THE MIND'S EYE By: Fallen Angel

            He sat in the cold hard chair of the empty dreary room, placing his paperwork on the steel gray desk. He settled himself comfortably, then looked upon her.

            She stared back at him vacantly, those dark eyes seeming like endless pools of oblivion, lacking all vitality and verve. All emotion had been drained from those ebony orbs, all vigor and animation, leaving her to be a mindless and almost mechanical being.

            She had been heavily sedated.

            She sat limply, head leaning flaccidly to the right, mouth slightly ajar. A transparent stream of saliva slid down her dried and cracked crimson lips, eyelids drooping over those dark disturbing eyes. She was bound in a tan straight jacket, arms secured tightly behind her back in the leather restrains.

            "Hello, Tina."

            Her gaze remained on him, sitting perfectly still and having absolutely no reaction to his greeting. He began to wonder why they had given her astonishing amounts of the sedatives for now she would have no will to speak. How was he to understand and help her if she could not even communicate with him?

He gazed at her once again, finding her position to be quite unnerving. They had told him what she had done and the way she had acted when they brought her in and it astounded him that such a young and vibrant woman could be capable of such horror.

'She was powered by utter anger,' Doctor Hemmingway, a well-respected neurologist, had told him, 'She was uncontrollable, it took seven nurses to pin her onto the bed, not even including those who had given the drugs and run the tests.'

'What's her prognosis?'

'As of right now,' The doctor sighed, shaking his head. 'We're unsure. She has displayed intense abnormal compulsive behavior, schizophrenia and obvious homicidal and suicidal intentions. She lapses in and out of these…phases.'


The doctor nodded. 'Several different states of consciousness, some showing massive displays of severe psychosis while others showing normal conduct. One minute she'll be ranting and raving furiously, screaming in several different dialects and languages, and the next she'll be abnormally still and calm, whispering over and over to herself.'

'Has she communicated with you properly?'

He shook his head. 'She refuses to. Jesus Christ Mark, we've got the whole god damned city outside claiming that she is possessed by the devil!' 

            "Tina," He said softly, leaning towards her and resting his arms on the table, "I need you to listen to me. My name is Mark and I'm here to help you."

            She continued to stare at him indifferently as she closed her mouth, the spittle descending onto her lap. She slowly craned her neck upright, her cold dark eyes boring into him, short dark hair astray all around her. She was horribly pallid and ashen, almost sickly to the point where it appeared as if she hadn't eaten or slept in several days.

            "There we go," He smiled warmly, "That's better." The blank look remained on her fair features as she swallowed hard.

            "Can you speak to me?"

            She nodded slowly, almost as if she was struggling to do so. "Only when they let me." She murmured, her voice coarse and rasping, probably due to her previous earsplitting screaming.

            "Who are they?" He inquired.  "Why do they withhold you from speaking?"

            She shrugged her shoulders, her left eye twitching slightly. "They don't want me talking to certain…people."

            "Ok," He nodded reassuringly. He could now see the apparent schizophrenia that the doctor had told him of. A slight pause overwhelmed them, silent and unsettling.

            "Have you ever felt obscure, Mr. Mark?" She asked, breaking the silence and cocking her head to the side. He narrowed his eyes slightly in curiosity.

            "Have you ever felt like you were normal but you have this darkened corner within yourself that you never wanted to reach? A place where you knew you were capable of everything and anything you wanted yet you feared it?"

            He remained silent, letting her speak.

            "I've felt that way, I've felt obscure." She continued, dark eyes prying into his. "We're all crayons in a big Crayola box called Earth, Mr. Mark. Some of us are blue, some of us are green and some of us are hot pink. Guess what color I am?" She asked with a maniacal giggle, raising her slender dark eyebrows.

            "What color are you, Tina?" He asked, blue eyes remaining narrowed.

            "I bet you're thinking black, aren't you? Everyone assumes that." She responded. "Well I am gray, Mr. Mark. I am the obscure color between black and white. I am the purgatory between heaven and hell."

            "Why do you say that?"

            "Because of them." She muttered contemptuously. "They make me feel that way, they make me feel obscure."


            She didn't respond, her eyes wandering manically around the room, as if she could see things that were invisibly surrounding them, hovering over them like dark shadows. She smiled, a full set of pearly white teeth beaming in the dim light, looking upwards as if she was grinning at someone. Mark simply observed her, studying her every move.

            Her dark eyes fell back onto him, her almost indistinguishable pupils dilating broadly. The frightening smile remained smeared across her lips, her head slightly tilted to the side.

            "Tu nao queres ir ao eu estive, senior Mark. Tu nao queres ser mim." She said softly, her voice flowing smoothly over the words. Spanish, or maybe Portuguese? He couldn't tell; they were almost the same.

            You don't want to go where I have been, Mr. Mark. You don't want to be me.

            She laughed hysterically, tossing her head back madly. She then fell into an abrupt silence as her head suddenly hung lifelessly backwards. She remained dreadfully soundless, her blank eyes remaining wide open.

            Well here was one of the phases the doctor was speaking of.

            He sighed anxiously, setting his jaw, a knot beginning to form in his stomach. This was bad, real bad. She has been one of the worst cases he has seen, and he has seen very many in his years. These days, it didn't really happen anymore…

            …but it was still there, it will always be there.

            She swung her head frontward, snapping forward roughly as it hung over her chest, her hair draping over it like a thick dark curtain. Her head swayed slowly from side to side as she began to hum softly, chillingly, hauntingly. He leaned back in his chair, apparently apprehensive about all of her actions, bringing his hand up to his chin in thought.

            She is only in the beginning stages of it. If she isn't treated soon, she will become much more worse and there will be no telling what she will do and what she will be capable of.

            Instantaneously, almost at the unheard resonance of his thoughts, her head lifted, hair flipping backwards in a swift fluid motion. Her ebony eyes had vanished, rolling into the back of her head as two terrifyingly broad white orbs glared back at him, her fair face twisting into a horrendously mocking sneer. His blue eyes widened in horror as she spoke to him, her voice distorted into a booming thunderous roar.

            "Frosila wuhraiu krif ja! Isila corutchu benvenia!"

            He gawked at her, completely appalled as her head drooped over her chest, hanging limply and swinging disturbingly once again. He stood up promptly, deciding that he has had enough as he grabbed his paperwork cautiously, eyes remaining locked onto her. Her head rose again at the sound of the metallic scraping of his chair on the floor, her dark irises back in their rightful place, eyelids drooping over them once again.

            "Mr. Mark?" She asked drowsily, her voice returning to its normal rasping, "Where are you going?"


            He stepped out of the room, hand clamped over his forehead, paperwork held tightly to his chest. A figure approached him, a young man in his mid-twenties as he looked up at the young man, his eyes solemn and filled with dread. He let his hand fall from his cranium as he handed the young one his paperwork, giving him a tight nod of acknowledgement.

            "What of the patient, Reverend?" The man inquired in trepidation, knowing fully well what the answer would be as they both began to head down the hall. Several nurses rushed into the room as her screaming pierced the air, blocked out by the slam of the door behind them.

            "She is positive," He replied nervously, obviously troubled by what he had seen. "We shall carry out the procedure, she is to be treated as soon as possible."

            "Will you be-"

            "Yes," He interrupted firmly, a flare of confidence in his pale eyes.

            "I will be carrying out the exorcism."

            TO BE CONTINUED…

            AN: Hey all! What'd ya think? This was floating around in my head, so I had to write this little piece, lol, it kept taking my concentration off of the next part of Redemption. Think its good enough to be continued? Be honest!!! Thanks again guys, lemme know what ya think!