[Nathan Havelock]

Lighthouse

Their latest addiction to the psychiatric ward had come straight from a self-injury incident that had been taken care of in the emergency department of a general hospital. They’d transferred him pretty much instantly once the nature of his metahuman abilities had been identified. There was quite an extensive record of Mr. Brian Harris on the system detailing a recent stay in a residential psychiatric ward with diagnoses of depression, anxiety and schizophrenia. It seemed that his abilities had actually manifested quite quickly after the Event – before the MNRU had been established. He’d violently broken out after a while and gone missing for some time… until his recent appearance in casualty.

Nate had frustratingly little time to go through all the records as thoroughly as he would have liked, but that seemed to always be the case in medicine. So much paper work, not enough time to actually do any of it. Still, this was just an initial meeting that he’d been asked to do so that they could gather a better picture of Brian’s needs and preferences, and he was all too happy to try and make the young man as comfortable as one could possibly be in a metahuman psychiatric ward.

Sky had mentioned him to Nate. She’d read his mind and heard other voices, her ability no doubt tapping into the features of Brian’s schizophrenia. He wondered whether the outcome of the encounter had been positive or negative for him… or perhaps a mix of the two.

He knocked on the door to Brian’s room, waiting either for an invitation to enter or just long enough that he wouldn’t appear to be barging in. Nate entered slowly, a gentle smile on his face as he regarded the young man before him, and pulled the door shut behind him.

“Mr. Harris? Brian?” he offered breezily. “My name’s Dr. Havelock. I’m a resident psychiatrist and neurologist here at the MNRU.”

He indicated a free seat, “May I?”

Brian’s room was similar in design to Sky’s – clean and modern, but impersonal and clinical. It was obviously all rounded edges and calming design; an obviousness that was blatant and almost blunt in its application. However, the facility was a much nicer one than previous places Nate had worked in, and he supposed clean and clinical was better than damp, dingy and unsafe.

“It’s great to meet you.” He glanced down at his notes. “I see you’ve come to us straight from the ER. How are you feeling?”

Brian Harris

416 words

ψ

[Brian Harris]

Buzzing. Buzzing, buzzing, buzzing, like a fly inside his mind. It hurt. He wasn’t unfamiliar with this feeling. It means all the alcohol had worn off, the Haldol was coming out of his system. He was waking up. And it hurt. It hurt so fucking much. He sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, his leg bouncing up and down furiously. And the voices…

”It’s so booooooring in here, let’s get ooooout of here c’moooooon!”

”You dumbass, you idiot. You hurt that girl the other night, you scared her! You monster!”

”This clothing is disgusting. How can you bear to wear it? Simply feel it itching. Feel it.”

”They can read your mind. The sky is cloudy. They are coming to hurt you. Your hair is blond.”

They were a cacophony. An endless cacophony, talking over each other, around each other, arguing with each other. Annoying, negative, hurtful, scary. They’d been increasing exponentially ever since he woke up.

Breakfast was alright. He didn’t see Sky so he sat by himself. Half a banana was all he could muster to eat. He wasn’t anorexic. He’d sometimes been given that diagnoses by lazy doctors who'd only bothered to look at what he’d eaten. His appetite had always simply been astronomically small, even smaller when in a new environment without medication and anxiety cranked up to eleven. Of course, with all his muscles, his poor eating habit was all but invisible.

As the day went on, that buzzing had increased, getting louder and louder. It wasn’t a hallucination. It was metaphorical. It was the only way he could describe what was happening to his brain. It was his thoughts coming undone. Buzzing, buzzing, buzzing…

He snapped his head up as he heard a knock on the door. An elongated, high pitched squeal emerged from from Clara as soon as the man entered the room.

”OMG! He’s so cuuuuuuute!!!!!

”He looks alright I suppose.” High praise from Sasha.

Brian did have to admit he found the man attractive, which made him feel extra self-conscious of the bandage on his wrist, but that whole thought was stupid so he stopped thinking it. Especially when he learned the man was his psychiatrist. Although he certainly didn't forget about the bandage.

He nodded shakily at Dr. Havelock’s request to sit down. Room visits. Interesting. They usually had offices. Doesn’t matter. He was a psychiatrist. Which meant one thing.

