Krieger Institute

After endless hours in my office I’ve spooled through my journals and scientific notes. I’ve replayed all the footage from the trial room and listened to the audio recordings and vital charts on the tracker over and over. Everything pointed to this long term experiment being a disaster. My team of consulting scientists thought it was all too soon; that I should’ve increased his medication we were using on him and worked closer towards integration first.

I created the Krieger Institute from the ground up without any federal or local assistance for people with mental disorders like him. These victims of their individual traumas and psyches have untapped potential I’ve seen emerge as special skills unique to each patient.

The fact that he was able to survive on a college campus and build relationships in a couple years despite his psychosis and its special abilities was a successful trial of its own. After Canaan’s reckless acts and the most recent attempt on Damon’s mother’s life, I have Damon back where he belongs- behind the institute’s walls where I can mesh his altars and their abilities to make him one of many super soldiers like I originally intended. After a week of unconsciousness, Damon was waking up. He’ll be having his first appointment back with me after breakfast where he and Garret will be going over their experiences and our plans.

Sitting in the monitor room, I watched all of my patients through the security cameras. Just after dawn on a Monday morning, some of them were starting to wake up. Breakfast was at 8 o’ clock and it will be the first day meeting their peers for some of the patients.

I then turned my attention to Lynn and Freja’s room. Lynn’s file was very intriguing. I’ll be observing her closely during her stay and can’t wait to meet her and learn about her friend, Higanbana. It looks like things are going to be quite interesting around here with our new patients. A smile ticked at the corner of my mouth, eager to see how things will pan out.

I awoke with the first rays of sun, as I often did; I preferred to wake that way, finding it easier to rise, although it was a little more difficult in the winter months, when daylight took so much longer to peek through the blinds. Today, though, dawn was early enough, and I lay awake for a long moment, enjoying the feeling of warm bedsheets and a dappling of sunlight across my cheeks, before I built up the self-encouragement to climb out of bed.

This was an excellent job opportunity - a better start to my career than I possibly could have hoped for - and I was determined to make the very best of it I could. That started here and now. I dressed quickly, ensuring that my hair was neatly tied up and my attire as perfectly presentable as it could be. My necklace was safely tucked against my skin and beneath my clothing, where it couldn't be seen or grabbed, but where it lay as a permanent reminder of the vows I'd made.
With my own preparations for the day complete, I turned to check whether my roommate was awake.

It was strange to have a roommate again, but I hoped we'd get along well enough. I hoped I'd be able to help her, and everyone else here; that was the reason I'd become a nurse, after all, to help people.
"Good morning, Miss Lynn," I greeted her; in the morning quiet, even my soft voice seemed rather loud.

"Aha hahaha!
Well, well, well… If it isn’t our whore mother finally come to show her support!"

"Where did he get the gun?" "Everybody out!" "Someone call the police!"
Children are screaming.
Gunshots. Cackles.

"Dam– Canaan! Get back here!"

"Sweet, sweet retribution…"

"That’s enough of that, young man."
Darkness falls.

I wake up covered in sweat in a cold, stale room staring at a white spackled ceiling. The room is spinning and my head’s pounding like a bad hangover but I don’t drink. Alcohol just makes things hazy all over again. As I catch my breath, I try to sit up and fail. Looking at my sides, I see my wrists are bound to the sides of the bed with padded cuffs. Panic fills my lungs again and I look to my right and see Garret asleep in a bed.

The fear left on an exhale: “Garret, help!”

With a snort, he awoke and scrubbed his eyes to stare at me laying on the bed. He hesitated to get up, “How do I know it’s really you this time?” he inquired with skepticism.

Confused and a little disappointed that he had to ask, I gave him our safeword, “Lighthouse.”

He blew out a breath in relief, “Oh, thank god.”

Garret scrambled over and unbuckled the cuffs, relieving the pressure on my wrists. As I sat up, he gently wrapped his arms around me. Since the moment I met him a few years ago, he has always been my lighthouse, my shelter from the storm that brews in my busy mind and the world around me. The headache was beginning to subside and I rubbed my wrists.

“What happened? Where are we?” I asked him. I looked around the room, deducing this wasn’t our dormitory. The walls were bare, there was no desk, and the small window was barred giving it the impression of a prison cell.

He pulled away, his eyes focused on my hands like he couldn’t quite look at me yet. He gulped and finally looked me in the eyes and returned my question with one he asks often after a switch, “What do you remember?”

