Pairing: W/other
Rating: NC-17, Warning! Non-consensual sex.
Spoilers: ‘Lover’s Walk’, ‘Graduation Day’
Summary: Willow is institutionalized in the mental hospital from hell.
Disclaimer: The Buffyverse belongs to Joss, he is Zeus and I am merely a lesser being, like a nixie or sprite.
Distribution: If you want it, fine by me, just drop me a line first.
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Patient log: Willow Marie Rosenberg
Date: 08/04/99
Patient was admitted today by her parents, Ira and Sheila Rosenberg. Patient is seventeen years of age, and appears to show advanced signs of disassociation, perhaps derealization. Patient has been tested for narcotics at the request of her parents, but all test results came back negative, indicating that she is perhaps suffering from some sort of psychotic break instead.
At this time the patient seems to be in a constant delusionary state, fluctuating between despondency and extremely volatile moods, often with violent outbursts. She already has bitten several of the orderlies, and it was necessary to place her in five point restraints to prevent her from further harming herself or anyone else. It was also necessary to give her a heavy dose of Alprazolam to calm her.
At this time I am placing her on 6 mg of Haloperidol, three times daily to start, given the severity of her outbursts, and will monitor any necessary dosage changes from there.
Dick Scholten MD., Attending Physician
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“Miss Rosenberg? Miss Rosenberg, can you hear me?”
The world was spinning. Willow lifted her aching head, and looked out with bleary eyes. She couldn’t move her arms. Suddenly there was a bright light shining in her eyes.
“Well, pupils are responsive, which is a good sign. The medication must be wearing off. Miss Rosenberg my name is Dr. Scholten. I’m sorry you had to be restrained,” he said, referring to the straitjacket she had been placed in, “but when you were brought in, you were behaving quite violently, and I’m afraid it was a necessary precaution… Miss Rosenberg, can you hear me?”
“Wh…where am I?”
“You’re at the Marion Mental Health Center for Young Adults in Sioux City, Iowa.”
“Iowa, that’s where they grow potatoes, right?”
“No, that’s Idaho. How are you feeling?”
“I’m thirsty,” she said softly.
“Well I’ll have one of the nurses bring you in a glass of water soon.”
“How did I get here?”
“Your parents brought you in a few days ago. You’re mother and I are old friends.”
“My parents…my parents are here?”
“Well they’re gone now, they couldn’t stay of course. But Sheila assured me they would be in touch.”
“They left me here,” Willow said, hurt, but not surprised.
“Well your parents believe, and I concur, that you have a rather serious form of a dissociative disorder, known as derealization. I’m a specialist in the field, so naturally they contacted me.”
“You think I’m crazy?...... Maybe I am crazy,” she mumbled, shaking her head, trying to clear her thoughts.
“Well I prefer not to use that term. You’re ‘sick’, and you’re parents brought you here so you could get better. Now many therapists would choose to tip toe around the subject of a patient’s disorder, for fear of upsetting them. But I believe a head on approach is much more productive. So, I’m just going to ask you a few questions now to get things started, alright?” he said, not waiting for a response, “Now, when your parents gave me your history, they said you had run away two weeks ago.”
“I was ‘kidnapped’, ‘three months ago’,” Willow said with no small amount of hostility.
“I see, ‘kidnapped’ huh?” he said in a pacifying tone while jotting something down in the file he was holding, “Well, lets get back to that. Your mother said she found several books on witchcraft and the occult in your room? Are you a practitioner of the occult?”
“I want to go home.”
“I’m sure you do, but first you need to get well. Now to do that, we need to open up a dialogue so we can discuss how such fantasies as magic and imaginary kidnappers, only keep you sick.”
“I didn’t imagine it, it was real.”
“Surely Miss Rosenberg you don’t expect me to believe that you have been missing for three months and your parents only just realized two weeks ago that you were gone?”
Willow gave a jaded laugh, “No, I guess that would be hard to believe,” she said coldly, “Can you get me out of this fucking straitjacket now, please?”
