of the notes and spoken to the others. Xavier didn’t feel comforted by that.
His dad was already sitting in one of the three chairs in the plain shoe box sized room. His eyes flit up to see Xaiver but he didn’t look relieved to see his only child.
The orderly pulled out a chair that Xavier was obviously meant to sit in. Then the doctor sat in the remaining chair.
Oh so it was going to be one of those kinds of meetings- like a parent teacher.
Those had never gone well for him.
“Sheriff Baxter, I am glad you could make it.”
Xavier’s Dad only nodded, eyes hard, like he didn’t want to be here.
Then the doctor looked back to him, “Xavier, we like to have group meetings like this with the patient and family so that everyone is included and everyone can have an input in the patient’s care-“
Xavier nodded, posture unsually straight and stiff. He just need to talk to his dad.
“So, Xavier, how are you feeling today?”
It took him a second to recognize that he had asked the question, he was too focused on what he wanted to say to his dad.
"Uh- fine. Can I just talk to my dad for a second?"
"This is a group conversation, Xavier."
He glanced between the two of them, uncomfortable but he spoke anyway, "Dad- I am really feeling fine. I think i was tired the other night or something. My head's feeling a lot better."
His dad's forehead was creased and he looked down.
"Look- Dad, listen to me. They've been drugging me. I need you to take me home. This place is freaky. I promise I am fine-" His voice rose just a little. His dad didn't want to be here.
That freaked Xavier out further. Hopefully he would sign the papers and they would just go home and never talk about this never again.
The doctor and his dad shared a millisecond long look.
“Xavier, we are going to talk about next steps-"
He looked at both of them, dread pooling and then replied as neutrally as he could, “… Okay?”
“The other clinicians and I have reviewed your case carefully. We took many things into consideration, like what your dad told us, your behavior while here, what you’ve shared- …. And it is our recommendation that you continue in-patient treatment for a little while longer.”
Xavier looked at his Dad then the doctor again, “-Continue?” He was dumbstruck, “I told you- I told everyone- I am not crazy, I don’t believe in fucking ghosts-”
His dad looked like he was in pain but still didn’t speak. The doctor continued, unphased, “I know this might seem overwhelming, maybe frustrating- but we all just want what is best for you- and right now that’s giving you the care you need.”
Xavier kept his tone low and slow hoping his voice wouldn’t shake, “Dad- come on- this is crazy- bat shit.”
The sheriff finally looked back at him, “Xavier- I agree with the doctors, and I think we gotta let them do their jobs and help you.”
“What do I have to say to get you all to get it- What will get through to you?! Is this about the upcoming election?!”
The fucking sheriff's election. A son accused of murdering his girlfriend was a very inconvenient line on voter's ticket.
”Xavier there is no right answer here, only next steps we can take to help you-“
Xavier’s mouth hung open- as if he was waiting for something-anything to reply with. But he was at a loss. Holy shit, they were doing this. Was this his Dad’s solution for his disappointing fuck up of a son? Or was he actually scared?
The doctor forged ahead, taking advantage of his patient’s momentary silence, “Greenbrook is a great facility. They focus on kids, kids like you- it’s really the ideal situation.”
A lump formed in Xavier’s throat and the stunned sensation pervading every sense kept all words back.
“And just your luck, they happen to have a bed available. Some of their staff are on their way over to help you transfer.” The doctor's expression was opaquely optimistic.
Xavier could only stare at the man, unable to conceive of a way out of this.
“Once you’ve settled in, your dad can visit you there and in no time you’ll have a solid plan of treatment to help get you back to the Xavier you want to be.”
The doctor clapped him on the back as he stood up. Another set of hands helping him out of his chair. His dad was finally speaking but he wasn’t hearing words as they guided him mute and dazed out of the room.
Then it was a surreal blur.
They put restraints- restraints- on him, the kind where two soft canvas loops held his wrists to a belt around his waist. They made him swallow a fresh dose of pills. Orderlies escorted him out of a side hospital entrance.
He had looked around. Looking for his dad at first.
For a brief moment as he looked all around him, some stupid, childlike hope that Simon or Claire would be there- maybe coming to the hospital to see if he was there- and would save him.
But no one was there but an off duty nurse smoking a cigarette, a white passenger van and two men in different uniforms.
They warmly greeted him by name. It sounded so wrong while he was in restraints and getting pulled in against his will. They buckled him into a seat and the door clicked shut.
His friends would think he had abandoned them.
He nodded off during the drive and only woke to someone jolting him into consciousness as they loudly called his name. Whatever they had given him had definitely been another sedative.
The blur continued, a mix of sickening shame and confusiun.
More cheery people led him into a building with long halls and none of the monotonous hospital colored features registered.
He kept stumbling but they held him up as they walked.
"Yep, they gave a hefty dose of diazepam before the transfer, elopement risk. By the looks of it, the doc will have to wait till he’s settled for a few hours to interview.”
”He’s assigned B16, you can take him on down and get him changed for now. He won't be due for meds till noon.”
At one point hands were removing the restraints and then lifting his shirt. In his fog he clumsily backed away, alarmed.
”It’s okay Xavier, we’re just helping you change. Would you like to do it yourself?” The voice was loud and slow- as if he was an idiot… and five.
