Claire had now been in the hospital for one week. Every day for the past five days, Pam had escorted Claire into the examination room, and performed the unthinkable. The unspeakable. Claire did not talk while it was happening, and she did not talk about it after it was over either. She preferred to think of it as little as possible. This proved surprisingly difficult. She found she could be in the middle of talking or thinking about something else, and all of a sudden find herself remembering... *that*. It had happened the day before, it had happened this morning, and it was going to happen again tomorrow. The thought of it was always just out of view, hanging out in the periphery of her mind.

She had just returned to the room, where Myst welcomed her back with a silent hug, as if Myst somehow knew that something unspeakable had just happened.

"Myst," Claire asked, "what exactly happens when they take *you* to get your daily meds? Like, how do they give them to you?"

Myst looked like someone had just asked her a question she'd been dreading having to answer, but knew it was coming eventually.

"Well, Pam takes me over there to the exam room, and gives me a shot, here..."

Myst pulled up her robe, and pulled down her panties, to show a band-aid on her right butt-cheek.

"Oh...," Claire was shocked, not by Myst's casual self-exposure (she was used to that by now), but by what this meant. Myst was not getting the same treatment she was. Myst was not getting drugs by suppository, and probably also wasn't getting rectal temperatures either. None of this made sense to Claire.

"That is not what they do to me," she explained.

"I didn't think so," said Myst, "they have several different ways of *getting* to you here, and needles are mine. Claire, have you ever wondered why I don't have any tattoos?"

"No I never thought about it," Claire lied out of politeness.

"Oh, come on! I look like someone who *should* have tats, and yet I don't. You wanna know why?" Myst's eyes widened, as she sat back down, and began dangling her slipper the way she always did.

"Why?"

"Because I'm afraid of needles. Totally freaked out. Tattoo needles, shot needles, blood tests, IVs, doesn't matter. When I first got here to this hospital, every time they said they were going to inject me with something, I ran *screaming*. They used to have to send the goons after me to catch me and hold me down while they injected me. I used to fight them, hard. They'd always win, but I gave as good as I got!"

"But why? I mean, why do they *do* that to you? Don't they have pills?"

"Well, yeah. The meds I'm on, I always was on pills before I got here. They do this on purpose, *because* they know I hate it. That's what they do here, Claire."

"Oh, no..."

"That's right. That's what this place does. That's what being a *special project patient* means. They figure out, or guess, what's the thing that really drives you up the wall, and then they do it to you. Every day."

"Why? Why would they do that? Who does that help?"

"They're not trying to help us, Claire, they're trying to control us, and use us, and play with us. We're toys. Playthings."

"Oh God," Claire muttered, barely able to think the thought.

"Now let me guess what they're doing to get to you. Based on the dress code they already imposed on you --- what with the gown and all --- I'm gonna guess they give you suppositories. Rectal temps. You know, stuff that goes in your *butt*."

"Oh Myst, don't talk about it please, I don't want to think about it," Claire was shaking.

"That's kind of the point, though. They know you don't want to think about it. They like taking all the things you'd rather not think about, and shoving them in your face. Or, in your case, shoving them someplace else."

"But... how did they know?"

"I'm sure they've got a bunch of theories that pseudo-scientifically explain it."

"And *you* knew, Myst, how did *you* know?"

"Oh Claire... let me count the ways," Myst continued, excited. Claire could tell Myst was excited because her foot was twitching faster. "Well let's see... the first day you got here, the first time I saw you, when you sat down? You... you didn't sit all the way back. It was like, you didn't even want the *chair* touching your --- touching you back there."

"I... didn't notice myself doing that."

"Most people *don't* notice that kind of thing. You have to train yourself to see it. And here's more --- whenever Pam walks in to take you, you go stiff as a board --- not like you're scared, even though you are --- but more like you're embarrassed. And when the Doctor... "

"Don't talk about him!" Claire interjected.

"And the gown? It bothers you *way* more than it would most people. Most people, yeah, they would think it was embarrassing. Who wouldn't? I did, when I had to wear one, when I first got here. But that's most people, just at first. And then they'd think it was funny. And then... they'd get used to it and not even notice it. But not you."

"Oh... well, I..."

"And every time you come back from the exam room?"

Claire *had* started to try to say something, but Myst was talking fast, like Claire'd had a split second in which to speak, and she missed it.

"You --- oh sorry --- you, uh...mmm...," Myst twirled her finger in circles, as if trying to restart a car that had run off the road, "You --- you don't talk! And you don't look at anybody in the eyes, and you walk different. You walk like somebody who's trying not to think about their own body. And that's why you're in the gown, Claire. This place only keeps people in gowns who really don't want to be in them. I've seen it all before."

"Really?"

"There's parts of you that you don't want anyone to see, or know about, and you don't even want to think about. Maybe you don't even know you're thinking about it, right now, most of the time. But it's always at the back of your mind, nagging at you, and you don't even know how hard you're working to keep it out of your conscious mind. The, uhm, tax you're paying. I can see it, and so can they."

