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Black Diamonds	By : Triyune Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 2459 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don’t own Batman nor the Joker and I don't make money from writing this fic. Lyrics by The Beatles/George Harrison; Nine Inch Nails/Trent Reznor; Depeche Mode/Martin Gore; Genesis; Madness; Wolfsheim

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Summary:
The Joker proceeds with his new plan to unsettle his lost lover and gets himself into a sort of trouble he never saw coming.
Notes:
Handle with care. It will make your dopamine level drop considerably...but maybe that is just what you want and need.
Lyrics from the song “Hey you” by Pink Floyd, written by Roger Waters.

High voltage

“Oh Master Bruce, don’t tell me you are doing that for Gotham!”
I knew exactly what that voice and look meant and I did my best to ignore it.
“Alfred, as long as he sucks my dick he won’t terrorize Gotham.”
A lame argument, but I was just sick of that quarrel and tried to get him all disgusted.
“Your word choice, Master Bruce! This is not the boy I know. I think that smoking really changed you!”
“You don’t get it at all, do you. Just because it was devil’s handiwork at your time doesn’t mean times have changed.”
“I can hardly believe that the effects of it have changed over time.”
“So you admit having tried it too?”
“Master Bruce, this is not what we are talking about now-“
“It is. Weed and the Joker’s prick up my ass, right?”
“Master Bruce. I beg you.”
“Look. You don’t need to get it. Whatever. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow and need the black suit, thanks.”
Bruce Wayne got up from the breakfast table and disappeared in his office room. Alfred gave a long sigh and sat down on the chair.
He didn’t get it. Not at all. Neither of these things, although the second one certainly troubled him more than the first one.
Hey you
Maybe his boy had been lacking a mother figure. He abandoned himself to self-recriminations until he remembered that his boy would need the black suit. With eyes cast down, he got the suit and went to the washing room. There, sheets soiled with the piss of his nemesis greeted him with a nasty smell.
“Goddarnit!!!” he yelled and threw the suit against the wall. He felt so desperate, feeling his boy slipping from him. Where would that end? Not enough that he had to imagine that white bastard passionately penetrating his Master’s ass and his Master enjoying that...no, he felt like losing him. When he refused to talk to him it was bad. Catastrophic, in fact. He knew that he had really vexed him then. When his Master wordlessly left, he knew that he’d be facing a hard time. Could be days, could be weeks until his Master would talk to him again.
Twice in his life he had been forced to go through such a time already and he cursed at just having triggered the third. But he knew so well that he was right and he would not cave in. He took the suit from the floor and put it into the washing machine. There was no way he could reach him during such times. Patience. That had always saved him. He would have to stand it, the silence.
He would keep serving his breakfast, doing his bed, driving him, but just in silence. He wasn’t someone to give up that easily and whenever his Master returned to him, that look in his eyes, he knew that it had been worth it.

Elsewhere.
Johnny Onny was given instructions. The Batman would come to him; he’d approach him at night again when he would leave the cafe. He was going to ask him whether he knew where the Joker was. Johnny was to answer that the Joker had known that he would ask about him and that the Batman should meet the Joker by the Coral Building, next Saturday, 7 pm. Plainclothes.
Then, Johnny was to call the Joker and tell him that the Batman had been here.
Everything went down the way the Joker had predicted it. Batman had approached him on Sunday, late in the evening and after calling his boss, Johnny went back to the cafe to calm his racing heart with the help of three rum shots before he tended to the rest. When he had downed the rum he made another phone call, telling his gang to be ready at Saturday, 5 pm, Bankier’s Reef 3. Further instructions would be given on site.

Saturday, 6 pm.
Alfred had driven me to the place. I had not explained anything to him and he didn’t ask. A crowd had gathered in front of the building and I didn’t dare to look at it at all. Definitely a nasty surprise. But I was responsible for that so I had to deal with it.
out there in the cold
Their eyes looked at the sky. When I lifted my head to look up a man caught my attention, standing by the edge of the building. I prayed that it wouldn’t be him but just the mayor or someone else.
getting lonely, getting old
Police officers came running towards me.
“Mister Wayne, he asked for you! Thank god you heard it on the news!”
“Yes, thank god...” I mumbled, staring at the tiny purple spot up there.
Can you feel me?
“What does he want?” I asked them, giving them a serious look. Inside, I felt like dying.
“Said he wants you up there, you only!”