I turned my eyes back to him, remembering the dream I had. “Just flashes. We were at my graduation and I was in line to receive my diploma. And then I… I saw her. Oh, Garret, I didn’t kill my mom did I?”

Dread crept through me, sending shivers down my spine and fresh sweat beading my brow. I never had a good relationship with my mother or any relationship for that matter. She may have enabled all the pain my father put us through, she may have publicly disowned me, but that doesn’t mean I ever wanted her dead.

“No! No, Damon. A man stopped Canaan before he could hurt anybody. Dr. Reder was with your mother with his guards. He tasered Canaan with enough volts to knock out a horse. He said he was your caseworker and needed to bring you back to the institute before he or any other alters caused another scene.”

Bile rose in my mouth, the taste and the thought of being back in this place making me sick. I gulped it back down and held Garret’s hands tighter. He must've noticed my face pale and continued, “I insisted that I either go with you or he’s not taking you anywhere. I’m going to get you the help you need, Damon.”

I shut my eyes, blinking back visions of my years here. I remember so many different drugs they made me take orally and intravenously. Dr. Reder never truly explained how they would help or what they did. He claimed they would target my prefrontal cortex and the amygdala or some other medical Latin I didn’t understand. I remember strapped to a chair with sensors and wires and someone injecting some sort of serum into my bloodstream. He was forcing a switch. Day after day I was strapped in there and by the time I woke up, I was back in a padded cell with no recollection of what happened other than my body felt like a battered rag doll.

My gaze focused on his hands, still trying to process how this could happen. How could he bring me back here? “Garret, I can’t be here. I don’t know what Dr. Reder is up to but,” my gaze went back to his, “he can’t be trusted.”

I woke with a sudden ache to my body. Thinking to myself,
how I missed my bed. The thought made me chuckle as I shifted slightly.
It was my first day here, I mean I arrived yesterday to get acquainted
with my roommate. Reaching my hand out, I felt my fingers drag
again along something. It wasn't what I was looking for though.
Finally I felt my fingers touch the rims of my glasses. Grunting I grabbed
them carefully and pulled them to my face. Opening my eyes and smudging
my finger under the lenses to rub at my now closed eyes.
I felt bad, I wished I had more time yesterday to get to know Scoty.
This was all still new to me. Last I recalled working for any nursing homes
we never actually roomed with the patients thank god. But ... this wasn't a
nursing home I told myself. Still, in my head rooming with patients seemed
a bit odd and surely something I'd have to accept and get use to.
Last thing I remembered from yesterday was practicling slaving over the
finale paperwork, meeting Scoty for a second and then having to apologize
for bumping into some other nurse. It was allot, but hey that was the game
I thought.

Sitting up, I reached my arms back and stretched with a sigh. Moving the
sheets off me and shifting my legs so I could hang them over the edge of the bed.
"Morning", I said. Though my vision was still hazed from just waking up.
I could make out the shape of Scoty. Not sure if they were awake or not.
I started running the more important thoughts through my head. Like Scoty's
files and what I needed to know so I could care for him or help him as his new
nurse. I couldn't get any information from yesterday about Scoty's old nurse.
Or how long Scoty had been here either, so I didn't have a straight path on how to
act with the other besides professionally. I figured they're be some sure fire bumps
along the way but I was determined to at least get solid ground. It made me wonder
what happened to Scoty's old nurse, or did he ever actually have one to begin with.

Another goal I thought of was maybe asking some of the other nurses for tips.
Anything that could help me out on my first day. I felt more like an outsider
than I wanted to be right now ....

Standing finally, I glanced over at the clock to check the time. "So Scoty, what
are you looking forward to today"? I figured I'd check in on his plans.
Had to admit the place seemed filled with all sorts of stuff. And, since I wasn't
given a clear idea of what Scoty liked besides the basics; reading, dancing, music,
specifical classical. No one told me where he enjoyed doing this things and at what
time of day. Of course not during the scheduled activities but outside of that ....
The last patient I ever remember working with had a beyond strict schedule do
to their level of autism. Nothing could be out of line. Nothing in Scoty's files
mentioned a strict schedule, so I'm hoping one mishap wouldn't send the man
into some hysterical tantrum on the floor. Then again recalling his file and diagnoses
I figured that wouldn't be his likely outcome, but I kept it as a possibility.

I made my bed up, brushed out the wrinkles and moved away so I could go towards
the window. Drawing back the plain white curtains, allowing for more sun.
Squinting a little form the ray of light that flared against my glasses. God I hared my
glasses sometimes. I finally took a look back at Scoty, blinking several times.