”Drugs, I need drugs.” He blurted out. "Seroquel, Abilify, Thorazine, Lithium, Lamotrigine, Klonopin, Valium, Propranolol, even a goddamn SSRI, I don’t care just give me something!” He bit his lip, suddenly overcome with embarrassment at his outburst. ”I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I just...I need medication. Please. P-preferably Haldol. Please." He added sheepishly. He held his head in his hands again. ”Before I hurt someone. Please.”

[Nathan Havelock]

Lighthouse

The young man leapt straight to the point. Nate noted immediately, with great interest, that Brian was more than capable of making his needs known and understood. The list of drugs that followed his request spoke volumes of the man’s long history of psychiatric treatment, Nate listening intently as Brian continued to speak. He stopped abruptly, biting his lip in shame, before apologising hurriedly.

“No need to apologise Brian, it’s important that we get this sorted as quickly as possible. I wouldn’t leave a physically handicapped person without their mobility aid and your medication is no different. Have you taken anything recently? Haldol, I assume?”

Nate was reluctant to prescribe him Haldol considering the common side effects and the presence of more appropriate alternatives; he was currently trending towards trying some quetiapine – another MNRU patient who had since been discharged had presented similarly to Brian Harris, with a similar medical history, and she’d responded well to Seroquel. It would remain to be seen whether he could be parted from his apparently favoured Haldol, Nate supposed.

“Hey, you’re not gonna hurt someone. You’re in pretty much the safest place in San Francisco. And we will get this sorted as soon as possible, okay?”

Nate ducked his head down, trying to catch Brian’s gaze as he sat with head in hands. The bandage on Brian’s arm stood as a permanent reminder of the reason for Brian’s admission. He wondered if Brian was so focused on not hurting others that he failed to recognise himself as a victim, or whether it was simply that he felt he deserved it. In any case, not something to be bringing up right at this point when the poor man was feeling vulnerable and unmedicated.

“Is there anything else you need? Did you manage to get some breakfast this morning?”

Brian Harris

303 words

ψ

[Brian Harris]

”OMG he’s so nice too OMG!” Clara squealed.

God damn it he was nice, which meant Clara was going to fawn over him even more. And the others...

”Look at him, pandering to you. Walking eggshells around you.”

”What a fraud.”

”There are bad doctors. He is a doctor. Therefore, he could be a bad doctor.”

They weren’t much better.

”Y-yes, I took Haldol.” He admitted. ”I don’t remember the exact dose.” Which was only partially a lie. Whenever he stole the medication, he didn’t keep track of the dosage. All he could remember was, ”It was a lot.” He bit his lip. ”It kept me sedated. Dead. I want to be…” He trailed off, realizing exactly where that sentence was heading.

He took a deep breath. ”I didn’t...I ate a little I don’t-I don’t eat much. I’ve never eaten...much.” That was more than an understatement, but it would have to suffice. He often got made fun of how skinny he was when he was a kid. It led him to be relatively self-conscious about his appetite.

”It-I have to ask.” He started, looking at the doctor.

”You’re gonna say something stupid, aren’t you.”

He shook his head, as if he could shake the voices away. He’s tried many times but never succeeded, yet he still tries, there’s nothing else he can do. ”I-How will you contain me? How will you…” He enlarged the muscles in his arm. ”How will you stop this, specifically?” He shrunk it back down. ”Please tell me. Please.”

”Enhanced Quiet Room?”

”Ooh, maybe a super special booty dart.”

”Four point.”

”Maybe they’ll finally put you in a straightjacket, where you belong.”

He shook his head again, trying to wipe it of unpleasant imagery, somehow only making it worse. What if they did did have...extreme restraints. This is a place for metahumans after all. He didn’t know the protocols, he was in unfamiliar territory. He felt his anxiety levels rising, hoping the doctor wouldn’t notice his increased breathing and rapidly quickening leg.

[Nathan Havelock]

Lighthouse

Okay, another point in the “let’s-not-prescribe-Haldol” column. “And how long ago did you take that, Brian? A rough guess is okay.”