“Master Bruce!”
I looked up again. I wasn’t afraid of the height nor of the danger, or that he would grab my suit and make me fly as well. I was afraid of looking into his eyes. Though, that situation didn’t allow for great thoughts since the officers already pulled me up the stairs.
“You don’t want him to jump?” I asked, following them up the fire exit stairs.
Breathlessly, one of them replied, “Sir, as much as we’d like to see that freak jumping and spilling his brains on the street after what he’s done to the city, we swore to save lives whenever we can.”
I frowned, smiling, then continued in silence. Right people for the right job. Finally up there, they stopped and I went to the door to open it. Before pushing down the handle I looked back at them again.
“Sorry. He just wants you up there. We’ll be here in case you need us.”
“Thanks.”
I opened the door and saw him standing by the edge, 10 meters in front of me. My heart skipped a beat, seeing him like that. In an awkward mix of fear and guilt I closed the door behind me and walked closer until he heard me and turned around. For a moment, I saw shock in his eyes but they soon narrowed and the usual gleam of glee returned to them.
“Nice of you to drop by,” he commented casually, the wind carrying his voice away, “no more!”
I froze, about three meters in front of him. He was different. His voice was different, his look and behaviour were different. There was distance between us, much more than those few meters. Something had gone wrong and I had to find out what it was.
Secretly, I was checking the situation, the options, the possible outcomes and all that.
Too high. He wouldn’t survive.
Too muddled, a deadlock. We’d not be able to solve this within a few minutes.
Too determined. I wouldn’t manage to convince him at all.
“What are you doing there?!” I shouted, anger showing in my voice. I wouldn’t lie, understanding that I’d make everything just worse if I did so.
“What does it look like? Preparing for a barbecue!”
“Look, if you are upset because-“
“Or a dinner party! With stockfish, if I manage to hit the lantern just there!”
A broad grin unsettled me. I stared at him, not knowing what to say. He grinned at me for another moment, then his smile died away.
Hey you, standing in the aisles
with itchy feet and fading smiles
Can you feel me?
The wind whipped his hair into his face but he didn’t even blink.
“Why,” he asked, despair making his voice high and cracking.
I opened my mouth in sorrow but no word would leave it.
“You abused me,” he whispered into the wind which carried his words to my ears, “just a party gag”
His voice was toneless and empty.
My chest ached. The longer I stared into these vacant eyes the more it felt like I was the one having jumped already and who now was falling. I couldn’t move, petrified by his emotions.
“Don’t,” was all I managed to breathe.
He blinked and that moment, so heavy and so horrible, seeped into my mind and I became aware of the inevitableness.
“And I didn’t even get paid,” he said. He tugged at the ribbon around his neck until he held it in his hand. He looked at it, then he looked up. My world broke.
That moment still went on and it drove me mad; just a second but I knew that it was over now. We broke the eye contact; he lifted his head and let himself fall back. His arms spread, embracing the certainty of death, and he disappeared behind the edge, the green ribbon leaving his hand, disappearing in the dark.
Unbearable coldness and hotness shot through my body at the same time and I ran to the edge, almost stumbling and falling too, just to see his body falling like a stone. Moving closer and closer towards the pavement. I held my breath, feeling my mind defragmenting. It felt so unreal.
Suddenly, a bright red spot appeared from out of nowhere, probably from an entry of a close building. Just a few moments later, his body hit the jumping sheet and disappeared in clouds of redness.
With my heart beating in my throat, I stared at the scenery for another moment until I sank down on the floor, leaning against the step, cold sweat running down my face. I could barely breathe and my heart stung. Absentmindedly, I wiped my eyes and looked around, yet, perceiving nothing.
After another minute of absolute disorientation I managed to get up and sneak a peek at the scene down there.
They were cuffing him and now pushed him into the ambulance. When I became aware of the consequences of this action I leaned down on the stone and reached for him.
He was too far away by now.
Hey you, don't help them to bury the light
Don't give in without a fight.
The doors were shut and the car left the scenery.
Slowly realizing that I had fucked up big times, I sat down again, bathed in sweat. The cold wind made me shiver.
After some time, men stormed the roof. Arms lifted me up and supported me, dragging me down the many stairs to the ground where they leaned me against a lantern. I could barely keep myself on my feet, shock paralyzing my brain and limbs.
The green ribbon was lying on the wet floor a few meters away. Maybe it would come crawling to me if I just stared at it for long enough.
