Under the influence of the swell, the waves crashed against the rocks at the base of the cliff. On February 17th, in the middle of the afternoon, clouds gently brushed the sky. Sunlight flooded through the hospital windows, creating a summery aura in the room. The light made the floorboards come alive, shimmering every speck of dust floating in the air. Mateo, wrapped in his sheets, seemed out of place there. The walls were too white. Too white. He amused himself by juggling between the floor and the ceiling, as if searching for cracks in what seemed to him a damn rat hole. Even the steady beats of the heart monitor seemed to blend with the "silent" symphony of the building. In a place like this, it wasn't just the mere stay that drove one mad, but often the conditions that came with it... A pure, sarcastic joy.
Lost in his thoughts, the young man was snapped out of his reverie when the iron door squeaked by his bed. A uniformed man entered. An antiseptic smell trailed behind him, mixed with a hint of disinfectant. Without warning, the man, the nurse, approached and yanked away his sheets, causing the fabric to echo through the room. Mateo, taken aback, sat up.
— But damn, what's your problem? he retorted defensively.
— Don't we say hello anymore, Mateo? asked the nurse, smiling.
— I don't have to greet you! And I think I asked my question first.
— I see. Only animals deserve greetings anyway. He chuckled, the smile still glued to his lips. "I offer you a hello. And for your question, I was asked to do it."
— "Asked"? I don't know anyone named "asked." Who is it? Your father? Your mother? Is that what they call you in your village? Mateo shot back, grabbing a corner of the sheet and pulling hard. His fingers trembled.
— Stop! You'll hurt yourself! warned the nurse, trying to pry the fabric from his hands. Just stay calm and you'll find out.
The friction of the fabric between Mateo's fingers mingled with the muffled sounds of the hospital, where hurried footsteps echoed on the floor. Indistinct murmurs from medical staff and the gentle hum of machines formed a sonic backdrop, creating a constant background noise to the existence of this place.
In that moment, Mateo felt a wave of frustration wash over him. His mind was a maze of tumultuous thoughts, and he couldn't help but recall the reasons that had brought him here. He pulled at the fabric even harder, coming to a snap decision.
— I AM CALM! It's you who won't leave me alone!
Annoyed, the nurse firmly grabbed Mateo's arm, who responded by flipping him off with his left hand. Deep down, Jack almost hoped a slap would snap him back to reality, but hospital rules forbade violence against patients. The orderly settled for finally ripping away the damn fabric. He gripped Mateo's arm once more before guiding him to the wheelchair waiting at the entrance. Determined not to let him escape, he swiftly strapped Mateo securely into the seat.
Mateo, strapped in, allowed himself to be wheeled through the crooked corridors of this place. His feet, clad in white shoes, shuffled lightly on the cold floor, marked by worn tiles. Every intersection felt like a prison junction, with walls seeming to elongate around him like shifting shadows. Despite the apparent calm, murmurs and echoes of erratic footsteps escaped from some double-locked doors. At one junction, the two men entered an elevator to ascend.
The metallic creaking and slight swaying of the lift created an unsettling atmosphere. One day, some idiot had decided it would be wonderful to place forty rooms underground on the edge of a cliff. Artistic reasons. Mateo had always found it idiotic. It made their crap feel claustrophobic. But this time, despite being used to it, the sensation of claustrophobia intensified in his mind and veins.
Tension thickened, much like the clouds that darkened the sky above the hospital.
Hopeshire, this psychiatric asylum where the most desperate cases ended up locked away, resembled a sinister spider's web. The residents weren't rats in burrows but tangled souls, desperately seeking an escape from this labyrinth. It was here that Mateo was forced to serve his sentence.
When you have that choice, which wasn't his case, between prison and this sinister place, it was like picking between two evils. He understood his predicament, but for others, feigning madness was never a wise decision.
Exiting the elevator, the nurse resumed wheeling him through the corridors. The flickering fluorescent lights cast strange shadows on the walls. Finally, they halted at a door made of black oak. Mateo smiled faintly at the sight of its color, which brought him a sense of warmth. White, he thought, was exhausting. The person pushing him couldn't deny it.
With a brisk motion, Jack opened the door to reveal a room with multiple bay windows. He wheeled the young man inside where two people were talking. His therapist, younger compared to the others... beautiful, yet peculiar, and across from her, a man with a distant expression.
— Basically, that's all you'll need to do with him... explained Miss Richards, looking up at Mateo with a warmly lit smile on her face that wasn't enough to be made-up. Look, who's talking!
In Dr. Richards' spacious office, Yaser, the man in a linen jacket, turned around and fixed his gaze on the young man. His penetrating hazel eyes met those of Mateo, who was securely strapped to a wheelchair. The room, bathed in bright light, seemed imbued with impersonal warmth, accentuated by walls painted in a nearly faded dull green.
Suddenly, the shrill cry of a distant alarm shattered the already tense silence, sending shivers down everyone's spine.
His heart clenched, and Yaser, middle-aged... with graying temples, left his chair and lunged towards the young man. This time, Mateo tensed up on the spot. Already perceiving very little, there was no way he would let people or things start touching him any old way.
— Damn it, don't touch me!! What's wrong with you all today? he shouted, desperately trying to free himself from the man's grasp.
The man straightened up, scrutinizing his son closely. It was the first time he had pushed him away so firmly. In between thoughts, he cupped Mateo's face, his fingers tracing the contours of his gaunt skin.
— But... he asked, saddened. Don't you recognize me?