I looked into the big pools of Damon’s auburn eyes begging me to whisk him away from here. I did this without talking to him first for his safety and the safety of those around him.

“Garret, I can’t be here. I don’t know what Dr. Reder is up to but,” he said, “he can’t be trusted.”

In the few years that I’ve known him, I've gotten to know most of his alters as well. There was Mikah, a perpetual six-year-old and social butterfly, asking endless questions and looked up to me as his role model. There was the troublemaker, Canaan. Damon once told me Canaan is two years older than him and used to protect him from his abusive parents. Somewhere along the line he became a rebellious sadist. Then there was Ana, the nurturing mother figure who considers Damon and all the alters his children, even the mysterious Baza. I’ve only met him once. He is an inhuman beast and an enigma I’m still trying to figure out.

In the one week I’ve been at this institute, I was given an unusually quick training for my position as his caretaker. I did some research on Damon’s mental illness. From what I read, there’s no cure for dissociative identity disorder. So when I went over everything with Dr. Reder, he said his team was working on a breakthrough drug that could merge all the alters so all that would be left is Damon. I found it hard to believe but at this point I had no choice but to trust the good doctor.

He also said that he understood Damon’s isolated treatment he went through was the wrong course of action. He was confident being with the other patients so he could grow and learn more about them and himself would help him reach his own sense of self.

I took my hand off his and gently ran my knuckles along his cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t get your opinion on this. But after the stunt Canaan pulled last, legally this is our only option. I’ll make sure you get the right treatment and I’ll be with you every step of the way this time. I promise.”

His eyes shone with doubt. I wish I knew what happened last time he was here. “Why don’t you go wash up. I’ll braid your hair and then we’ll check out what they have for breakfast.”

I just finished getting washed up from my morning run around the perimeter of this institute’s property. The exhilaration of the brisk morning air was almost as good as a fresh cup of coffee. After a quick shave, I brushed my teeth and ran gel through my hair wanting to look presentable for our residents.

Growing up, I spent my life fighting my brothers for scraps of food, clothes, and attention from our parents. My father suffered severely from PTSD and my mother used alcohol to treat her bipolar depression. While my brothers stayed with their friends, and kept busy with their sports, I stayed at home cleaning house or reading my books, keeping my grades up so I can go to college on a full scholarship.

I wanted to help those with diseases like my parents, to give them a chance at a normal, or at least functional, life without their mental illnesses. I spent six years in medical school and practicals preparing for a place like this. I can start giving these patients a treatment towards that lease on life they’ve been so depraved of.

Last night I read over the files for the current in-patients checked into the institute. They all seem to be young adults who have suffered some sort of trauma in their childhood or were picked up because of their peculiar psychosis. Some of them already have their assigned caretakers who would monitor them and be there for them however needed. This is the first place I’ve heard of that has the nurses board with the patients. Aside from the safety risk, I can see the merits for Dr. Reder’s concept. This way the patients always have someone to rely on for emotional and medical support, someone they can hopefully call a friend in a place like this.

I straightened my tie, put on my glasses, and went to look out the window before leaving my room. The sun was shining brightly behind a few clouds, but darker clouds were moving in from the west. I could tell this would be a very interesting day today.

Today I will be meeting Lynn Gushiken and her nurse Freja Appleton. According to Lynn’s file, she suffers from schizophrenia and believes she is constantly accompanied by a demonic spirit named Higanbana. There was nothing in her file about her past or if there are any risks I should be aware of. Not two schizophrenics are the same so I’m curious how the meeting will go. Taking my lab coat from the coat hanger by the door, I locked my bedroom behind me and headed toward the cafeteria. With a deep breath, I was ready to start the day and meet all the patients.

This wasn't my home. The walls were white; the bedclothes were a little too stiff; the air tasted of chemicals used to clean. I couldn't see out of the window from my bed.
I could hear the birdsong, though, the morning chorus ringing in the new day, and I rose, drifting towards the window to gaze outside. The morning air was so very inviting, and absentmindedly I tried to open the clasps of the window, perhaps to climb outside, but they didn't budge. That was alright. I wasn't supposed to go outside without telling someone, anyway. It was just that I forgot, sometimes.

Instead, I fluttered through my room like a trapped butterfly, flitting about a little aimlessly, but perhaps ten, perhaps twenty minutes later, the bed was against the window, and I was dressed. My dress was the colour of the walls and loose around me; there were flowers growing at my waist. I brushed them away, watching the petals scatter to the floor. The fae liked playing tricks like that, flourishing blooms where only I could see them.