“Mr. Wayne, are you alright?”
Apathetically, I gazed at the officer.
“Mr. Wayne?”
Hey you, out there on your own
“Let me handle this,” a voice I knew so well said to my right.
Arms tenderly lifted me up and carried me to a car. I was put on the back seat, the seatbelt was fastened and then I got driven away from the scene, leaving many men wondering and asking questions which doubtlessly posed themselves after the events of this night.
“You got yourself in trouble,” he remarked, a joke up his sleeve. His first words after days.
I was still too shocked than to say anything. Wordlessly, I stared at the leather of the seats.
“Or excuse me, he got you in trouble.”
“My fault,” I whispered, all life having left my voice.
I heard a long and heavy sigh.
“Great, he just got you there. Don’t you see he’s playing with you?”
“I saw no satisfaction in his eyes.”
“Oh Master Bruce,” he said, then fell silent. He knew that he couldn’t appeal to my reason right now at all.
When we arrived at home he helped me to the door. He helped me take off my shoes and he helped me out of my suit. He helped me wash my face and he helped me lie down.
He just couldn’t help me forgetting. With an unbearable emptiness in my head I lay in the dark, staring into darkness.
I had made a mistake. A petty one, a funny joke, so I had thought, leaving him there, tied to the bed, wet and wondering. I pinched the brick of my nose. A joke.
In the morning, I had still been asleep when Alfred had freed him. I was used to sleeping till 11 am when I didn’t have to attend any meetings and it had been Sunday anyway.
A joke.
sitting naked by the phone
Would you touch me?
I swallowed hard and felt tears running down my cheeks. Gritting my teeth in painful grief I turned to the side, shaking with the spasms of a silent crying fit.

___________

Without resistance, I complied when they pushed me towards the entrance of the madhouse.
I knew what I had to expect and I was sure that it was the right thing to do to get him out of my head. That way, I couldn’t betray myself and visit him though. Walls as thick as men would keep me from that.
Still, the same idiot was running the shop. Just when I had checked out three years ago it had been two wrinkles on his forehead and now it was a massacre. Chuckling at that sight, I passed him and stumbled into the wet room. As usually, they sluiced me down with cold water, threw some clothes into my face and then pushed me into my cell.
It was my cell. No one wanted to take it.
Amused at that, I got dressed and lay down.
And then, the fun started. An armada of doctors and keepers entered; my body was pinned to the mattress and I was given multiple shots of shit which would make my head ache for the next week. I complained, shouting that that wasn’t necessary at all, that I’d be a good boy, but my repudiation spoke volumes.
“Sure, a good boy, right, does he say and burns down the kitchen, like last time, eh?” one of them mocked me and slapped my face. The keepers laughed, the doctors turned their faces away. I knew some of them but there were also new ones among them.
“Cause I like you guys so much I just wanted to make you some Neapolitan ice cream cake with raspberries flambé!” I yelled, laughing like a banana.
“I love him,” one of them said, smirking, yet, keeping my arm pressed against the sheets.
“How can you not love me,” I laughed, feeling lightheaded already.
“How can you...”
My voice failed me when I felt sickness wandering up my throat. I swallowed, breaking out in a cold sweat.
“You need not drug me...I...”
Hey you
I closed my eyes and groaned with discomfort. The hands left me and one after the other left the room.
Silence. Dead silence.
with you ear against the wall
I curled up and gasped into the pillow, feeling heavy and sick.
Right then, I remembered the cosy sheets of his bed. The happiness. I didn’t need those thoughts right now; they’d just make everything worse. Desperate enough to take extreme measures, I tensed up my ab muscles until I felt my head throbbing. I exhaled and did it again until my ears were ringing and golden spots turned up in front of my eyes.
I closed them and fainted.
waiting for someone to call out
When I woke up again it was dark. I didn’t know for how long I had been knocked out, but I hoped it had been long enough to escape the nastiest effects of those drugs, and really, I just still felt sick and a headache. Quite bearable.
I was safe here. No one could hurt me.
When I turned around I moaned. My right arm felt sore and I had just been lying on that side for what, days? Lying on my back now I looked at the ceiling. There used to be a lamp.
After some time during which I could do nothing but gather myself, the light was turned on and I squinted my eyes. The door was opened and a tall man entered; I could see that much. He was dressed in a washed out green coat, short, black hair and huge, round glasses. I knew him.