— I'm not a mind reader and my eyesight's crap. Come closer or ask those nutjobs over there to fetch my glasses, he yelled. I can't know everyone in this room, the brunet retorted defensively. And on top of that, sir, you don't just go throwing yourself at people like that!
— Harun, have you forgotten me? Even the sound of my voice... you really don't remember me?
— Is this what you wanted me to see? Mateo asked the nurse. Is this what that "on" asked you to do? Make me guess.
The man stepped back, lost. He too didn't understand why his own son couldn't recognize him. It had been over 8 years since they had seen each other regularly, for various reasons or lack of time... But in Yaser's mind, you couldn't easily forget a family member like that. What a one-sided logic! He turned sharply towards the doctor, whose gaze behind round glasses betrayed a hint of nervousness.
— Did you drug him or something? the confused man asked, his forehead creased with incomprehension.
— He took his medication this morning, it's just a side effect, explained Miss Richards, smiling, though there was a hint of mockery in her eyes. He'll come around in the melee.
— It's eleven o'clock! Yaser affirmed, his brows furrowing further. Do your effects last all day or what? Am I supposed to take him home like this?
— Yaser, he's perfectly fine. If you don't like seeing him like this, just ask and we can calm him down right away, the psychologist offered in a soothing tone, gesturing with her hand to alleviate his concerns.
Yaser slowly turned to his son, approaching cautiously. His fingers undid the straps holding Mateo in his seat. Mateo watched the scene with growing perplexity.
— No need to sedate him, Yaser said as he removed the belts. He's my son, after all. Don't forget to send me the list of poisons you've given him. He straightened up, locking his scrutinizing gaze with the doctor's. I'd like to understand what drives you to put your patients in such a state.
— Well... Excuse me for doing my job. With everything he already has to take, do you really think I enjoy adding this? the psychologist retorted with a laugh. Your son is quite adept at violence. But again, excuse me for reminding you that it's one of the reasons that brought him here.
Yaser whirled around abruptly, glaring daggers at the damn woman. They knew each other well. She had been a resident in the hospital where he now worked for a few years and had been a "very" good friend of his daughter. One became a neurologist and the other a psychiatrist. They had all lost touch. But when his son's sentence was pronounced, he had been reassured to know that one of his former friends would be taking care of Mateo. But how could he still feel reassured by such a person?
— Stay out of this, Yaser concluded, anger simmering within him.
— What you're asking is very difficult, considering I'm his assigned psychiatrist, she declared, sporting an enigmatic smile.
— That doesn't mean that...
— Yaser, we're not going to discuss this all day. She picked up a pen and started playing with it, her eyes fixed on him. I have the authority to delay his discharge today if I think, because of you, he's not ready at all. If he's shown signs of possible health disruption minutes before his release... Your threats certainly won't stop me. So stop.
In the room with its dull green walls, where the pervasive light through the bay windows exposed every trace of anxiety on each face, Mateo, silently observing all this time, suddenly straightened up. His footsteps echoed on the tiled floor like an irregular pulse in the room. He clung to his father and opened his mouth.
— I'm trying to understand... You talk too much and way too fast! he scanned the room. It's hard to keep up with you. Basically, you're my father. You came to get me out of here. So why are you wasting your breath with Miss Hailey instead of getting me out of here?
— Sit back down, Mateo! ordered the nurse.
— As for you, stay out of this! he said, pointing at the unfortunate man; then a smile spread across his face. He looked back at his father. Did you see that? I said just like you... Stay out of this... Stay out of this... he sang.
An enigmatic smile formed on his face, and his voice, with that strange song, echoed coldly through the corridors. The sudden change in Mateo's behavior left everyone perplexed... or at least just Yaser.
Yaser turned away and looked at his friend.
— He may have always been violent, but he wasn't crazy...
— I certainly didn't make him crazy, and I didn't say he was crazy, asserted the doctor. And besides, if you want to blame someone or something, remember that before me, there was the meth... the doctor murmured with a smile.
The rhythm of the words, like a heartbeat, punctuated the atmosphere. Tension built, crescendo, and every spoken or whispered word resonated in the room.
— Stop! Just stop for two seconds. Yaser cut in sharply. Anyway, I suppose I should thank you, but I'm afraid I'm not quite sure why anymore.
A silence fell. Mateo, who had stopped singing, stared at his father. Dr. Hailey Richards opened her mouth and spoke.
— To allow you to take him back today, still alive and well, she slumped into her chair, smiling. The click of the pen against the desk added an echo to her announcement.
— Yeah, alive and well... Yaser turned his back, took his son's hand, and calmly walked towards the door.
— Don't forget to bring him back from time to time, the doctor continued. It's like probation for now. He has to provide evidence, and I have to be accountable. Her smile faded. I'll send you my schedule to arrange his next appointments here or elsewhere.
Yaser simply gave her a thumbs-up and a gesture of irreverence before leaving the room. The door closed behind them with a slight creak. The doctor's reaction oscillated between exasperation and a resigned sigh.
Mateo had belongings here, but Yaser was in no hurry to take them home. They passed through the massive door of Hopeshire as peacefully as possible, an imposing structure of ancient oak with intricate carvings that creaked slightly as it opened. The air was fragrant with a sweet scent of honeysuckle, adding a note of serenity to the moment. They headed towards his car parked outside. He helped his son into the back seat and fastened his seatbelt. In his state, it was better to use the car's child safety device, but his childish nature persisted.
Such a beautiful place marred by human hands! Yaser thought before starting the car with a quick turn of the key. As they drove away, the walls of Hopeshire disappeared behind a cloud of dust. Yaser glanced briefly in the rearview mirror at his son. The smile was gone from Mateo's face.