“If you prove you can behave yourself until tomorrow, I’ll have it removed then. Now, about these witchcraft books…”
It went on like this for some time, until Willow finally refused to
speak at all. She couldn’t believe her parents had done this to her. Wasn’t
it bad enough that they ignored her and neglected her, but now they had
locked her up too?
Dr. Scholten finally gave up his interrogation and left. A few minutes
later a nurse came in to administer her medication, and finally gave her
a drink of water. She wanted the water, but felt pretty sure she didn’t
want the pills.
“What are these?” she asked her burly male nurse.
“Anti-psychotics. They might make you sleepy, but don’t worry; we’ll have your dinner to you before they take full effect. We wouldn’t want you to choke after all,” he said with a somewhat sinister smile.
“I don’t want them.”
“Well, you ‘could’ refuse, but that would just mean getting a shot instead, so I suggest you take the pills.”
‘Well,’ she thought as she forced them down, ‘I can tell I’m really going to enjoy my stay here.’
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Patient log: Willow Marie Rosenberg
Date: 08/30/99
Patient had to be placed in the Quiet Room again today. Although she does seem to be responding to the Haloperidol, I’m hesitant to increase her dosage any further for fear of possible neuromuscular side effects. Instead I will maintain her current dosage, and continue with the physical restraints and Alprazolam for any violent outbursts.
The cause of today’s incident was again the discussion of her fictitious kidnapping. She has been quite persistent with this delusion, insisting that this event had actually taken place, and even went so far as to threaten me that her ‘kidnapper’, a person she refers to only as ‘Spike’, will come for her, and I believe her exact words were that he would “disembowel my entire staff”. I pointed out to her the obvious holes in this delusion, namely that she had only been missing two weeks according to her parents, and that if she had in fact been kidnapped, how had she escaped, and why would she want to go back?
However, she defended her irrational thinking, explaining that her ‘friends’ had rescued her. As for why she would want her captor to return for her, she explained that they were ‘bound by blood,’ and said in her defense that this sort of thing had happened before, citing the incident with ‘Sharon Tate’. I of course corrected her obvious blunder, informing her that it was in fact Patricia Hearst who was famous for sympathizing with her captors, and assured her that she showed no known signs of Stockholm Syndrome. At this point she became extremely agitated, again trying to bite me, and had to be restrained.
I have contacted my colleague Dr. Mathers, who is an expert on disorders involving cult behavior, about her apparent fetish for biting and her reference to having a ‘blood bond’ with her imaginary captor. I will continue the Haloperidol at 20 mg, three times daily, and 15 mg of Librium at night for her insomnia.
Dick Scholten MD., Attending Physician
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“Ok, tell me again what I’m supposed to be doing?” Willow asked annoyed.
“It’s art therapy,” said Cheryl, a short dumpy woman coved in clay flecks, “I want you to use the clay to express how you are feeling.”
“Well then I’m already done, because my pot looks stupid, and I ‘feel’ stupid.”
“Well, you can refuse to participate in your therapy if you wish, but that would mean going back in the Quiet Room,” Cheryl said, giving Willow a serious, but not unkind look.
Willow shuddered. The Quiet Room was where they put patients to ‘calm down’, in other words to punish them. It was called the quiet room, because the padding on the walls and floor muffled the sound, so no one had to listen to your screaming. But it really should have been called the ‘cold’ room, because at some point in the past a patient had broken the thermostat for this room, and it had never been fixed, leaving it about fifty degrees in there. Willow had spent the better part of the last three weeks in this room, lying on the floor so she could look out the one tiny window, all way up by the ceiling, and see the sky. She did not want to go back in there, so she reached across the table, grabbing a large lump of clay and started over on her pot.
After three weeks of fighting the system, and insisting that these ‘doctors’ had no idea what they were talking about, she finally wised up and figured out that the only way she was ever going to get out of here was if she started jumping through their hoops. She kept hoping that Spike would find her, rescue her, but she doubted that even Buffy or Giles knew where she was, so there was little hope of ‘Spike’ finding her.