“What a pleasure to meet you again, Mr. Nightcutt.”
Would you touch me?
“Just one t, if you please.”
“Sure.”
He sat down on my bed and put the folder down.
“How have you been?”
“No need to be polite. I’m not impressed by it. What do you want?” I replied dryly and tried to sit up.
“Well then, we have found a considerable concentration of THC and CDB in your blood this time.”
The words hurt. I had difficulties concentrating on what he was saying due to that headache still left from the drugs.
“Way better than your shit,” I remarked and finally had managed to sit up by then.
“Do you do that often?”
“What”
“Consuming hashish. Last time you have been here there was none of that in your blood at all.”
“Nice that you keep such track of my activities, Nightcutt.”
“I have to. I fear that it doesn’t have an especially positive effect on you. Besides, I am interested in your routines as well. They have become pretty strange lately, I think.”
“What you mean.”
“When do you smoke it?”
“When the Other appears.”
He looked at me for a moment, then took his pen from the pocket and noted something down.
’The oth’-
“Don’t forget, a capital o.”
’The oth Other’
I was familiar with that psychobabbling and searched for a topic which wouldn’t give him the slightest hint of what was going on right now.
“Who is he?”
“A crazy man,” I smiled at him, finally having managed to bend my knees and put my head on them.
Hey you
“In which sense?”
“He’s the abject. And though, I love him.”
“What does he say when he comes to you?”
“Darlin,” I said, lifting my eyebrow and smiling at him seductively.
“Do you enjoy his presence?”
“Very much.”
“That might just be the problem.”
“You have no idea how right you are, Cutt.”
Would you help me to carry the stone?
He licked his lips, then scribbled down some notes.
“Ab-ject. You know, not Ob-ject,” I remarked.
Sighing, he looked up at me, giving me an annoyed look.
Oh that annoyance was the cure for my headache; I enjoyed making people despair. A little more cheerful, I stretched my legs and folded my hands in my lap, watching him writing. When he was done, he looked at the paper for another few moments before his lighthouse glasses loomed up again.
“Are you up for an experiment?”
I tilted my head and lifted a brow.
“What kind of.”
“Self-experience.”
I eyed him. If I said no he’d think me a coward. On the other hand, I couldn’t care less what he thought.
“What kind of, I asked you!”
“Sensory deprivation.”
The word woke something in me. I stared at him, long and hard, until he looked away. I had not come here to find him lurking in the joints of the tiles yet again.
“Let me guess, an isolation tank.”
“What are you afraid of?”
Open your heart, I'm coming home.
“The darkness,” it spilled from me before I could shut my mouth.
“The Other?”
“Eventually, yes.”
“It would be a chance to confront you with these fears within a safe space.”
“I am confronted with these fears every day without your fucked iso tank anyway, thanks.”
When he took the pen to note something down I cursed myself; I felt angry at having given more away than I had wanted to.
“I’ll talk to the head.”
“No you won’t!” I screamed and got up to take that piece of paper from him, yet, he was faster than me and stored it away in his chest pocket. My eyes searched for something I could damage; he noticed that and quickly got out of my reach by getting up and taking a step towards the door.
“There’s nothing you need to be afraid of. I am your friend.”
“I have no friends!” I shouted and got up from the bed but by the time I was on my feet he was out of the room already and the door locked. I staggered and sat down again, still dizzy from the drugs.
Mortified, I leaned back against the wall, breathing deeply. Why couldn’t life just be a little easier.
But it was only fantasy
the wall was too high
as you can see
I spent the rest of the day lying in bed, dreaming of impossible things. Even in that secluded space, he haunted me and I was so weak-willed as to permit myself to dive into those comforting worlds of darkness. I fell asleep with him holding me. The pain, forgotten. In that world, I could be close to him; there was nothing else but acceptance.
When I woke up again it was dark. Pitch black darkness around me. I sat up, panicking. Where was I? I got up and tripped up on a chair. Not the tiniest spot of light anywhere. The floor was cold. Frantically searching for a point of reference, I scanned the room, assuming that it was room.
Eventually, I realized that it was just my cell.
“Nightcutt, you fucking asshole!” I yelled, hoping that the addressed one would hear me.
Yet, I heard no reply. He couldn’t do that to me. My fingers feeling for the walls, I took a few steps until I touched coldness.
It was his darkness.