Blinking hard and his head ringing he grabbed the light green cotton scrubs. He almost fell twice, hands kept materializing to keep him upright. He was so focused on the task that he wasn’t as embarrassed as he should have been to be changing in a room of strangers.
Then he was alone, and lying on a rubber coated mattress.
This is set right after Xavier tells his dad the truth close to the end of season 2, in this version, his dad doesn’t believe him and thinks his son has completely lost it.
Masterlist
Chapter 1:
He didn’t think he had a choice any more. The lies were compounding and his dad was smart enough to know when he was being lied to.
So he finally did what his dad had asked for a thousand times over… Xaiver told him the truth. His Dad had been interrogating him for it- demanding he explain the late nights out- what he was doing over on that side of town when he got hit by his own car- all these new friends- Maddie disappearing- Maddie coming back not like herself. His dad was a good enough sheriff to know that nothing his son was telling him came within the same continent of the truth.
And Xavier knew how it sounded as he began talking at their kitchen table- Maddie not being Maddie, ghosts, body swapping. He thought it was crazy too. At first.
-But once he started telling it, it came out so easily. It was a relief to tell the truth, no matter how absurd it sounded.
But his dad didn’t see it that way.. when Xavier finally paused to look up at his dad, the man's expression was unfamiliar and uncomfortable.
His dad had told him he’d been worried about him before but those words were always delivered with exasperation, irritation and hard eyes…
…. Not this.
It took him uncomfortably long to speak as Xavier waited, leaned forward at the linoleum table in their kitchen. Long enough for a distinctive feeling of shame to settle in Xavier's chest.
“…Look… Xavier…” He grimaced, “I know it’s been tough for you- the accident- your classmates posting online that you did something to Maddie… now her being back- it’s a lot…” his voice was so tender. Xavier felt a chill go down his spine. This wasn’t what he had meant-
“Dad- I’m okay- I’m just telling you the truth- why I’ve been out so much- I know it sounds crazy at first but I can prove it to you- didn’t you want the truth?“
“Xavier. You’re tired. And you’re still healing. Maybe we should get you seen by the doctor again.”
The chill settled in a cold lump in Xavier’s stomach. His dad didn’t believe him- of course he didn’t. He thought his already fucked up burden of a son was crazy.
Xavier stood up, alarm and shame growing in him.
“Xavier- stop- where are you going-“
Xavier slammed his bedroom door shut. He wanted to take back every word of the last ten minutes. Such an idiot. Such a fucking idiot.
Why would his dad ever believe him? What evidence from his entire life with the man would support that expectation?
The heat of shame flushed his neck and face. He had let his guard down. He was such a fucking idiot, delusional to think his Dad would believe anything he would say- his Dad hadn’t even believed his own son when he swore he didn’t hurt Maddie.
He needed to redirect, distract himself- He threw himself onto his bed and opened his phone. For a brief second he considered texting Simon… but he didn’t want to admit to him that he was dumb enough to tell his dad. Simon would laugh at him for being a complete idiot or be irritated and berate him. He didn’t know which would make him feel worse.
So instead he opened a dumb game he had downloaded before Maddie ever disappeared. It was better than punching a hole in his wall and he had deleted his instagram the day he had left Maddie's vigil in the back of a cop car.
It had been about 10 minutes since he shut himself in his room when he heard another voice outside his bedroom… He sat up quickly- it wasn’t just his dads voice…
He was only just registering this when the door cracked open, no knock, revealing his dad and… one of his deputies.
“Xavier-“ his dad was speaking softly- gently. Very much not like his dad, “I think we need to take you back to get checked out by the doctor again- Williams is going to drive.”
Xavier's mind had gone blank- or rather a loud buzzing sound filled it so thoroughly that no other thoughts surfaced.
“Yeah-" his dad was already taking him by the arm and getting him off the bed, “You know- With the hit and run- just good to be safe-"
Xavier had no words, only disbelief and confusion.
His dad steered him out of the house with a tight grip. The deputy trotted ahead a few steps and opened the back door of the squad car. Through the deadening hum it occurred to him that at least it was dark this time. No flashing lights this time unlike at Maddie’s vigil when the whole school saw him driven away in the back of the locked car.
When his dad closed the car door on him, he was finally snapped out of his loss for words “-Dad!” He said it hoarsely, but the men hadn’t opened their doors yet.
The two men got into their seats and Xavier started speak again, his voice firmer, “Dad- I’m fine- we don’t need to go back-“.
Xavier spine was cold. Why- couldn’t a check up with the doctor wait till the morning?
And why- more to the point, had he called his deputy?
“I just want to be careful Xavier- you had a serious accident- I just think we need to get you checked out again.“ his dad was speaking so… softly- like he was coaxing a timid animal.
After that no one spoke. The deputy turned on the radio for the last few minutes it took to get to the Split River hospital.
When they arrived neither man spoke but they had clearly agreed on a plan- because his dad got out and without looking back, walked into the hospital. As Xavier watched the glass door close behind him in confusion, a hand closed around his upper arm. He hadn’t even noticed the deputy opening the backseat door.
“Let’s go Xavier, we’ll meet him inside. He’s just letting them know we’re here.”
