He slapped his face. It was a nervous tick that he could not shake. The others in the room avoided him as they walked him back inside. The strong men with those white coats held his arms dragging his feet across the shiny floor back to his room. He saw the way they looked at him. They were afraid. They did not know. He tried to slap his face but the white coat stopped him babbling something at him, but he wasn’t listening, he had to slap his face or he couldn’t think straight — not that he had a straight thought in his head to begin with. But it made it clearer somehow. The voices stopped for a moment when he impacted his face.
“Back to your room now Mr. Shelby.” The white coat on his right said pulling his arm.
He tried again to slap himself but again was thwarted. His head twitched as the voices fed on his mind.
Kill them…
They are nothing…
They are not worthy to lick your shoes…
“I’m not wearing shoes…” He said to the voices. He giggled, another fallacy he found in the voices logic. He would have to be wearing shoes for these peons to lick them. “I need shoes…”
“You can’t have shoes, Mr. Shelby...You tried to commit suicide with the laces.” The white coat on the left said, still dragging him.
“But I need shoes...so you can lick them…” He said with a slight giggle.
“We need to get him back to his room before he cracks again.” One white coat said to the other. “He stabbed the last doctor when he was like this…”
“With what?” The other white coat asked.
“The Doc’s own pen…”
They dragged the giggling fool back to his room and strapped him down. They watched him strain against his restraints for a while before closing the door and locking it.
He looked around his dark room. His hand twitched against his restraints attempting to slap his face.
“Are you ready for your treatment Mr. Shelby?” A voice said. Shelby looked up to the now open door. A mouse of a man stood there wringing his hands. This balding man stood there looking at Mr. Shelby as one would look at a piece of meat. He wrung his hands. This mouse licked his lips as he undid his restraints. “I can make the voices stop Mr. Shelby…”
“You make it worse…” Shelby mumbled. “You make it worse!” He screamed. One hand free he batted at the doctor, and his own face in turn.
“Mr. Shelby, restrain yourself.” The Doctor said pulling a syringe out of his pocket. Holding Shelby’s arm down with one hand, pulling the needle cap off with his teeth. Plunging blindly into the man’s arm, dropping the plunger in a hurry.
Shelby lulled in his movements. He slapped at his face, slowly making contact with his cheek his hand stalling on his face as the sedatives kicked in. The world slipped into darkness. The pictures and memories of Mr. Shelby melted into oblivion.
The world flashed with bright light. Pure electricity passed through Shelby’s mind. His body seized as the snake-like forms of pure power jolted through his mind. The inner voice of Mr. Shelby twitched. Livid, the being moved. Shelby convulsed as the inner monster stirred.
The smell of burnt flesh sears the sinuses. A white fire stretches into Shelby, reaching for the inner monster, the evil being within Shelby’s psyche. Shelby screeched with the creature as it scrambled.
“Exorcizamus te, omnis immunde spiritus, omni satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, in nomini et virtute Domini nostri Jesu Christi, eradicare et effugare a Dei Ecclesia, ab animabus ad imaginem Dei conditis ac pretioso divini Agni sanguini redemptis!” A voice boomed. The white fire grabbed at the inner monster, grabbing at the creature.
Shelby screamed, his body jerked as far as the restraints would allow.
“Crux sacra sit mihi lux! Nunquam draco sit mihi dux. Vade retro Satana! Nunquam suade mihi vana! Sunt mala quae libas. Ipse venena bibas!” The voice screamed over Shelby’s horrible outcries. The white fire managed to snag the darkness, pulling the darkness out, snaking through poor Shelby. Shelby shook like a seizure victim. Violently convulsing as the demon clawed as it was pulled out of Shelby, like trying to pull a cord of rope out of one’s stomach.
Panting. The subtle movement of air back and forth into the lungs. Only the sound of beating hearts and labored breath fill the room.
“Mr. Shelby…?” The voice asked panting. “Mr. Shelby?”
“Where...am I?” Shelby asked, breathless.
“Mr. Shelby, you are at the St. August Hospital. You have just had an exorcism. I need you to rest now Mr. Shelby.” The voice said.
“Who are you?” Shelby asked.
“Father Hugh O’Flaherty,” Hugh said patting Shelby on the shoulder.
“Thank you Father…” Shelby said before losing consciousness.
