Breakdown (5 page)

“Afghanistan?”

“Iraq. I’ve been here for four years. My tour in Iraq ended in January 2009, just after Basra International was handed back to local government control. I was approached by Halliday to come and work here.”

“Got to have been a shock, coming from that into the MC?”

Craig snorted. “Certainly an eye opener. But a good one.” He frowned. “I was pretty vocal over ex-servicemen being left to lick their wounds and given no backing in civvy life.”

“So the MC told you to put your training where your mouth is and... help.”

“Pretty much.” He nodded at me. “You? How long did you serve? MI5? Army?”

I turned back to the window. “A year in juvy with medals for local thug of the year.”

Everything fell quiet for a while. “Ah... you’re civvy like Jan too? That’s unusual for a Master’s sub. Fall in with the wrong crowd and given a lifeline by the MC, huh?”

“Yeah. Something like that,” I said quietly.

The sound of a zip being done up drifted over. “I’m afraid I’ve already taken your mobile and shaving kit,” said Craig, looking over. “The mobile mostly because of the camera you have within it. Again, just a privacy issue under the Official Secret’s Act. The rest is just clothing, which is fine for you to keep.”

“Yeah? Peachy.”

After placing the potential
do yourself in
items on the bed, Craig came over. “Can you empty your pockets?”

“Nice manners you’ve got there, Craig. Want to say please now?”

“This that thug streak you were talking about, eh?” That raised brow of his was there. He indicated to the bed. “Your wallet and keys, please. You can keep the attitude on you for later.”

“Why didn’t you take them whilst I was drugged over the past few days?”

“Because I like you to know exactly where and why your things are being taken. No secrets, no bullshit.”

“Except for the notebook and DVD that’s gone missing?”

“Two items were taken by Mr. Richards and handed over to Dr. Halliday for safekeeping. You can ask Dr. Halliday about them when you see him.”

Not breaking eye contact, I went over to the bed and started throwing loose change, keys, and my wallet on the bed. Craig collected them up and pushed them over by my aftershave. Why the hell my aftershave... ah. Glass bottle.

“It’s policy to do a strip search. Are you okay with that?”

“No.”

Craig flicked a look up. “I need to check that you have nothing about you that can cause any harm. I can ask another nurse to come in and observe, if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

“No.”

Craig eased away from the bed. “No?”

“No.”

He eyed me up for a few moments, maybe sized me up more. “Jack, it will take five minutes, no longer. I’ve been doing this since I left medical college and I guarantee I’ve got it down to pit-stop art.”

“No.”

Back by the door, Halliday came in followed by two other people. “Afternoon, Jack. Everything okay?” he said. A woman in her early forties smiled over first. Hair was tied back into a pony-tail, showing a pretty oval face, yet the white overcoat she wore took away any shape to her figure. The man behind her looked more Halliday’s age, and just as hairy on the arms, only no mole touched his lip like it did with Halliday. All except Halliday carried clipboards.

Craig removed the items off the bed and handed them over to a nurse who stepped in. She disappeared with my danger-ware as Craig slipped my case under the bed. “You’ll get all your items back once you leave, Jack.” Then he was with Halliday. “Objections against a strip search.”

“That’s understandable considering the circumstances.” Halliday looked over. “Jack, these are the two specialists I’ve asked to come in and consult with me. This here is Dr Reis.” The woman nodded over. “She’s here as a Senior Consultant in General and Forensic psychiatry. She’ll be taking care of your physical well-being. This, here, is Dr Morgan.”

“Hello, Jack.” The man nodded over.

“He specialises in General Adult psychiatry, obsessive compulsive disorder, self-harming and post-traumatic stress disorder. You already know Craig. He’s your named nurse, and he’ll be having input into, and both taking care of, the care plan that is provided. You understand this unit is a military facility, funded by Government through the Master Circle, and that all staff here has military backgrounds. Usually sessions do not need a nurse present, but if at any time you become a threat to safety, Craig will be required in sessions. This is due to the background history of all MC personnel such as yourself. Do you have any questions so far?”

“Yeah. Where are the cards kept for the fucking door?” My back was nearly pressed against the wall, leg pressed painfully into the bed. The door was open; I needed it to be fucking open. “No strip search.”