Being close to hyperventilation, I sat down on the floor and tried to calm down. Easy. I’d do fine; I had spent many hours in complete darkness, often, and nothing had ever happened. I convinced myself of having told him lies.
One lie, two lies, three little lies, four spies, five dies, six skies, seven-wise. I clenched my teeth, stopping myself from that compulsive behaviour. Just ten minutes and I was close to going bananas. Eight lies, nine mice, ten rise.
Something moved to my left. I jumped from the floor and pressed myself against the door. What had they put into my cell?
However, it was silent then and nothing moved anymore so I sat down on the bed. I closed my eyes and thought of my flat, how I would make coffee, how I would clean the window, how I would jump from it. My heart was racing; I suspected them having drugged me yet again.
While I’m in India, farewell to you.
My suit. Where was my jacket? I had come here dressed in my jacket, I wanted it back.
Three rows can never be good enough.
“Where have you been,” a gleeful voice whispered to my left.
I froze. Eleven ties, twelve precise.
“You could have died, you know...”
Thirteen pies, fourteen size.
“Missed me?”
Fifteen catechise.
“You tasted so good.”
Sixteen circumcise.
My hands were shaking and I crossed my arms in front of my chest to ignore it.
no matter how he tried
he could not break free
“Liar. Little liar. You still get hard, don’t you.”
Seventeen criticise.
“Me too.”
I jumped from the bed and hammered my fists against the door, shouting with all my might: “You, anyone!!! Thorazine, chlorpromazine, I don’t care, I beg you!!! PLEASE!!!”
I slammed my fists against the door, causing some sound which hushed the voice for as long as I did it. When my knuckles felt like cracking I had to stop.
“You can’t escape me.”
And the worms ate into his brain.
“EVEN HALOPERIDOL, FOR FUCK’S SAKE, JUST HELP ME!!!” I yelled and sank down, weakly scratching at the door in despair. Seldom, I had used the word ‘please’ in my life yet. I knew that it existed and that it was expected by many people, but I had other ways to get what I wanted. Now this was just one of these occasions when the tried and tested violence didn’t help anymore I would switch to begging.
I fell on my face when the door was opened and blinding light burned me. A prick in my upper arm told me that I had managed to convince them of my agony. With my eyes closed, I felt around for something, I needed something to hold on to.
The darkness which had followed me outside of the room and tried to drag me back into the shadows retreated to my legs.
Still searching for something solid, my mouth went dry and my fingers started twitching.
Dolazepine.
Eighteen dropwise.
With a sigh of relief, I gave in and relaxed.
Men with long white coats stood around me, gazing at me. I felt fine.
Exceptionally well, even.
When they lifted me up I smiled, thanking them.
“Our pleasure,” they replied in unison and handed me over to another room. There, my body and mind settled for the next 24 hours, blissfully unaware of themselves.
My pleasure.
Nineteen clockwise.
I spent the next 20 hours in delirium. Bricks, lines, triangles, a warm breeze, liquid, guilt, cats, wounds, wings...black wings.
When I opened my eyes again, I felt horrible. Upon my wish I was transferred to my room.
During the next few days, I recovered only slowly, still hallucinating. I was fed by a tube through my nose and had I just been able to control my limbs I had pulled it out immediately, but I spent that time in a haze, barely able to move anything at will.
Eventually, I returned to my former self, somewhat.
I spent the days lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, dancing an elusive dance around that man, trying to run without legs, shutting my ears to his siren song.
Thirty kilometres way, a worn-out man sat by a table, looking at the fruits, bread, marmalade, butter and coffee. Nothing could whet his appetite, no matter how exotic the fruits were and no matter how freshly the coffee had been grounded. He wouldn’t read the morning papers anymore.
He didn’t even try to conceal the dark rings under his eyes anymore.
He wouldn’t get dressed on such days anymore.
Hey you, out there on the road
always doing what you're told
One thought.
One single thought infecting his entire life at this moment, rendering sleep, peace and concentration impossible.
Listlessly, he took the steaming cup and swallowed down the coffee like some bitter sort of medicine. He knew that he wouldn’t wake up from this horrid coma that way, but he gave it a try though.
He propped his arm up on the table and put his chin in his hand, sighing.
He had to get him.
Can you help me?
My days weren’t getting brighter. In fact, all light disappeared, leaving behind a sticky, slick puddle of black bile in which I desperately tried to keep my head above the surface.
