Chew Story
Matthew Ryan Fischer
Colby was trapped in a white room with padded floors and padded
walls. It was good thick padding. He knew. He had pushed and pressed into it
enough to know. It was tough, but not too tough. Not soft enough for comfort
though. There was no sink or stove or access to television. At one point he had
had a pillow and a bed. The bed went first, but he got to keep the pillow for a
long time. Sometimes he slept on it for comfort and sometimes he slept with it
beside him with his arms wrapped around it for a different sort of comfort. He
knew it wasn’t a real person next to him, but sometimes when he was half
asleep, his mind didn’t really know the difference, and he just felt better.
Colby wasn’t bound, but at one point he had been. Someone had to
clean him and care for him and feed him. He felt sorry for the people that took
care of him, even though he didn’t know their names. It was a thankless task.
Colby was able to feed himself now. He was allowed private restroom privileges
too, although he suspected that he was still monitored even though no one was
in the room with him. He assumed he was monitored at all times, even though he
couldn’t see the cameras. He knew cameras could be so small they couldn’t even
be detected. He didn’t know why anyone would want to monitor him, but they
seemed to know everything, so someone must have been watching.
Colby took pills. He took all sorts of
pills. They had given him injections, but now he took pills. Lots and lots of
different colors and shapes and sizes. There was one that he had trouble
swallowing, but that was more because of its taste than because of its size.
Colby used to chew his nails. He would
chew his nails and the skin around them. His fingers always looked like a mess.
Sometimes he would chew them down to the nub. He had made himself bleed several
times. Once he had pulled on a piece of skin and felt like he hit a nerve.
He wasn’t sure why he thought of that.
It had been years since he was a compulsive nail chewer, and yet, the thought
had come flooding back.
He wondered how long he had been in
the room. He wondered how long he would have to stay. They didn’t talk to him.
He thought they might. He thought they should. But they didn’t. They gave him
pills and didn’t talk to him.
He would have to remember to talk to
them the next time someone came. He wanted to know how long he had to be here.
He wanted to know if he was ever going to see the light of day again. If there
was something wrong with him, shouldn’t he know what it was? For all the pills
he was taking, it sure didn’t seem like there was much wrong with him. He
didn’t have outbursts. He didn’t think he had crazy thoughts. There were no
hallucinations as far as he could tell. But why weren’t they talking to him?
And why was he taking so many pills?
Maybe there was something wrong with
him.
He worried about that a lot.
What was wrong with him? Was it inside
him? Could it be cured? Was he being fixed? How would he know? Maybe he should
be proactive. Maybe he should be doing something more to fix himself and not be
so reliant on the drugs.
He wanted to bite his fingers. His
fingernails. He meant his fingernails. He didn’t know why he thought of his
fingers.
He had read about ancient
cannibalistic cultures that ate the flesh of their enemies to gain their life force,
their power. He looked at his fingers. Did he hold any power? Was there
something in there?
Why was he trapped? Was there
something inside him? What was it? Was it evil? Did it need to be destroyed?
Did it need to be let out?
What if there was evil inside him? He
needed to purify himself, cleanse his soul. That was what was holding him back.
That was why he was trapped. That was the problem – the evil inside. That was
what needed to go. His hand held all the evil and it needed to go.
Colby bit down. He bit down hard and drew blood. It was such sweet
tender release. He instantly felt so much better. But there was still work to
be done. There was still plenty he had to chew through.
Elsewhere in the room full of monitors, one man turned to the
other.
“That’s interesting. Haven’t seen that reaction before. Better
write it down.”
The other man checked the monitor and the room number and wrote
down a few notes. “Think we should stop him?”
“Not yet. We have to see where this goes.”
“What’s he taking anyway?”
“Placebos.”
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