“I’m not here to enforce that,” said Halliday. “Do you remember who I am? In our last meeting, we were never really properly introduced.” He forced me to look over with that. “Can you remember when we last met?”

“Few months back.” My gaze happily found the door again. “Hos... in the hospital.”

“Jack, take a deep breath. Hold it for two counts. Exhale.”

“
I know how to fucking breathe
.” Considering the aggression behind that, no one jolted or looked away. Most people got the fucking hint to back off well enough; looked like these bastards couldn’t take a hint. As a Master Dom, Gray had taught me breathing relaxation techniques when I was a late teen, then I’d taught it to other Doms and subs through the years. I didn’t need reminders on how to handle stress and panic from a few fucked-up quacks. Fifteen footsteps and I’d make it to the door. I’d counted that, but couldn’t remember when,
Deep breath. One damaged fuel pump, two damaged fuel pumps
... release.

“Excellent control, Jack,” said Halliday. I looked back at him. “I’m Philip Halliday,” he added. “I specialise in Cult psychology, in particular psychological reconditioning, but my specialist areas also incorporate all personality disorders,” he added, then nodded at Dr. Morgan.

“Jack,” said Morgan, coming over. “I’m just going to repeat these details, and part of the care plan is for Craig to repeat the same information every few days—”

Christ, back to fuckwit territory.

“Your case history supports a history of violent blackouts, also recurrence of Teenage Dissociative Identity Disorder. You’re under analysis for Section 2 or 3 of the Mental Health Act, depending on how your disorders present themselves. You have a trademark of being unaware of ‘walking’, where a secondary personality by the name of Martin makes his presence known. Yes?”

I didn’t reply. It didn’t need one.

“There’s also a recent diagnosis of absences.”

“One observed episode over the past two days,” said Craig, softly, and Halliday nodded.

“Jack, you’re under my primary care,” said Halliday as Morgan moved back. “I’m known as your Approved Mental Health Professional and all decisions relating to sectioning will come from me.” He gave a hard sigh. “Because there has been raised concern over how fragmented your memories are over what’s happened—”

From Gray?

“This information will also be repeated. For two weeks you were held captive by a group of men who used rape, BDSM-style techniques, also ketamine and opiates to try and recondition your mindset regarding your perception of OCD and Conduct Disorder. All carried out in a replica setting of your own home.”

“Work,” I snarled. I really wanted fucking work now. Not talk, not about Jack shit, not when Gray’s shit topped mine. I waited for that sad-ass look off Craig; everyone had been giving me that sad-ass look lately. But Craig kept his expression trained, which was fucking fine by me. “Jack,” he said calmly. “Anything you feel uncomfortable doing, you just let me know, okay? Yes, I’m here to ensure your meds are followed and that you’re not harm to yourself or anyone around you, but I’m also here to let you have the space you need to breathe.”

“Yeah? I get my own special corner and training mat to piss on too?” The pathway to the door looked longer and longer by the minute. Not helped as Halliday came over.

“Ease down. Craig undertook the search whilst you were sedated, but he needed to ask just to judge your reaction. I need to know my staff can touch you without your restraint. Restraint is the last call.”

“You fucking wrestled my ass to the floor, then drugged me up. That was your
first
call.”

“You hit members of my staff.”

“
They were fucking touching Jan. Nobody fucking touches him, not without my permission
.”

Halliday nodded. “And when Mr. Richards got close to you, do you remember what happened?”

I fell quiet. The smell of vomit long since washed away; Jan’s grief over being pushed away wasn’t.

“Scent association, Jack. Jan is a trigger at the moment. You were both held together and he knows the ramifications of that. It’s why he’s backed away. Now, Dr. Reis needs to examine you. Nothing will happen that you will not know about beforehand.” He fell quiet for a moment, then—“Jack.”

Breathing hard, I frowned at Halliday.

“Are you aware you were scratching at your hip whilst we were talking about Jan?”

I resisted looking down.

“There are going to be times that your limits are going to be tested from this point,” Halliday said quietly. “It’s going to hurt and make you want to crawl and hide, or face events that you are having difficulty piecing together. If you want help, show me. Please? Step away from the wall,” he said gently, “and the bed. Give yourself the room to relax and freedom to know you aren’t forced into a corner.”