She sighed as she thought of him, feeling the clay sliding between her fingers as she increased the speed on the potter’s wheel. Scenes from the movie ‘Ghost’ started to play through her head, this time staring her and Spike. His fingers on hers, molding the clay, feeling its slippery texture. Lost in thought, she pressed down harder on the foot pedal, making the wheel go even faster. The clay felt ‘amazing’, she closed her eyes and she could almost smell him; whiskey, cigarettes, and leather. She smiled, not realizing the wheel was now at full speed as her ‘pot’, now reduced the nothing more than a lopsided lump of clay, went flying off the wheel, hitting Cheryl in the chest hard before falling to the floor with a wet thump.
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! Please don’t send me to the Quiet Room! It was an accident, I swear!” Willow pleaded, expecting Cheryl to be furious, but instead she simply picked up the clay, trying hard not to laugh.
“It’s ok, I know it was an accident,” she said with a smile, “You were just expressing your emotions and got a little carried away is all.” It was Willow’s turn to laugh then, and it felt good. “I think that is the first time I’ve heard so much as a giggle out of you since you got here. You should do it more often, it’s good for the soul. So do you want to tell me what you were thinking about when your pottery suddenly became performance art?”
“Not really,” Willow said, shaking her head and blushing furiously.
“Ok, but just answer me this, blonde or brunette?” she asked with a sly wink.
“Bleach blonde,” Willow answered, looking at the ground and blushing again.
“Thought so, ever since that movie ‘Ghost’ came out, I always picture ‘Harrison Ford’ every time ‘I’ work on the wheel, so don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Now why don’t you get cleaned up, it’s almost time for dinner.”
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Patient log: Willow Marie Rosenberg
Date: 02/04/00
Patient had her six month review today, and I believe she has made remarkable progress. As previously noted in her patient logs, she has completely given up all delusions of having been kidnapped, realizing that her ‘captor’ was really just a manifestation of her desire to maintain a mature, sexual relationship. However, when she experienced conflicting feelings of guilt and shame, typical of this transition into adulthood, the patient was unable to reconcile these feelings and suffered a temporary psychotic break. However, she has now apparently resolved this conflict.
As for her dabbling in the occult, it seems this was simply part of a typical experimentation with different belief systems, quite common of this age group. Once she was able to think more rationally about the subject, she could see the destructive nature of such fantasies as magic.
I would still like to keep her for another six weeks of observation, to verify, that these changes are permanent, but I feel that if she continues to do well she will be ready for release at the end of this time period. Until then, I am decreasing her dosage of Haloperidol to 4 mg three times daily, and will continue the 15 mg of Librium at night for her insomnia.
Dick Scholten MD., Attending Physician
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Willow was in a great mood. She had art therapy today, and couldn’t wait to tell Cheryl that in exactly one week her parents were coming to take her home! She was so happy, and nothing could ruin her mood. One more week and she would be free, and better still, she would be able to see Spike again. Xander had let slip a couple of months ago that he was back in Sunnydale. He hadn’t meant to tell her, and when she asked about him, Xander wouldn’t say much except that Spike had been helping Buffy for some reason. He refused to say why, but Willow knew that if he was hanging around Sunnydale, he must be waiting for her. He was just being nice to Buffy because it was part of some master plan. She was sure of it. She happily whistled ‘Anarchy in the UK’ as she walked to the art studio. Everything was finally turning around for her.
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Willow lay in bed trying to sleep. The orderly was late with her sleeping pills, but she was content to try to sleep without them. She hated all the medication she had to take, and was relieved when Dr. Scholten told her he was lowering her dosage on her anti-psychotics. Maybe if she pretended to be asleep when the orderly finally came, he would just leave her be and not make her take the pills. Just then she heard her door start to open, and shut her eyes, hoping he would simply close it again. She laid like that for what seemed an eternity, but still he hadn’t woken her, and he hadn’t left either.
She sensed him moving closer to the bed, watching her. ‘Great,’ she thought, ‘he’s going to make me take the stupid pills anyway.’ But then she felt a hand stoke her hair gently. She opened her eyes to see John, the new night orderly, staring down at her in lust.
“What are you doing?” she said, trying to push his hand away.