“Letting them know?” He echoed dumbly, they were expecting him?
The sheriff always got first priority treatment. When he had needed his appendix out in the sixth grade Xaiver had thought it was kind of cool. He had felt like a VIP. Now it didn't feel like a good thing.
Sure enough the deputy took him past the check in desk where everyone else had to sign in. A middle aged nurse greeted them but didn't stop them from continuing all the way to a ready ER room with just a bed and broken shades. He was told to sit and they would sort this all out in no time.
They closed the door and Xavier anxiously watched through the window as a doctor greeted his dad outside and they began to speak.
He couldn’t hear them but his dad was frowning and rubbing his forehead. The doctor glanced in at him and then back at his dad nodding his head. After what felt much too long the door to his room clicked open.
“Hi Xavier, I’m Dr. Dryer, how are you feeling?” The man posed gently.
Xavier paused for a moment, his mouth open before he spoke.
“I’m fine- I’m not sure why my dad thinks I need to be looked at again- everything’s alright- no pain really-“ He felt weirdly skittish, all he wanted to do was bolt.
The doctor smiled gently, “Your dad told me you had been having some unusual thoughts, ghosts? Thing like that?”
His pulse felt too loud in his ears, “Oh no- that was just- it wasn’t-"
Shit he was terrible at lying when it actually mattered.
“You know Xavier, what you’ve been through the last few weeks, its not unusual to develop coping mechanisms-“
“I’m coping- I mean im not that way- and what? Are dumb ghost stories illegal?" His attempt at stabilizing the imbalance was weak and he knew it.
“Xavier, it’s good you shared with your dad. It’s important to trust your parents. Your dad filled me in a little and from my perspective, there are two reasons why this might be happening. Either stress is making it hard to handle everything. Sometimes our brains come up with ways to make it a little easier, manage things- or there’s a head injury we didn’t catch before."
“No- I-"
The doctor continued, cutting him off, “-Regardless I think it’s best you stay with us a for a day or two so we can monitor you- just to make sure everything’s alright-“
A day or two? He didn’t have that kind of time, Maddie didn’t have that kind of time- “No- I have school. I have a bio test on tomorrow-“
“You don’t need to worry about that right now- right now our focus is on you and that’s alright.”
“No- really. I feel fine- I think-“
“Xavier, staying for a night at least is nonnegotiable, your Dad agrees. We all just want to make sure you’re alright.” His Dad was watching the conversation behind the window like he was observing an interrogation, face focused but flat.
Xavier had gotten off the bed and was looking beyond the doctor to the hallway where he saw the deputy still stationed and then two men in scrubs. He didn’t think he could outrun Deputy Williams. It was alright though- he could sneak out later.
“This is nothing to be embarrassed about- no one at school needs to know. Ted and Jared will escort you over there and you can get settled in.”
“Over where? I can’t stay here?” His voice was rising with panic. He had stayed in the ER before, no need to go anywhere else.
“The ER needs the bed space, but there’s a spot in behavioral health. They’re all ready for you.”
Behavioral health- like psychiatric? Xavier looked at the sleepy emergency department, he saw plenty of beds. It was practically empty.
The men were in the room then, as if summoned by sense. Xavier was backing into the corner.
“No- seriously I don’t need this- it was just a misunderstanding-" he wilted when the men took his arms. He didn't resist and when they started guiding him out of the room.
“Don’t worry Xavier, it will be a nice break, a few days without homework-“ the doctor smiled and nodded to the men.
His Dad suddenly wasn’t there when they led him out of the ER, disappeared to who knows where. Panic constricted Xavier’s throat as they stood in a group of three in the elevator.
”My sister was in a car accident last year, she has the worst anxiety now-“ The man had let go of his arm once the elevator doors closed.
Xavier broke out of his consuming fear for a second confused, then a few beats too late he nodded his head in understanding to be polite, he still didn’t understand.
“Anyway, it’s good you’ll get this sorted out. It will probably only be 48 hours.”
Xavier couldn’t disguise his immediate surprise, ”Forty eight hours?!”
“Enjoy some pudding cups, watch some cartoons, get to skip school, not too bad.”
The other man chuckled a little. Xavier did his best to awkwardly acknowledge the comment in another nod as he tried to regain his external composure. He had no idea how to respond while internally panicking.
Oh god, he had to tell Simon. He needed to text him.
The elevator doors opened and there was a hand on his back gently nudging him forward as he reached into his jeans.
But suddenly there was a hand on his hand and his phone was gone. Xavier looked up in confusion which quickly hardened into annoyance.
“Sorry bud, once you enter this wing the doctor has to approve devices.”
”No- give it back-“ He swatted his arm out to get it back back the orderly was too quick, keeping it out of his grasp.
The other man reached for his arm and held it again. A warning?
Xavier realized he needed to bargain, “I’m sorry- I just need to text my friend. Thats it and then I’ll hand it over.”
“No can do kid, rules are rules,” His tone wasn’t unkind, “- Oh Hey Nancy, this is Xavier Baxter, coming up from the ED.”
Xavier’s eyes darted over to a woman in pink scrubs with a cheery smile on her face, “Hi Xavier, we were expecting you.”
Again a chill traveled down his spine.