Brian was being surprisingly open with him so far. Nate was trying not to push it but he also couldn’t help but feel relief that Brian was at least providing him with the basic details that he was asked for. Everything about the man seemed to scream to Nate that his every breath was a plea for help, a desperation to feel secure and safe in his own body. The fact that he actively wanted help was a great start and Nate wanted to keep that alive as long as he could.

He gave Brian a steady, non-judgemental but even look as the sentence faded away. They both knew where it had been heading and Nate made sure to catch his eye for that. He was acknowledging it, Brian knew he was acknowledging it, but he wasn’t about to make the guy expand on it. Not yet.

“You’ll probably be visited by a dietician at some point while you’re here,” Nate informed him as Brian began to explain his eating habits. The man was well-built – tall and muscular in a way that didn’t suggest a poor diet – but that didn’t mean he was getting the right nutritional intake. Especially considering the nature of Brian’s power. “It’s great that you’ve eaten a little – we need to make sure you’re getting enough to support your recovery, okay?”

Suddenly Brian was looking at him, a question tumbling from his lips.

Nate registered with internal alarm that his patient’s clinical presentation was shifting to a more anxious state. He pondered Brian’s question, giving the young man the respect of actually considering his answer before speaking as calmingly as he could manage.

“It’s my hope that we won’t need to reactively ‘stop’ you. We’ll take a proactive approach to treatment that should eliminate that need. I can reassure you that this is an entirely secure facility – there are plenty of systems in place should they be needed. A fair amount of money has been thrown at this place,” Nate added wryly, smirking a little at the candid way he was speaking. “If you need a more personalised set-up, we can work that out together. For now, I’m going to get you some medication as quickly as possible and hopefully that will go some way in managing that anxiety of yours.”

He smiled softly, nodding his head gently in the direction of Brian’s juddering leg.

Brian Harris

420 words

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[Brian Harris]

”Um...um...um…” He wracked his brain, trying to figure out exactly what happened in the days leading up to his attempt. Time was a blur for him, it has been for years, but even more than that, he can’t seem to think of the past, he can’t seem to think about anything without his brain sliding away to something altogether without him realizing it. ”Um...days ago, I was on the street, there was...alcohol and sometimes it tasted like fish.” He finally came up with, unaware that anything he said might have said anything odd.

Brian caught that look. He knew what it meant. There was no judgement in that look but he must thinking it. He knew that Brian was

”an insect a tiny little"

”stupid son of a bitch can’t take care of himself can’t”

”function properly in society does not know how to socialize"

”or make any friends poor baby Brian has to have people around to stop him from hurting himself”

”or others.”

Or others. Or others...No he can’t think about her head, her head, half of her head, less than half, no. What if he could read his thoughts? That’s why they sent him to him. It must be. No. No. That’s irrational. That’s ir-ration-al. Irrigation. Irration. To ration out irrigation. Is that where that word came from? He barely comprehended the doctor’s words about his diet. ”It’s fine.” He replied, his eyes glazed over.

It was his reply to Brian’s concern about restraints that caught his attention. It was a non-answer. He didn’t tell him what they’d do to stop him. They didn’t tell him. It must be really bad if they weren’t telling him. It would be a surprise. Maybe it was already in his mind. Did they plant a chip to neutralize him, to monitor him? He honestly kind of hoped they did.

”Personalized set-up.” He repeated. He didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded ominous. Did they know he was coming? Were they ready for him? How many files did they have on him?

The doctor seemed too confident, like he could cure Brian. ”You dont, you don’t, you don’t understand,” he started, trying desperately to keep his thoughts on track, ”things don’t work, things, things, things, I need a lot for it to stop. With eight sides. You can’t cure, I’m not, I’m stuck like, like in sand. You just need to keep me. Contain me. With a blue tupperware lid. I’m not, I’m no, there’s no hope. You can sedate, sen-a-date, sedate, sorry, sedate. But I just need to know I can’t, can’t, can’t…” he couldn’t find the word, it kept escaping him, “cause blood.” He landed on.

”Sorry.” He mumbled with his head down, still unaware he might have said anything particularly strange, but aware that he was having trouble keeping his thoughts straight. ”Sorry, thank you, sorry.”