After two weeks I wished I had killed myself. Dreams, sounds and images haunted me in that cell and I was desperate enough to refuse any food or drinking.
After another three days, the head priest of Arkham visited me. Accompanied by two men with tranquilizer pistols, he entered the room and eyed me. I was just lying on the bed as always, staring at the wall, suffering from daydreams and hallucinations. Strangely enough, they had gotten worse after I had stopped eating.
“Why do you refuse to eat?”
He couldn’t seriously be expecting an answer to that and when he realized that I would not answer that silly question he left again.
Just two hours later they visited me again.
“Get up, your hands behind the back or we shoot you down.”
Sighing, I propped myself up, knowing that they would shoot if I didn’t comply and I hated that. I couldn’t stand being rendered immobile in that way because it was just hurting my pride. So I got up and gave them my hands and they cuffed me. With two warders and me in the middle we went down the aisle, passing other cells. When we turned left and I saw the sign next to the door I stopped and wanted to take a step back but they took my arms. Squirming and writhing, I tried to get some distance between that door and me, overwhelmed by emotions and flashbacks.
There wasn’t much I was afraid of and not much I really would show respect for, but that was one of those few things which gave me the creeps. Intimidated by their plan, I gasped and tried to break free but they pushed me into the room.
“Behave, or we’ll shoot!” one of them reminded me. I didn’t know what was worse.
Merciless hands forced me to lie down on that gurney; my hands were uncuffed just to be tied down again with straps. I did my best to hide my fear which had gotten so bad by now that I feared I’d piss my pants. When they pressed that disgusting gag between my teeth I freaked out, losing to the madness. Kicking and thrashing, I screamed against the rags in my mouth, but it was no use. They put the electrodes on my forehead and I clenched fists, dreading the next 10 minutes.
“Relax,” he said and switched it on.
Electricity frying my brains. Hot, searing pain replacing the blood in my veins.
I knew that we had made a lot of progress since the middle ages and there were relaxant agents which kept the body from convulsing, but they didn’t seem like having heard of that in Arkham yet. My wrists and ankles pressed against the straps, my teeth bit into the gag and my lungs refused to work any more.
He kept it up for some moments and then gave me a break during which I desperately tried to breathe normally again. The two guards bent down to look into my eyes.
“Step aside,” he told the keepers and they took a step back again.
I wanted to die. Sincerely, honestly, I wanted to die and I prayed for him to underestimate the voltage and kill me with it, finally. Though, he didn’t do me that favour and cooked the rest of my brain tissue crispy. When he turned the switch, I fell down on the plastic mat for the second time, my lungs collapsing and making me cough around the gag. I think he enjoyed that more than any wacko ever had enjoyed this.
Hey you
“Missed you,” someone whispered into my ear.
“Fasten your seatbelt, gentleman, we are ready for round 3,” I heard him making fun of me and pushed it down again.
I couldn’t go on any longer; everything inside seemed to boil and burst from strain and my head felt like it had molten and was dripping from the table anyway. When I was about to pass out he switched the machine off and I collapsed like a house of cards. My muscles were still twitching from that painful stimulation and my head was a throbbing mess anyway; misinterpreted signals making me see white spots and a black mist.
The gag was taken from my mouth and saliva dripped on my cheek. Shaking from pure distress, I tried to breathe but my body refused to come back to life. They freed me from the straps and heaved me into a wheelchair.
“Get him back to his cell.”
They drove me out of the room, towards my cell. Saliva trickled down my chin, but I couldn’t lift a hand to wipe it off. I couldn’t even move my little toe. That treatment was just so humiliating and they did nothing to make it any easier for one to stand.
Back in my cell, I was lifted and dropped on my bed. Since I hadn’t eaten anything for three days I had been spared the degradation of soiling my pants, though I had peed them. With their fingers clad in gloves, they pulled the pants off my body, ruthlessly wiped me dry and left then.
I was still facing difficulties in breathing, but I didn’t feel like choking anymore. My head felt like it was filled with millions of needles all poking my brain, outside and inside, in every blood vessel and all tissue area. The pain still let white spots dance across my vision and I cursed that bastard; I was sure that he had no clue what his treatment felt like nor what it would do to one.
Gasping for air, I turned to the side, my body feeling like two tons, needing two minutes to get the mass to move. I knew that feeling from when my body was still asleep but my mind awake and I tried to move, yet sleep paralysis giving me a hard time and almost making it impossible for me to move.