"You're right. I'm scared, Myst! What does all that mean?" Claire asked.

"It means they know. They've found it. They've found the one thing you'd want more than anything to keep hidden from them, and engineered it *just so*, so you can't ever forget it, because it's peeking out of the back of your gown every time you stand up!"

Claire was silent for a minute, then spoke softly but firmly, "Please do not mention this gown."

* * *

It was afternoon socialization time. Most of the patients were watching TV. Claire was not interested, and sat on a couch away from everyone else, not even facing the TV. Instead she was watching a curious gathering off in its own corner of the commons room.

Nikki was sitting in an armchair in the corner. A nurse escorted a group of three or four strangers --- outsiders --- people dressed in street clothes! --- towards her. It was the first time in a week that Claire had seen people that were not dressed either as patients, or nurses, or... Doctors.

The Doctor! That man appeared in her imagination again. She was aware that he was planning to examine her again soon. She did not want to think about it. She pushed him out and concentrated on the strangers. *Visitors!* she thought, *Nikki's friends came to see her!*

The visitors were two girls and two guys, all of whom looked like college students. They looked pretty much like the sort of people you would imagine Nikki to hang out with. One of the girls had short hair that was dyed blue. She was somewhat heavyset, and was wearing some kind of Dungeons and Dragons t-shirt. The other girl was thin, angular, tan with very black hair, and looked like she was dressed to go hiking. Claire could not guess her exact ethnicity. She looked very intelligent. She hugged Nikki. Claire could hear female voices expressing sympathy.

And then there were the guys. One of them was short, shorter than the girls, with red hair and beard. He looked like a little leprechaun, Claire thought. He was dressed in some kind of video game t-shirt, and jeans that didn't fit very well. The other guy was lanky, tall but slouching, dark haired, bearded. Wearing a flannel shirt that looked like it had seen better days, some kind of heavy metal t-shirt that Claire couldn't tell if it had words on it or just some kind of design made out of lightning and dead branches, jeans the color of the green beans that they served in the cafeteria at the hospital, and skateboarder shoes that appeared on the very point of falling apart. He was wearing a beanie. Claire wondered if he wore it indoors because he was already going bald.

They talked to Nikki for a while, but Claire couldn't understand their conversation. She could hear Nikki's tone, she could tell Nikki was complaining, venting. *And why shouldn't she?*, Claire thought, *she'd been stuck here for reasons even more stupid than me* Gradually the taller guy turned away from the group, apparently tired of listening to Nikki rant. He walked away from them. He started walking...

*Oh God no!*, thought Claire, *he's coming this way*

She sat perfectly still, perfectly straight, and stared at the floor, and at her two bare feet. She tried to will the boy away, with all of her mental concentration. *Go somewhere else! Anywhere else! Just don't...*

It was too late. The boy was now sitting at the extreme end of the couch. The same couch Claire was sitting on. He was looking at her. She couldn't look back. She couldn't breathe.

*How can I talk to him, when I'm... like this*, she looked at the thin blue fabric of her gown, *he can see what I'm wearing. How does he possibly think I'd want to talk? Here, now, when I'm...*

He interrupted her thoughts with, "You must be Claire. Nikki said they had a new girl here named Claire."

Claire said nothing. She continued to stare at her feet.

"You seem cool," continued the guy, "I'm Jacob. But my friends call me *The Gent*" (or at least that's what it sounded like he said)

*You're not being very gentlemanly*, Claire wanted to say, but did not.

After an awkward silence, "you know like the guitar sound? Djent, djent, djent...," he continued, playing air guitar.

Further silence. Claire couldn't even look at him, but she assumed he was looking her all over. He was looking at her blue hospital gown, at her hands folded on her lap, at her bare knees, at her bare feet. She tried to dig her bare toes into the carpet to hide them. It didn't work. The carpet was as threadbare as the couch.

At that exact moment, Myst walked over. "Uh. I leave you alone for five minutes, and *this* happens?" she said to Claire, who continued to say nothing.

Myst turned to The Gent, and said, "be careful trying to pick up chicks in an insane asylum! some of us are a little *crazy*!"

The young man was taken aback, "uhm... uh... we were just talking..."

"No," Myst said with a finality like Claire had never heard before.

The boy left without saying anything, and went back to join Nikki. Claire saw the blue-haired girl give him a very disappointed look, and the taller girl spoke to him. She could not hear her but her face looked displeased. Even Nikki looked annoyed at him. The leprechaun guy just sort of looked awkward.

"Thank you," muttered Claire, turning her attention to Myst.

"Claire Bear," said Myst, "you can say *no* to people."

"I wanted to, I couldn't. I couldn't talk to him or even look at him, not even to tell him to go away," Claire explained.

"I know," said Myst with sympathy, "it's hard. That's why I'm here to say it for you, for now, but you're going to need to learn."

"I don't know if I can."

"Claire, you need to, because there's people here at this hospital that do *not* have your best interests in mind."

"Like who, Pam? How can I say no to *her*?"