It seemed only natural, now that I was awake, to explore, and I slipped out of my room. I'd been shown around, before, with my family, but it's harder to trace one's steps in reverse. I followed the corridor, at an easy pace, lingering here and there to listen out for the sounds of life beyond the looming walls.

Without realising it, I was almost at the cafeteria - a sign that the fae must be guiding my wanderings. The floor was cool against my bare feet. There were voices whispering in my ear, encouraging me onwards. Whatever their reasoning, the fae wished me to be here, and so I would be here as long as they so continued to wish.

I was still reeling over the fact Garret would bring me here without telling me first. Feeling defeated, I did as he said and took a quick shower in the small bathroom that connected to our bedroom. It took a few squirts from the soap dispenser to wash the sweat that clung to my skin and my hair from laying on that bed for so long. Was I really out for a whole week? If so, at least I didn’t miss anything being strapped there.

I turned the water off, braced my hands against the tiled wall and stared at the medical bracelet the scientists here equipped me with. They said it was supposed to collect my health readings and somehow detect changes in heart rate and brain waves when a fugue was about to happen. Something tells me there was more to it than that. That this bracelet was really more like a collar keeping me tied here.

A quick rap on the door reminded me Garret was waiting on the other side. “Come in,” I said.

Garret came in already dressed in nursing smocks, his uniform for being my official caretaker. He didn’t have to say anything as he dried me off. His closeness was the only thing I needed right now. He already had a change of clothes ready for me on my bed. Slate grey sweatpants and a matching elbow-length t-shirt. After getting dressed, he had me sit on the floor while he braided my hair. His simple acts of caring for me are some of the most intimate moments we share. He’s the only one I’ve ever been comfortable with being this close.

After he tied it closed with my hairband, he gave me a chaste kiss on the top of my head. He stood up first and then gave me his hand to help me up. He cautiously brushed his thumb along my cheek. There was always so much care reflected in his eyes.

"Do you trust me?" He asked.

“Do you trust me?” I asked him, with tenderness and caution in my voice. I must’ve asked him that a thousand times since we met. With what he’s been through, I guess I can’t blame him for not being able to trust anybody. Over the years, he’s still hesitated.

He averted his gaze for just a moment then said, “Of course I do.”

That pause felt like a punch to my stomach every time. I sighed inwardly and helped him up. I never got the chance to ask him what happened when he was here last and Dr. Reder was rather vague on the subject. Seeing the trepidation in his eyes, I really hope I’m doing the right thing by bringing him back here.
We both took a deep breath, steeling ourselves as we walked out of our bedroom. I locked the door behind me and swung the coiled key bracelet back onto my wrist. As we made our way down the hall and into the cafeteria, Damon grasped my hand for security.

The smell of bacon, fruit, and maple flavoring wafted from the long serving row. There were security guards posted at the other hallway and each corner of the dining hall. One of the long tables was already filled with staff chatting away and finishing up their breakfast. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to sit with the staff or if the resident advisors are supposed to sit with their roommates. If I wasn’t, I decided I’m not going to go back on my word and I’d sit with Damon.

I walked him to the first empty table farthest from the medical staff. “Go ahead and rest here for a minute. I’ll get us some food. Want anything in particular?” I offered.

Damon was still stoic; I could just see those gears turning in his mind. He shook his head but then I heard his stomach rumble. A shade of red graced his freckled face and he looked up at me, “Um! Oatmeal would be fine, thanks.”

I smiled and squeezed his shoulder to ease his embarrassment. “No problem. I’ll be right back.”
He'll be okay for a few minutes. I went to the concession line and grabbed a tray, some plasticware, and napkins. The food wasn't much different than my high school's dining hall, only less warm and cozy lunch ladies. I grabbed a couple of apples and picked up a bowl of oatmeal. At the end of the line beside the cereal dispensers, I found the condiments: syrup, jelly, peanut butter, cinnamon, granola.

I added some granola, and cinnamon to Damon's oatmeal and started to head back to our table. His foot was doing a nervous tap dance under the table. I slid the food tray with the oatmeal over to him and took a seat across from him.

Just as I was wondering where all the other patients were, I noticed a girl with long golden hair in the hallway. She seemed rather lost in her thoughts like she was looking all around her but not at all. Seeming harmless enough, I waved her over to us to join our table.