Notes: Based very loosely on the trailer for Gothika.
Rating: R
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~Part: 1~
“I don’t understand.”
The middle aged woman pushed her glasses up and cleared her throat, “I’m not sure how else to explain it to you, Ms. Rosenberg.”
“No, no,” Willow’s voice grew frantic, “You don’t understand. This just, this doesn’t make any sense. I would never,” she faltered, “I couldn’t.” She shook her head, “I couldn’t.”
“But, you did. There is solid evidence against you.”
“It’s not true,” she tried, “It can’t be true.”
The woman let out a sigh and took out a photograph from the envelope she held in her hands. Pushing it across the table, she remained silent.
Willow’s eyes grew wide as she saw the photograph. There were a few moments of silence before she reached out with trembling hands and picked it up. Holding it up in front of her, she felt her throat go dry before the photograph slipped from her hands and down onto the table again. Willow grabbed at it and turned it around, preferring to stare at the glaring white rather then the picture on the other side. Shaking her head, she managed, “It’s not true. You’re lying.”
“Ms. Rosenberg, please,” the woman said again, her patience growing thin, “I’ve tried to explain this to you but you don’t seem to understand me.”
“I don’t understand,” Willow rubbed her temples roughly, “I don’t-I don’t remember anything. I can’t remember. I don’t know what I did.”
Shaking her head sadly, the woman replied, “I believe you do. You just don’t want to remember. But, you must. You must come to terms with the fact that you-“
“No!” Willow yelled loudly, still shaking her head, “I didn’t do any of it. I don’t remember. It’s not,” her face scrunched up, tears pouring from her eyes, “It’s not true.”
The woman snatched the picture off the table and held it up in front of her, “Do you see this? This picture is solid proof that you did. Yes,” she pressed further, “You did. The first step towards recovery is accepting reality. Ms. Rosenberg,” the woman sighed, mentally calming herself down, “Willow, you must accept what you did.”
“You have to believe me,” the redhead whispered hoarsely, “I don’t remember any of it. You have to believe me.”
“In order for me to believe you, you have to tell me your story and for that to happen, you have to trust me,” the woman said patiently, “Can you trust me, Willow?”
Willow looked up at her and asked shakily, “How can you trust someone that thinks you’re crazy?”
There was a pause before the lie spilled from the woman’s lips, “I don’t think you’re crazy.”
“You’re lying,” Willow said automatically, “I know you’re lying.” She let out a laugh, “Even I think I’m a little coo coo at this point but I’m telling you the truth. I honestly don’t remember anything. I can’t do anything like that,” she pointed at the repulsive photograph, “I would *never* do anything like that. I save lives,” her voice got quieter as she began to mumble more to herself, trying to convince herself rather then the woman, “That’s what the Scooby Gang does. We save innocents, protect Sunnydale from any apocalypses and baddies. That’s what we do.”
“Willow, Ms. Rosenberg, since this is my first day with you, I’m not fully aware of your past just yet but I do know of some things. I understand that the town that you come from, there have been many casualties.”
A scoff spilled from Willow’s lips, “You don’t understand the half of it. They need me, I need to help Buffy.”
“Yes, Ms. Summers,” the woman nodded as she looked down at a pad of paper she was holding, “She was here earlier trying to gain entrance but you were still unconscious.”
“Buffy was here. Why didn’t you let her in?”
“Ms. Rosenberg, you are in no state to receive visitors and also, she is not your family and so as of now, she cannot be admitted in.”
“But,” she paused, knowing there was no point in arguing. Sitting back in her chair, she looked around the darkened room and at the security guard in the corner, desperately wanting to sort out her muddled thoughts. Nothing made sense anymore. “I don’t understand.”
The woman sighed, so, it was back to this again, “Willow, I’ve explained it to you already.”
“It doesn’t make any sense. I keep telling you this and you just don’t hear me.”
“I am hearing you, Ms. Rosenberg, but what you are saying makes no sense. You have to accept the facts. You have to accept reality.”
Anger flared in Willow’s eyes as she spat, “Reality to you is what you want to believe is true. Stop being so closed minded and actually hear what I’m saying to you. I. Don’t. Remember. I’m being accused of something that I didn’t do. I could *never* do something like that.”
The woman sighed and shook her head, grabbing the papers off the desk and placing them in her briefcase, “I believe we are done for today. I’ll be back tomorrow, perhaps we’ll be able to make more progress then.”
Willow looked down and whispered, “Don’t leave, please. I’m sorry I got mad but I really don’t remember. You have to help me. Please,” she begged, “Please help me.”
The woman moved forward and touched Willow’s hand. At the contact, the security guard in the corner, immediately stepping forward, “Ms. Turner.”
Looking back at the man, she shook her head, “It’s alright.” Meeting Willow’s eyes, she said, “I will help you. But, you have to accept it.”
Willow sniffled and sat back in her chair, the tears stinging her eyes as she shook her head, “No.”
Walking towards the door, Sarah Turner put her hand on the door knob before turning around and looking Willow in the eye once again, “Accept it, Willow. Please.”
“I can’t. I just, I can’t. I couldn’t have.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No,” the word was a strangled whisper.