”I hear Todd was explaining the phone rule. It’s standard procedure in the first few days, if things go well we can talk about phone privileges after the first 48 hours.”
Xavier didn’t know what to say to this pink perky woman. He wanted to argue but realized being rude to a lady wouldn't help his current predicament.
”But right now its late and everyone is in bed. We will do a quick intake tonight, get you settled in and then in the morning the doctor will be by to see you."
”Dr. Dryer?”
She looked back at him pausing for a moment before saying, “Oh- no. Dr. Kent or Dr. Graham.”
In a matter of minutes Xavier had no shoelaces or belt and was in a plain room with a bizarre block like mattress on the floor and feeling dazed and alone.
How had this happened?
***
Xavier didn’t sleep like they told him to. Not really. Mostly he paced. His head did hurt now. Minutes turned into exceedingly slow hours that were only occasionally punctured but a cough or semi conscious cries in neighboring rooms which freaked him out even more.
He didn't have much of a plan. All he knew was that he needed to get ahold of Simon, Claire, or hell even, Nicole.
He knew this was all a big misunderstanding but the only ones that did understand needed him. He couldn’t just disappear.
He didn’t know what hour it was when the lights in his spartan room clicked on but had felt like the longest night of his life. He stood immediately as his door clicked open.
”Xavier, good morning,”
It was weird how everyone was saying his name like they knew him, like they were familiar friends.
The man in front of him was about 55, grey hair and a cardigan that bunched awkwardly from too many times in the wash cycle.
”Im Dr. Kent. I am here to have a chat with you and see how things are going.”
”I’m not supposed to be here.”
He had rehearsed it all night long in the synthetic light glow: I’m not supposed to be here, im not supposed to be here, im not suppposed to be here.
“Okay, well I am here to help sort everything out. Take a seat and we can get to the bottom of this together.”
Xavier complied and sat back onto the mattress without looking back at it. He was all too familiar with the small room after the last few long hours.
“Xavier, do you know what brought you here then?”
“It was a misunderstanding, I had an accident recently- got hit by a car. I guess my dads worried about my head but this-“ he used his hands to gesture to the room, “-is crazy.”
”Oh yes, I read about the hit and run, that sounded pretty scary.”
”I’m okay.” He responded defensively and straightened his shirt, “My head's alright and I don’t need to be here.”
”Ah, well, now that you are here, we will have you for 48 hours regardless. It’s not a big deal, just a valuable opportunity to make sure everything is alright.”
"I’m not staying for 48 hours, I am not staying for another hour. I need my phone back.”
”They probably explained the phone procedure to you last night, no phones for the first 48.”
”You can’t keep me from contacting anyone. I am not staying here, my friends-“ He stumbled and backtracked, “-I need to talk to a lawyer or something. I am fine. What do I need to say to show I am definitely not crazy-“
The doctor nodded gently and his pleasant expression remained, “Xavier, I’ll explain the hold a little better to you- you being here isn’t optional, your dad expressed serious concern for you and it was enough for a 51-50 hold. This means that legally you have to be observed for the forty-eight hour period, no exceptions.”
Xavier opened his mouth, ready to argue with the man but the doctor continued, “This might feel overwhelming but I promise it is because everyone in your life cares about you and wants to keep you safe.”
Xavier’s eyebrows furrowed, being here was not safe, not for him, not for Maddie, Claire, Simon or Nicole. Hell maybe the whole school was in trouble? He didn’t fucking know.
”Now I wanna talk about what’s been going on with you- I have some notes here on a conversation you had with your dad- it was last night right?”
Xavier’s face flushed in shame, he was honest, really truly honest with his dad and now his dad was telling complete strangers he was crazy.
He wasn’t, he knew it, but it felt like his dad had betrayed him. Well- He did.
”You mentioned to him that you were seeing things other people aren’t- and that you were worried about your friend, Maddie? That someone had taken her body- a ghost?”
God, it sounded so off-the-deep-end coming from this bland man holding a clip board.
His only logical defense was to deny, deny, deny, "No- no- I didn’t say that-“
”You know, I think my house has ghosts.” Dr. Hunt smiled.
Xavier blinked, heart leaping for a fraction of a second.
"In our house- its old you know, and my wife is always swearing she hears footsteps in the attic even when no one else is home, doors unlatched when she knew left them closed- you know. Spooky, I think some spirits from old owners.”
His chest tightened, the man was sharing a ghost story you tell during a dinner party, fun, harmless, a little in jest.
Xavier shook his head, “I don’t- I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“Xavier, you aren’t in trouble- what you told your dad, it’s not a bad thing. Sometimes our brains do things we don’t fully understand, it doesn’t mean its something to be ashamed of.”
Anger sparked in Xavier, this man- using his name like he knew him- and acting like Xavier was confused and helpless and worst of all- insane.
”No. I told you- how many times do I have to tell you all?! I'm not hearing voices, I'm not seeing things- this was a mistake!”
Suddenly there was another man in the room- big and in scrubs. Xavier had stood up without realizing and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.
Dr. Kent had stepped back a step and the new guy had his head slightly cocked to the side, watching him.
"Xavier, buddy, it’s alright- let’s bring this down a notch- do you want to sit back down?” God. The guy was an orderly. Because they needed those guys in places like this.