Finally lying on my side, I coughed again and closed my eyes. There was nothing more reasonable left to do than do nothing and just focus on existing till it would go away.
out there beyond the wall
I slept through the night, a dreamless sleep. When I woke up in the morning, only waking up because they switched on the blinding light, I groaned. The pain had slightly gotten better but it still was driving me mad. If that was the sense of it then I would have laughed, had I just been able to tense up a little.
___________
In the evening, the door of my cell was opened. I was lying on my side, staring at the wall in front of me, losing myself in hallucinations. I knew that scent. Dr. Nightcut.
I heard the man sitting down on a chair he had brought along and then the sound of paper touched.
“I’ve never seen you so depressed.”
That voice, although I had a hard time admitting that, was soothing me. He had always treated me with respect and showed interest in my thoughts. He was a psychiatrist, he was just doing his job, but he seemed to be a bit more intelligent than the rest of those brutes and I wasn’t picky.
Sighing, I propped myself up and after half a minute even managed to sit up, leaning against the wall and trying to find a spot in front of me at which I could safely stare without starting to feel sick.
“You tried to kill yourself. A coward thing to do,” he didn’t look up from the papers at all, “but it doesn’t suit you. I would like to understand your intentions, Mr. Border.”
He was up for games, but so was I, having recovered enough to be able to think again. During our first meetings I had decided on that name and he was the only one who called me by that. I knew that it was just some attempt of establishing trust but I granted him that; I liked that name.
“You’d like to understand, of course,” I replied, testing my voice. My throat ached. I was still pissed at him for dealing me that isolation matter.
He looked at me finally. Big glasses almost hiding his eyes.
“You understand that if you don’t start eating we will have to force feed you.”
That thought made me shiver but I tried to hide it. I’d find a way.
“Did you prescribe the electrotreatments?”
“Electroconvulsive therapy. No. You should know that by now. I don’t support such methods at all.”
“Not at all, yet you push me into a lightless cell with no sound or image and delight yourself in watching me going crazy, you darned asshole.”
“I tried to convince the head of not doing that, but my voice doesn’t count much around here.”
“Traitor, gave him the paper.”
breaking bottles in the hall
“I didn’t. He asked me what we had talked about and I told him that you would not consent on anything related to sensory deprivation treatments.”
“Sadistic bastard.”
“Though, I would like to know whether any of that helped you, Mr. Border.”
“Not at all,” I laughed but went silent immediately when I felt my ribcage hurting too much.
He noted something down, then looked at me again.
“See, Mr. Border, we just got one hour and I’d encourage you to talk about your problems to me so I can possibly help you or do something else for you.”
I was so tired of that, but he was just doing his job.
“As I told you, my father beat me with a belt. Very frequently.”
He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.
“This is not the reason why you tried to jump from the building.”
I laughed but it turned into coughing soon and I went silent again.
“To some extent, it might be. See, Mr. Nightcut, I have very deeply rooted daddy issues and it is very easy to trigger them.”
He scratched his chin and kept looking at me.
“Who triggered them?”
I cursed myself, having said too much already although I didn’t want to talk about that at all. I wanted to play, but that proved to be difficult with a head full of mush.
“A man?”
I gave a silly answer to buy me time. He sighed.
“Obviously.”
“He stole my lolly and left me standing in the rain.”
I forgot that he was an expert at psychoanalysis, otherwise I would have chosen my words more carefully.
“A big one?”
“Huge.”
“Did you ever have to perform fellatio on your father?”
I looked away and flexed my fingers.
“In fact, I was the one who asked my father to be allowed to suck him off.”
My own lies disgusted even me by now.
“Mr. Border,” he said, his voice reprimanding me, “I think you are not taking this as seriously as you should.”
“How seriously should I take this?”
“Very seriously.”
“Well then, sorry. How much time left?”
I could be a pain in the ass sometimes, but I really wasn’t up for spilling my heart to that man right now. I wasn’t up for anything other than disappearing from this earth.
He sighed another time.
“I see that you are not up for reasonable conversation today, Mr. Border. On the other hand, I can’t be angry with you after what has happened to you yesterday.”
With these words, he got up and was about to take the chair when I turned my head again and my expression slipped for a second.
Me. No facade hiding the pain, no faked smile concealing the despair, no mischievous look faking confidence.