“Just a whole fucking psych unit.” But I did what he asked, ignoring how breathing came a little easier standing closer to the window.

“Thank you, Jack. Dr. Reis?”

“Can you lie on the bed, please?” Reis had a softer quality to her voice, and I kept my manners enough around women. Blood pressure machine and a tray of all sorts of delights were rolled in as I lay down. After rolling the sleeves to my jumper up, I started counting fuel pumps as the basics were taken care of. Bloods were taken, sealed up, and sent away. Then came the physical. It was brief, just the usual touchy feely shit, but when it came to easing my jogging bottoms down, I caught her hand, making her jump slightly.

“Don’t.”

“Dr Halliday mentioned care had been provided for a possible wound here.” A strand of her hair fell, slipping from behind her ear as she looked down. “I just need to have a look, please, Jack. I’ll make it as brief as possible.” Halliday coughed off in the distance, and letting Reis’ hand go, I looked away, focusing on the window and pictured those fuel pumps as her messing came at my side.

“Dr Halliday said you were branded with a branding iron in the shape of a letter V during your captivity,” she said. “What happened to that branding mark, Jack? Can you tell me why the V has been cut away into a square on your right hip there?” Quiet. “Most is open wound with little sanguineous crust.... How long ago was the branding?”

“Nearly seven weeks ago,” answered Halliday.

“It looks clean, though. Have you been treating this, Jack?”

If I had, I couldn’t remember. I remembered the look on Jan’s face seeing it a few days back, and that had been hard enough to punch through the echo of always needing to itch.

“Do you know why the V has been cut away into a square, Jack?” said Halliday.

“Wasn’t straight.” I barely recognised my own voice. “Had to straighten it.”

“Before your kidnapping,” said Halliday into the quiet of the room, “you’d take a photo and test your OCD tolerance by letting it drop ‘casually’ on a surface, is that correct? You’d leave it for as long as possible before allowing the need to straighten it. Sometimes you’d manage it for several days, other times, hours, depending on the stress levels.” Something was written down, but not from Halliday. “Your captives also used the same technique, dropping the photo with a message next to it saying ‘Don’t... straighten me, Jack.’ This targeted your Conduct Disorder, your compulsion to disobey, and also your OCD. Only you were bound so that you couldn’t get to the photo, denying both.”

“You said you needed to straighten your wound, Jack.” That came from Dr. Morgan. He was a little closer to the bed now too, but the moment I noticed was the moment he stepped back. “Can you tell me why?”

“OCD,” I said eventually. “I had OCD.”

“You needed to straighten the wound,” Morgan again, “yet you
had
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder?”

“Not the same.”

“How, Jack?”

“Just—”

“This needing to be cleaned bollocks is really starting to piss me off, Jack.”

Vince.

I frowned. “Just. OCD. I don’t have it anymore.”

“Can you look at the wound?” That came from Halliday.

“No.”

“Can you touch the wound?”

“No.”

There was quiet as Reis started to clean at my side. “Okay. Done. You can sit up now.” I eased back on my knuckles, doing the typical ape manoeuvre.

“When was the last time you self-harmed, Jack?” said Morgan. He’d come closer to the bed again.

“I’ve never self-harmed.”

“Never?”

“No.”

“You have no history of using anything to cut yourself?”

“Well, yeah, but.” I shrugged. “That’s not self-harming, I—” That stopped there.

“You what, Jack?”

“Like it.”

“Present tense.” Morgan nodded. “What makes it feel good?”

A fresh razor blade teasing against my balls? That made it so fucking good. I sighed, rubbing at my head. “Look. I’ve done this shit a thousand times over. I was a teen. Cutting came with a high, one that could distract from my meds, from the whole head-fuck bollocks over fugues, over OCD, over fucked-up Oppositional Defiance Order, later named Adult Conduct Disorder, you name the whole axis one, two, and whatever axis three I nearly tiptoed into at times, knowing Cutter.”

When I looked up Morgan was half-smiling at Halliday. Axis one covered the likes of OCD, Axis two covered personality disorders like conduct disorder, and three, well that stepped into the likes of psychosis territory. One sometimes led to two; step into three, and you were basically fucked.