Again Xavier’s face burned, he was just trying to defend himself. He was exhausted and frustrated, didn’t they get that?
But self conscious, he sat down again.
"That’s good- I’m going to say we put this conversation on pause for a bit- give you some more time to settle. Dana will come by in a few minutes with breakfast.”
Dr. Kent filed out and then the orderly firmly closed the door with a click.
Xavier’s head was spinning. He thought it would be simple to talk to a doctor and sort it out, go back to school by lunch and pretend this never happened.
…. But it was like they weren’t even listening to him… Only what his dad had said.
His dad, the sheriff, measured, respected… of course they were going to take his word over his son’s.
The door clicked again, then open, “Hey hun, I brought breakfast!” Another cheery lady, this time Tom and Jerry scrubs.
She placed the tray on his sheet-less mattress. His eyes slid quickly over it and nearly back to her but then reversed.
There was a little paper pot resting in between the carton of orange juice and something that was probably supposed to be eggs.
”What’s that?” His voice came out rough and lower than he meant.
”The doctor thought you could use a little help settling in- getting some rest. You didn’t sleep at all last night!”
They had watched him? He looked up at the corners of the room, looking for cameras he had missed.
"Uh- no thanks, I don’t need anything-"
"Doctors orders, Xavier, I need to see you take them.”
"What?” he responded blankly.
“The doctor prescribed them because they might help you. Now you need to take the medication or we will have to give it to you another way. But take it from me- this-“ she gestured at the paper pot, “Is much better.”
His throat felt like it was full of glass, “So you're drugging me against my will then?”
“It is just a light sedative, nothing major.”
He took the cup, inside it was two tiny white pills. Then holding back tears of shame he swallowed.
”That’s the spirit. Well done Xavier. Now you’ll have your breakfast in your room and after that someone will be back to take you into the common room.”
He had stopped looking at her. She left, the door clicked closed.
It didn’t take long for whatever he had swallowed to being working, at first he hoped it was in his head. The louder tinny noise like his ears were ringing, his limbs felt heavy and clumsy and his heart felt loud and slow.
He didn’t even fully recognize when someone came back into the room, they said something to him but he didn’t understand. Hands guided him up and out of the room, then settled him in to a thick vinyl covered arm chair. He couldn’t track what was happening- morning sun, a tv going, conversations. He vaguely knew he was trying to cling to the present but also too far away. It was a lost cause.
At some point someone must’ve moved him again because he woke up back in the room they had given him. It took him awhile to get his bearings, but once he did, he got up to test the door. Locked.
The locked door invited a dark pitted feeling in his stomach. They thought he was crazy… did they think he was crazy and dangerous? It sure seemed like it. Why else would they drug him and lock him in? Everyone knew about Maddie and everyone liked to have someone to blame.
He took the drugs earlier because he thought it would show he was reasonable… cooperative. But it was some kind of cruel joke to give him so much he basically passed out. He did not like this doctor. Not at all.
He needed his dad to come back, he could try to talk to him again. After all the doctors would listen to his dad, all he had to do was convince him.
He banged on the door and yelled out a hey, hoping someone would come.
About 30 seconds later a woman with a man, nurse and orderly showed up. The woman was holding another paper pot.
He stepped away from the door so they could open it. He stumbled, the drug they forced on him was still in his system.
”Ss- I need-“ Xavier paused for a moment confused, he was slurring his words. He didn’t understand why he would when he thought he was thinking clearly.
”Honey - don’t worry, that's the diazepam, that’ll wear off soon. Did you get a good nap?”
Xavier’s brows furrowed and he concentrated on each syllable to ensure his tongue followed his commands, “I- I need to talk to my-dad.”
The nurse’s smile didn’t waver, “In the chart it says he is planning on visiting you tomorrow, he wanted to give you today to adjust.”
”What time issit?”
”Six pm, you slept completely through lunch!”
”So he’ll come in the morning to take m’home?”
"The decision of what you do will be made by the doctor tomorrow, but your dad said he will come visit regardless.”
"Regardless?”
The nurse exchanged a glance with the orderly, “Let’s not worry about that yet. How about dinner hm? Then the doctor wants another chat when you’re ready.”
Themes: adolescent psychiatric hospital, School Spirits, escape attempt, man handling, desperation
Masterlist
June 9, 2026
-
He hadn’t planned it. At least not beyond the single thought of knowing he needed to get out of there.
The door to the grounds hadn’t latched right after a delivery. He’d just been in the hall when he noticed the linen delivery man who had clearly come and gone from this ward for years. Casual and careless.
Xavier didn’t take the time to weigh options or consider consequences. He just began walking. Then running. Out past the smell of bleach and waxed tile and into the open air, socked feet pounding against cold, damp pavement.
He didn’t know where the hospital was- not really, only that it was remote. Without really giving it thought he knew he would just flee into the woods until he found something. All he really needed was a phone to call Simon, Claire, or Nicole… any of them would work. They could- they would help.
No yells or commotion came after him as he sprinted. There was a chain link fence, about 5 feet tall, he scaled it with the speed of adrenaline. Then he didn’t stop running.