Suddenly he was on her before she had time to think or react, pinning her tiny frame to her hospital bed. As he used his left shoulder to hold her upper body in place, he reached out for the restraint straps hanging from her guard rails and strapped first one and then the other hand in place. Willow struggled, kicking and yelling, as he quickly reached up her nightgown and pulled off her panties, shoving them in her mouth to shut her up. Then he strapped her legs down in the same fashion as her arms.
Once he was finished he stood and admired his handiwork as he divested himself of his clothing. Willow continued to struggle, but it was hopeless. John was the only staff member who would be working on her wing, so there was no one to help her, and it was impossible to break the restraint straps, she had tried countless times in the past to no avail. She could see John staring at her wearing a smirk as if he could read her mind, while he leisurely stroked his hard cock.
“I’m so glad we get to have this little bit of time together,” he said, now climbing up onto the bed, and positioning himself between her legs, “I was afraid they wouldn’t schedule me to work again before you were released, and I would’ve never forgiven myself if I’d missed the opportunity to fuck a sexy little whore like you.”
As he spoke to her, spittle flew from his mouth, into her face making her flinch in disgust. He stroked his fingers down her auburn curls, gently separating the folds of her sex. Then positioning his weeping cock at her opening, he slammed his full length into her dry channel. Willows screams were silenced by her gag, but the tears in her eyes from the pain and humiliation were more than evident.
As he pumped furiously into her, he never took his eyes off hers, he wanted to see the hurt he was causing her. Willow closed her eyes in protest, but he was beyond caring at that point. He was close. He drove into her with all his force, still feeling her feeble struggles to resist him, as his balls tightened and he shot his hot seed into her womb.
When it was over, he collapsed on top of her for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He looked at her face again, and saw tears streaming down her cheeks. She was so beautiful. He pulled the gag out of her mouth, and leaned in to taste her lips. But before he got the chance, she reached her head up and bit him on the nose as hard as she could, creating a deep gouge on either side of it. It was his turn to scream, as he pried her jaw open, freeing himself. Then he raised his hand to strike her in return, but hesitated and simply smiled, taking time to gingerly wipe the blood from his face. He then calmly climbed off of her, grabbing some tissues from her nightstand and using them to wipe away the blood and semen that was leaking from her violated opening, before carefully removing her leg restraints long enough to put her panties back on her, and strapping her in again. Then, grabbing more tissues for his nose, he dressed himself, and continued to smile at Willow, who was lying perfectly still in shocked silence.
“Thanks for the fuck. Oh, and the bite too. There’s no way they’re going to let you out of here now. See you tomorrow night,” and with that he left her room laughing.
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Patient log: Willow Marie Rosenberg
Date: 03/14/00
I am sorry to report that just days before her release, the patient has had a complete relapse. She has bitten another staff member, causing him serious injury. When asked why she did this, the patient claimed the staff member had violated her sexually, but we can find no evidence to back up her claim, given that she refused any sort of physical examination to verify her story. Given her history, it seems likely that she has simply suffered another psychotic break, most likely brought on by the stress of her impending release.
I have increased her dosage of the Haloperidol back to 20 mg, three times daily, and will continue to administer 15 mg of Librium at night for her insomnia. As for the staff member she assaulted, I have had him reassigned to days until further notice, since he seems upset the patient.
Dick Scholten MD., Attending Physician
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Willow poked at her food. She wasn’t hungry, in fact she was rarely hungry anymore. Her release date had come and gone three months ago. She had been in this hell hole for eight months and unfortunately there was no end in sight. The only time when she didn’t feel like hanging herself was when she was in the art studio with Cheryl.
Cheryl had been the only one to believe her when she told the staff that John had raped her, and she had made such a fuss about them investigating, that they finally agreed to have him switched to days. But then when Cheryl wouldn’t drop the issue, they had threatened to fire her, and Willow begged her to stop, not wanting to lose the only friend she had in this place.
Eventually all the other staff seemed to forget about the incident, putting John back on the night shift. The funny thing was that she didn’t even care anymore, what was the point in fighting him when no one cared what he did to her, and if she did anything to hurt him back, they upped her medication.