He caught my unintentional cry for help and placed the chair on the floor again.
“Mr. Border”
Not more than my name and I felt understood. Though, I couldn’t tell him. And he got it.
“Can I get you something?”
For a moment, my body and my soul dissolved, consumed with the craving for a man I couldn’t reach anymore, but I swallowed it down, feeling my heart getting heavier and heavier.
“A black cloth,” I said with a strained voice, holding back the tears. Why couldn’t I just die. Why couldn’t I just lie.
He looked at me for a second, yes he didn’t even try to understand me, then he took the chair with him and closed the door.
About ten minutes later he returned with a black piece of cloth. It was a dish cloth. Wordlessly, I took it from his hands and he left again, the worry in his eyes having noticeably grown. Moved to tears, I lay down and huddled up to it. Meanwhile, the man left to bury himself in his office, writing down his observations and assumptions.
”Lack of appetite
Signs of apathy and regressive behaviour
Hypovigilance!!!
Asked for a black cloth, seems to take comfort in the darkness now
What is the object of darkness?
Who is the other Other?”
The next day, I didn’t wake up at all. I stayed in bed, oscillating between consciousness and dreams, longing.
Starving.
Dying.
I recalled those moments when he opened up to me and I could catch a glimpse of his mind behind those drunken eyes.
No doubts, no shame, no wrong. He had let me in while I had been so insecure, barely able to trust him but then, when he gently caressed my mind with his understanding and accepting eyes, I had become confident, opening up as well.
I could barely breathe.
The black cloth hugged tightly, I tensed up under the blanket, the pain tearing me apart. I needed something between me and that raw truth, that torturing fact. I trashed the blanket away and sat up.
“Guard!” I screamed as loudly as I could and repeated that until someone opened the door.
“You! Get that bastard of a shrink, the fat one, I need it badly! BADLY!!!” I yelled, got up on the bed and started hitting the wall with my head. I’d have to put on quite an act to be credible and get what I wanted but I was good at that. The guard left.
“MAMA GET ME HELP!!!” I screamed and just then heard some other lunatics throwing a fit as well, shouting and screaming.
Eventually, the guard returned with that bastard of a doctor just when my forehead was starting to bleed. When I saw him I stopped immediately. Sweating and panting, I jumped from the bed and fell down on my knees, looking up at him.
Can you help me?
“I felt so good after your treatment, I just couldn’t say it, but it’s wearing off, I need it again, please!”
I hated that man.
Smugly, he looked down at me and pursed his lips.
“Electroshock therapy?”
“Yes,” I breathed, feeling close to orgasm at hearing that word being pronounced by that nasty creature.
“I am glad it helped you so much. Get up and follow me.”
Like a good girl, I got up and left the room, the guards staring at me wide-eyed, never having seen me in such a state because usually, they had to force me, whatever it was.
Breathing heavily, I followed the white in front of me. No way out, but I didn’t want to escape at all. I just wanted it gone, the pain which ate up my soul and that pain which ate up my reason, leaving nothing but a drooling idiot behind.
The loons were still screaming to my left and right and I had to concentrate on following him, torn, attacked and distracted. When I entered the room a strange kind of calmness settled within me. Deliberately, I lay down and allowed them to fasten my wrists and ankles. White spread in front of my eyes and I felt lightheaded. I readily took the gag and relaxed.
The electrodes were put on my head again and he turned around to send me into oblivion.
Hey you,
don't tell me there's no hope at all
Blackness.
Sour, heavy blackness.
My body convulsed in pain which I didn’t feel anymore.
Light.
Warmth, light and heavenly peace pushed any other sensation aside. It was so much that I could barely take it. I had never felt anything as intense as that; these were feelings not made for human beings, too intense than to be endured by them.
Vast peace.
No wrong.
Absolute love.
I dissolved in perfection.
The man removed the electrodes and the gag. The body was lifted and carefully placed in a wheelchair, its feet put on the bars so they wouldn’t touch the ground.
After a short journey through cold air, it was moved into a small room where strong hands lifted it up again.
Its head lifelessly hung down, its arms and legs as well. Carefully, they spread them on the fresh linen and pulled the blanket up to its chest. No movement.
A single tear streamed down the reddish cheek. The veinlets had burst under the pressure and spilt the blood into the surrounding tissue.
Dying.
Starving.
Bleeding, for love.

Together we stand, divided we fall.

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Black Diamonds