He thought about varying his path as he stumbled through the undergrowth but elected to continue straight- that would create more distance between him and whoever they sent after him. Those people didn’t have dogs did they? He wouldn’t put it past them.
The woods were cold and wet and full of shadows by the time he slowed and crumbled down at the base of a large tree. He couldn’t keep going at the pace he had kept for the last 30 minutes since he had stepped outside.
He thought he might’ve heard someone calling his name but after extended listening he hoped he was only being paranoid because as much as he strained he heard nothing after that.
His poly-cotton scrubs were damp with perspiration and dotted with spots of blood where thorns and sticks had caught him. His feet were far worse off with only the hospital socks between them and the forest floor.
He would sit and catch his breath for only a few minutes before he’d keep going. In the back of his mind he was aware that exposure was a real threat especially in contrast with the single layer of cotton he was wearing.
The sound of twigs breaking in a sharp crack stopped his heart for a moment. His first thought was it would be a deer. Guards would be much louder, lumbering, he tried to reason as his eyes darted around the dimming forest.
Fear pierced his chest as he registered a person about 15 yards from him.
Then he realized who it was-
It was his dad. He’d recognize the sheriff’s hat and those sloped shoulders anywhere.
At first, Xavier felt relief—real, aching relief.
A beat of silence passed between them, thick with a strange ache. His father looked tired—his hair disheveled, but his clothes were too clean for the forest. He took a few slow steps forward, hands visible.
“Xavier,” he said, quiet. “There you are.”
And for a fleeting moment, something bloomed in Xavier’s chest. His throat tightened. His fingers twitched. His dad had come. Himself. Not staff. Not other officers. Maybe—
-Maybe if he asked the right way. If he explained it carefully. If he was calm. Maybe this was the way back. Maybe his dad could see he wasn’t dangerous, he wasn't sick. Maybe he could see how badly Xavier needed his help- maybe- just maybe he could help.
Xavier rose slowly, unsteady. “Dad…” His voice cracked. “I’m okay. I promise. I am sorry- I just- I can’t stay there- I can’t.”
His father’s face didn’t shift from his guarded expression.
A ripple of movement behind the trees made Xavier’s stomach pit.
Two deputies emerged from the woods. Quiet. Measured. Slowly pacing so as not to spook their target.
Xavier’s eyes darted between them. “Dad?” he said again, his voice raw, but the man’s mouth was a tight line.
One of them held a radio. They circled to move into place behind Xavier.
He blinked.
Oh.
He wasn’t found—he was located. Tracked. Only to be brought back in.
And his father wasn’t here to save him. He was just the one who could catch him.
The hope that had flared so briefly snuffed out.
Xavier flinched but did not resist as one of the deputies took him gently by the arm, the other hovering a foot or two away. He stood mutely as his dad placed his too large jacket over his shoulders. He said something about it being cold.
He didn’t cry. He didn’t beg. He went stiff and quietly, allowing them to walk him out of the woods with a deputy’s hand gripping his arm and to a road where the police cruisers were parked. The other deputy used his radio, “Yep- we found him. Positive.”
No one else spoke.
They put him in the back of his dad’s cruiser, lock clicking on the door. He stared mutely through the windshield at the deputy’s car leading the drive back. Mud caking his ankles, socks torn and dyed red in places. His father rode in silence in the cruiser’s passenger seat, back rigid, not once looking back, saying nothing.
The building came into view like a fortress. Gated windows, locked rooms, and staff at every corner, clipboards in hand and ready for his return he knew.
Xavier felt his pulse quicken against his will.
He stayed completely still in his seat, even as the deputy opened the door and motioned for him to come out.
And even as the second came around and gently touched his arm, “Come on, Xavier. It’s okay.”
“No,” he said quietly, almost too low to be heard.
The deputy hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the sheriff for a fraction of a second. “It’s okay, Xavier. Just up the steps.” This deputy had used to play paperclip basketball with him at the station when Xavier was younger.
Xavier could feel his body locking up. “No,” he said louder. “No, I am not going back- please-”
Neither replied to this. One nodded to the other and then he was being dragged out with a strong grip to his upper arm.
His dads jacket slipped off his shoulders to the ground.
An orderly stepped outside followed by others. “We can take it from here. Thank you, officers.”
Like a stray dog being returned.
“Please don’t make me go-” Xavier’s voice broke. He twisted and weakly tried to pull away, his injured stockinged feet dragging on the pavement trying to get a purchase- any kind of leverage.
It took both deputies full effort now to hold him between them.
He caught his father’s eyes- standing by the car, hands clenched at his sides, watching, silent.
“Dad! I’ll be good- I’ll be good, I promise- just don’t make me go back- I can’t stay there-” Xavier shouted, a pitiful last effort, even by his standards. His voice was rough and ragged with desperation.
But his father didn’t move.
Didn’t come forward.
Didn’t order them away.
Didn’t so much as say a word.
The familiar grips of orderlies were taking his upper arms, bending him forward and guiding him up the stairs and through the door.
Xavier craned his head again and caught the distant, sunken look of a man who had delivered his own son to strangers and now watched them drag him away like a convict.
*
Inside was a team of people waiting for him. He was no longer struggling. Immediately there was a paper pot with two little pills being brought to his face. He swallowed them and the sip of water in the accompanying pot without hesitation, for once not caring what they were.