She gave up on dinner, and headed back to her room. She wanted to get some reading done before John came. Xander had sent her a copy of “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,” thinking it was about birds. She had laughed at the irony, not having the heart to tell him what it was really about.
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“Hello there my little lover slut. Are you ready for a good hard fucking?” John asked as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him.
“Oh just shut up and fuck me already,” Willow replied coldly, pulling her nightgown over her head to reveal her naked body underneath.
“What?” John asked, taken aback.
“Look, we both know you’re going to do it anyway, and frankly I’m tired of fighting you. So shut your mouth, take off your pants and fuck me already.”
John was a bit in shock, but he stripped all the same. He had never had sex with a willing woman before, and wondered if it would be very different.
“Here’s the deal,” Willow said as he approached her bed, “No restraints, and no kissing. Alright?” John nodded as he climbed on top of her, “Good,” she said, reaching down to finger her clit, as she closed her eyes and pictured Spike’s fingers teasing her sensitive nub.
John had never seen a woman pleasure herself before, and was fascinated as he watched Willow alternate between rubbing and pinching her clit, letting out small mewling sounds. His cock got harder, and bobbed against his stomach at the sight of this vixen. He slid two fingers of his own, into her core, and was shocked to find it was sopping wet as she moaned from the contact. He pulled his fingers out again, and brought them to his mouth, tasting her essence, and it was intoxicating. He could wait no longer.
He positioned himself at her opening, and slowly slid his hard cock into her, reveling in the sensation that was created by her natural lubrication. As he filled her he was shocked again when she bucked her hips up, driving him deeper inside of her. He moaned low in his throat as he began a slow rhythm. Willow matched him thrust for thrust as she continued to rub her clit, allowing the sensation to overwhelm her.
She drove all thoughts of John, or the ward, out of her mind. It was Spike who was making love to her. His body was still hot from a recent kill, and he was driving her into oblivion. She sped up her pace, rubbing harder, and thrusting her hips against John’s with all her force.
“Unghh…Spike…Fuck me…” she cried out, as he drove into her, over and over. She felt her belly tighten, as a million delicious tingles washed over her body, her muscles clenching tightly around his cock.
John felt her clamp down on his shaft as he pounded into her hot core, and was pulled over the edge after her. He spilled his hot seed inside of her, and then collapsed on top of her in exhaustion. Feeling his hot, sweaty, body lying on her, pulled Willow back to reality.
“Get off of me you prick. You had your fuck now let me sleep,” she said, her voice again becoming cold. He complied with her request, and Willow realized that by giving into him, she had in fact taken control back. It was obvious that despite his past experiences he seemed to prefer a willing partner, and that gave her some power over him. And by the look in his eyes, he knew it too. He dressed quickly, and headed for the door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” he said on his way out.
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Willow looked down at her breakfast and felt her stomach turn. She had woken up late and hadn’t had time to shower before going to eat, and now she was seriously regretting it. She had been letting John come to her room willingly for over a month now, but she still couldn’t get used to his stench. It wasn’t anything she could put her finger on, like a mix of cheap after shave and beer, and it was making her ill.
She pushed her tray away, and stood to go take a shower, wanting to wash his stink away, but as she headed back to her room, she felt her knees go weak, and the world start to spin. She thought she would hurl, and grabbed at the wall for support, but her hand seemed to miss as everything faded into black and she fainted.
Willow woke some time later to the sound of arguing. She was still dazed, but her ears perked up when she heard her name mentioned.
“How could this have happened?” said the voice she recognized
as
Dr. Scholten’s.
“You know very well how it happened, the question is what do we do about it?” said a voice she was unfamiliar with..
“I’m not sure. I guess that would be up to her parents,” Dr. Scholten said uncomfortably.
“But I thought Miss Rosenberg was eighteen now?”
“She is. Her parents were in a month ago to sign forms, having her committed as an adult.”
‘My parents were here?’ Willow thought, trying to suppress a hurt sob that suddenly filled her throat, ‘they hadn’t even bothered to see her.’
“Even so, I think legally the decision would still be hers. After all, she is the one who is pregnant.”
“Pregnant!” Willow yelled, bolting upright.