“Accept it.” Saying no more, Sarah Turner walked out of the small room and down the hallway. Her heels clicked as she rushed to meet the next appointment.
Standing outside the door, two orderlies watched her retreating figure before turning back to the door, peering inside.
“What’s up with her?”
“Another nutcase.”
The man nodded in understanding, “So, what’d she do?”
“Killed a man.”
The man raised an eyebrow, “And, they put her in here?”
“Not just a normal killing. We’re talking knife in hand, carving some weird ass pictures in the dude’s chest. In daylight.”
“You’re shitting me.”
”Nope.”
The man scoffed before taking a few steps back, holding his hands out in front of him.
“Where you going?”
“I’m letting Pete take care of this one alone. I’m not going anywhere near this chick.”
“We gotta help him.”
“He can handle it.”
Shaking his head, the orderly walked down the hallway, keeping in step with his friend, never turning back to look at the door to the chilly dimly lit room which held a crying girl prisoner.
~Part: 2~
Willow’s head fell back against the soft, cushioned white covering of the room as she stared blankly at the empty space before her. What the heck was going on? The lady, this Sarah Turner and the rest of the people at the institution seemed to think she killed something. That was a laugh. She was Willow Rosenberg, all around good citizen of Sunnydale. She was always a straight-A student, helped tutor and nightly, she fought the forces of darkness. She was sometimes even uncomfortable with killing demons. And, now, they accuse her of killing an innocent man, in daylight? It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t capable of those things… was she?
The redhead rolled her hand into a fist and slammed it down against the cushioned floor, frustrated with her thoughts and confusion. She honestly couldn’t remember anything from the ‘incident’. From all she knew, somebody could’ve set her up. It wasn’t her who did it. It couldn’t have been her. It just wasn’t possible. She could never take an innocent life. But, those pictures. God, those pictures proved it all. The body, the knife, the blood on her hands.
Willow unconsciously began to scratch her nails against her palm, feeling warm blood drip down her hands, down her forearms and slowly onto the ground. Snapping back into reality, she looked down at her palm, no trace of blood was anywhere in sight. Taking a sharp intake of breath, Willow sniffled and closed her eyes tightly.
What was happening to her?
~^~**~^~
Jason was an honest person. He was forward, conservative and he liked to help people. Although working at a mental institution had never been on his agenda, he was still here, working part-time as an orderly. His newest patient was a young girl of only 19, by the name of Willow Rosenberg. When he first heard her name, the familiar sense of knowledge of the person crept forward in his mind but he quickly pushed it aside. He didn’t know any crazy people outside of the institution. It wasn’t until he read over her file that he realized where he knew her from. She was from Sunnydale. She was the girl that always managed to beat him in the sectional Science Fair.
He remembered the quick glances he would sneak in. She was not only smart but also extremely pretty. And, now, she was in a mental institution, accused of a brutal killing. No, it wasn’t an accusation. It was truth. She committed the crime in front of a wide public in the middle of the day.
It all just didn’t fit though. The shy, sweet, and rambling girl he knew from the Science fair couldn’t do something like this. But, then again, maybe he judged her too quickly. Maybe, there was just a dark side to her that he didn’t know before. Maybe, she was insane all along. Shuddering slightly, Jason rubbed his forearms and walked out of the cold storage room and into the main hallway, hoping to focus his attentions on anything but his current thoughts.
Still, they were there. Seeing someone you know from your everyday normal life at your job was one thing. But, when you worked as an orderly at a mental institution, that was another thing altogether. She seemed so normal.
Jason sighed. Guess the saying was right. It’s always the quiet ones.
~^~**~^~
Willow’s head shot up when she heard the door open. Seeing who it was, her head lowered as she backed away into the corner, knowing that whatever the orderly was going to do to her wasn’t going to be good. She would have never thought she’d ever end up in a situation like this. In a mental hospital, inching away from people that were supposedly trying to help her. Didn’t they get it? She didn’t need their help. She was healthy. Why didn’t they understand that?
“Willow? Can you hear me?”
Sniffling, she nodded slightly, not wanting him to get any closer. Not when she was like this. Not when she was so confused and weakened mentally.
“Okay. Good. I have your pills okay? Ms. Turner prescribed them for you. They’re going to help you get better, okay?”
“I am better. I’m okay. I don’t need pills,” Willow looked up with wide eyes.
Shaking his head, Jason sighed, “You need to take them.”
“I don’t need medication. It’s only going to make me worse. It’s not healthy to take medication when you’re perfectly healthy. I’m healthy,” Willow tried, her voice cracking slightly, “I know I’m healthy. I can’t be here. I can’t.”
“You want to get out of here, don’t you?”
Willow looked up, surprised, “Can you get me out?”
Nodding slightly, Jason bent down and moved forward, knowing that he really wasn’t supposed to. Reaching out, he gently grabbed Willow’s hand and opened her palm, placing two small white pills in her palm before giving her a cup of water, “Take them then.”
With shaky fingers, Willow placed them in her mouth and took a gulp of water before opening her mouth wide, knowing that he would want proof, “There,” she spat. “I took them.”
“Good,” he said softly before turning to leave, “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
As soon as the door closed, Willow reached into her mouth and grabbed the pills out from under her tongue and threw the across the room in frustration.
It had gotten down to this.
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