“Attaboy, just something to bring you down a little. Now why don’t we clean you up?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at the nurse speaking. He wasn’t listening. His mouth was still too dry. His legs moved out of instinct, half-dragged, half-guided, his thoughts a blur of bereavement and quiet horror.
His father had watched as they dragged him away begging. Just watched.
He was being led back down the corridors before his dazed mind could consider what might be in store for him now.
He wasn’t taken back to the ward—no, straight to Observation.
They stripped him of everything.
He stayed still as his muddy, blood-spotted, and tattered scrubs were taken off him and put straight into the waste bin. After a lukewarm and antiseptic soap shower by the nurses, he was handed a gown. Then not even the usual tied fabric one—just paper. Thin. Crinkling with every movement. The kind reserved for kids on suicide watch.
A few months ago, a shower with two adult women could only be imagined as a video he’d watch on incognito mode. The Xavier a few months ago never could’ve guessed this turn of unfortunate events.
Staff members hovered at every turn, holding clipboards, radios. No one said he was being punished but he knew.
There were no more requests, no soft nudges to comply.
Now there were just hands guiding, turning and moving him.
They spoke about him like he wasn’t there… which was mostly true. and when they did speak to him, it was clipped and slow and careful. Like they were addressing a five-year-old.
-We’re going to sit down now.
-You’re safe, but you made a dangerous choice, and we need to help you from doing it again.
They led him to a Quiet Room he hadn’t been in before—bare mattress on the floor, camera high in the corner, large one way mirror on one wall. The orderlies lowered his lightly sedated pliable form down to the matted floor while a nurse reviewed the protocol.
“You’re here so we can keep you safe,” she said both sweetly and firmly, “You made a scary choice today, Xavier. You ran away. And sometimes when kids run away, it means they’re not making safe choices for their bodies or their minds.”
He stared at her, eyes half lidded. She smiled back.
“You’re not in trouble,” she added, too brightly. “But you’re going to have some restrictions for a while until we settle back down. Now will you let me give you a little medicine to help you sleep? You need rest after your big day.”
Xavier still stared blankly at her. An orderly crouched down to shift his body and pull his gown up his hip exposing pink scrubbed skin. The orderly unnecessarily held him in place so the nurse could administer the sedative. He didn’t resist. She pulled the gown back down and gave him a little pat, “Now that wasn’t hard at all, well done.”
The group then filed out while Xavier mutely watched them close the door and the quick acting injection settled over him. He blinked slowly and let it take him over.
This was the consequence.
Sick people needed boundaries. Sick people needed those who know better to help them understand these.
*
He laid on the thin mat hours later, arms tucked tight to his chest, staring at the corner of the ceiling where the camera methodically blinked red. The lights never fully dimmed here. They called it “low-stimulation lighting,”.
Every month at least I have a night where I get stuck thinking about Bucky at a very specific time. - after he and Steve fight on the helicarrier. Bucky gets away just barely, like a wounded and terrified feral dog.
But somehow he heals. He always heals. He finds an abandoned place to live. He starts to just exist. He’s alone but there’s a fox that lives in the field by the little abandoned house he’s adopted. Things start to grow as spring and then summer warms the mornings.
After first he starved himself but eventually he begins to dig up roots and eat dandelion greens. To his surprise the tree nearby bears plums. He keeps existing. He wonders if Hydra really did forget him. He doesn’t think that’s possible but he’s still here and not at the bottom of a dark hole.
The fox and he ocassioanly observe each other. The nights are warm now too. He no longer chatters his teeth while he lays on the ground at night.
But it doesn’t last- he should’ve known- he did know- they would never let him stay gone. He knew they would find him.
But he had gotten soft. He didn’t know what had happened until the the needled dart had already pierced the skin of his neck. He pulled it out but it was too late.
He fell, very slowly it seemed, and hard. His vision blurred as he registered men in black tactical gear approach, their boots at his eye level. He could’ve sworn he could see the fox watching from the tall grass.
He vaguely felt restraints being fastened around his powerless limbs. Then a collar clicking around his neck. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it would shock him if he tested it. Pierce had liked that behavioral tool.
Then there was another needle and eyelids grew too heavy to hold open. He was out like a switch.
-
When he woke, he smelled vague damp, the kind they tried to scrub out with institutional bleach.
The polished concrete floor under him was very cold against his bare skin. They had taken his clothes.
He knew they would start the reconditioning now, maybe if he was vicious enough they would wipe him quickly, not bother with all of the punishment if it was too unwieldy to teach a lesson. But he knew that was a foolish hope and he also knew he was too tired.
He was so tired.
So when the door eventually opened to his cell he only curled into himself tighter, bracing for the inevitable onslaught.
“Mr. Barnes. It’s time for your meds.”
He stayed as he was, hoping to endure their plans with any semblance of sanity. Because they would try to take that. They had taken it many times before.
“Mr. Barnes. We can give it intramuscularly if you don’t want to swallow it.”
He didn’t know a Mr. Barnes and he knew there were no choices so he stayed curled tight. He felt the metal collar. If he moved without direction while personnel was in the room they’d probably shock him.
Someone sighed. He could tell there were a lot of them at least three. Rubber shoes and tactical boots. He smelled the oil and gunpowder of regularly cleaned guns.
Then there was a syringe in his hip, “he’s been like his for awhile, uncommunicative, so the doctors just want to keep calm.” A voice said.
Awhile? He had only just woken up.
The people left. He drifted away. Some part of him knew it was odd for them sedate him, unless it was for transfer.
But he woke up in the same place. Still cold, still bare, thoughts blurring from what they had put in him. He dragged himself to the corner. There was a tray of food by the door he saw. He made no attempt to get it.
This time when the men came in he was facing them, barely propped up against the wall. He still shrunk back, he was afraid.
It was two men in medical uniforms and two in black tactical suits holding their guns tight.
“Ok Jimmy, you gonna take them this time?” One of the men held out a white paper cup.
The solider didn’t understand why the lab tech was asking him like it was a question. They man took one careful step forward, the soldier opened his mouth to accept the medicine. Lab techs were usually not cruel. They scrubbed the blood out from under his nails after missions. They hooked him up to drips that dulled the searing pain of bullet holes if he had been good. They would shock him though if he did not comply with the tech. Zola would be very angry with him.
The man looked surprise for a brief moment before stepping closer to tip the assorted capsules into his mouth. His throat was dry but he swallowed.
“Good boy,” the tech backed away, “you also need to eat James,”
The soldier didn’t tell him he wasn’t James. He could not contradict medical techs or personnel. Instead he just looked at their feet. Would they drag him out now for water boarding? No that wouldn’t be horrific enough, they had better tools up their sleeves.
“Didn’t they say he’s kind of brain dead or something?” One of the guards asked.
“They think it’s conditioning, but they don’t really know- most of zolas notes on what he did to him were destroyed.”
-
Later he woke up and there was a folded square of fabric by the door. He only looked at it.
After about an hour there was a crackle and buzz and then a voice over speakerphone, “Mr. Barnes. Please put the gown on. It is for you.”
He just stared at it.
Another hour passed and then men came in. One picked it up and they put it on him themselves. He stayed still as he always did while techs washed him or dressed him. The guards looked very nervous. He had killed a few guards in the 90s he thinks. He remembers a lot of blood and Pierce smirking.
They left him and a few minutes later the door opened again. It was a blonde man. He was familiar. His first thought was 70s… pierce? Then he remembered the helicarrier. He shrunk back. This man meant pain. He meant getting wiped.
“Buck.” The man was in civilian clothing. He looked in pain also.
The solider knew they would surely hurt him after this. He tried to shift to the corner, his eyes widened, feeling fear and memories of profound pain.
parasocial tumblr bestie went missing again🚬 we miss you queen
Haha I’ve gotta stop doing this !!! I have too much I want to do lately. Mostly it’s being out in my garden… but also lots of work and lots of rereading old things. I DID just watch “heel” (or “Good Boy”) 2025. LOVED IT
Good morning! Harris thinks they’re a bit barbaric but oversaw a number in his earlier days and still considers them for patients for time to time. Sometimes using the full tool chest is necessary for particular patients…. Particularly if he knows they’ll never be of use to anyone anyway, might as well make them easier to manage.
But he’d never consider it for Alfie. Alfie is challenging, sure, but a lobotomy is like taking a hammer to his head- no precision, no skill as a clinician. It’s the lazy route. And he’d never take that with his favorite patient.
An alternative view to test subject hating being knocked out for surgery:
He hadn’t been given breakfast at the regular time. With a twinge in his chest it reminded him of his dog, she had an excellent internal clock. And so did he now it seemed. Her intrinsic internal clock had been impressive, he knew his was just a pitiful byproduct of captivity.
And he knew he should dread what that meant… getting strapped down to a table, rolled in to an operating room, a man putting a mask over his face and saying “Shhh.. it’s alright,” with a flat intonation.
But in truth he was glad when they withheld his breakfast. He didn’t mind what it meant- because he didn’t mind the constricting restraints… or no one in the operating room looking in his direction or going to sleep not knowing which part of him would be irreparably altered when he woke.
He honestly didn’t mind any of these things now.
… because Test Subject knew with surgery came complete and total sleep.
When the anaesthetic cocktail of the day was held over his face, he knew that for at least a couple of hours he would not have nightmares, or waking thoughts that were worse.
And if he was lucky enough, hopefully it would be a radical enough procedure that he would be sedated and drugged with pain killers for a few days.
He knew being conscious made no difference, control was an illusion. So he’d rather not be present when they stripped away what little he had left.
Not like it’s gonna fix me so I don’t think murder is cool anymore or anything like that. It’s more complicated. But also it’s just making me emotionally exhausted all the time which makes writing ANYTHING hard.
I walked around lol day today with the distinct certainty that I had been responsible for someone’s death and that it was something I didn’t want to think about. It wasn’t until now that I realized, 1. I’m foggy from my meds. And 2. I definitely had a dream where something like that happened and that’s why it felt like a memory.
It’s now CLEAR TO ME how victims can be convinced they did something they didn’t, especially if low level drugged and fed that info over and over again.
After all I let my brain pin murder on me in one day and it didn’t even have any motives!!