"No no. Pam is nothing. Pam's just doing her job. Have you had your weekly checkup with the Doctor yet?"

"No," Claire shuddered. She did not want to think about the Doctor examining her again. He made her extremely edgy. "It's... tomorrow."

"Well," said Myst with the same tone of reluctant sharing as she'd used that morning, "I know a few things about him that I need to tell you."

"I don't like talking about him. He's the reason I'm stuck here! And being around him makes me so... well, like what you just saw --- helpless! I don't even like thinking about him!"

"You might not like thinking about him, Claire, but I expect that he's thinking about *you*!"

"Oh Myst please don't be talking in circles like that, at a time like this! Please just tell me what I'm supposed to be worried about!"

"Ok. Our Doctor --- the one that's in charge of all the patients on this floor... Have you noticed that all of the women in here, are mostly young? Mostly hot? Mostly don't even need to be here, or just barely? It's not exactly a cross-section of all the types of women who belong in a mental hospital!"

"I... yes, now that you mention it. I figured that was just because, you know, this was the low-security wing or something."

"Well, it is, actually, it's mostly full of girls like us --- girls that don't need to be here. As far as the official hospital is concerned, this is just where they place us. As far as *he's* concerned, this place is his collection. His menagerie. Where he keeps his *pretty things*..."

"Oh...," Claire did not like the sound of any of this, at all.

"And then there's you and me. Most of the women here are decorations, flowers in his garden. You and me, we're his *special project*. He has *plans* for us."

"Oh God! I don't believe it! Myst, the man is cruel, yes, but he's a Doctor! He's doing his job..."

"Believe it, Claire! He *wants* you, and that's why you're still here!"

"How... how do you know?"

"Because he's already *got* me!"

"What?!"

"Claire, the Doctor is, I'm not sure what the word is. My boyfriend? No that's too innocent. Lover? No, that makes it sound like fun. Sugar-daddy? That's a lot closer, only even the sugar here isn't very sweet."

Claire stared at Myst, not sure if she could believe what she was hearing.

Myst continued, "I could, perhaps accurately, also use words like abuser, enslaver, except... those don't convey the part I'm playing voluntarily."

Claire stammered, "V-voluntarily? You *want* to do this?"

Myst paused for a moment, as if briefly stung by an accusation, and then continued in a dry, clinical manner. "I don't *want* to do this Claire. I *need* to do this. He has me anyway. He doesn't have to let me go. He can do whatever he wants. At least, this way, I get a little in return for giving him something he can't get any other way."

Claire was terrified. It had sunk in. Myst wasn't lying, wasn't exaggerating, wasn't just a crazy person imagining things. This was *real*.

"And what is that? What do you *give* him?"

Myst's voice lowered, "Two things. One, I give him *willing participation*. He can't *force* me to pretend I'm doing this of my own free will! Two, I give him the one thing he can't get from anyone else here --- *domination*."

Claire was confused again, just when she thought she understood Myst, she was thrown for another loop. "Domination?"

"Yes, Claire. He needs me to be the only woman that can take charge of him. All day long he gets off on being in charge of all the girls in here, but the thing only I can give him is to make *him* feel small. Make him feel degraded. Make him feel like the piece of absolute human garbage that he is..."

"You mean, like, whips and chains and stuff?" Claire's knowledge of this area of human sexuality was limited mainly to sex store billboards along the freeway, and a couple of steamy novels, which she found herself unable to finish reading for how awkward they made her feel.

"Yes, sometimes," said Myst. "I'm not proud of it. Before I got locked up in here, I was involved with kinky people who did it right. There's a *community*, Claire, and rules. Rules that protect you. Rules that keep everyone safe. I learned those rules! Those rules set me free. There's no rules in here, other than what I'm able to get him to agree to by sheer force of will. I'm all alone, there's no one here to protect me..." Myst trailed off, she sounded like she was about to cry herself, "... so I have to protect myself!"

"Oh God! Oh Myst, I'm sorry I doubted you!" Claire pleaded, "I believe you! I believe you!" she said, hugging Myst, this time as the comforter. "But what's in it for you? What could you possibly have to gain?"

"Well," Myst continued after another pause, "it means I get some semblance of control over times, places, what I have to do. It also means I have a lot more autonomy in this hospital than I would otherwise. You notice how even though I'm a special project, I get to dress how I want? I mean, a robe with a *belt*? Have you ever heard of a mental hospital, prison, rehab, halfway house, or anything, where they let you have belts? That alone should have given me away as not quite a normal patient."

"I guess? I mean, I did notice that you're not dressed like I am," Claire said, contemplating her own gown again.

"That's one of the few advantages of my... situation. But mostly, I use it to help others."

"Others?"

"Like, when you got your zip ties taken off sooner than expected, remember?"

Claire thought for a second. "Oh Myst! That was you! You did that?! How?" *Myst has been protecting me since the day I got here, before I even really knew her!*, Claire thought.

"You don't want the details, Claire, believe me!"

Claire did not, in fact, want the *details*. "So why... again... are you telling me this?"

"Because if you're here, he's got his eye on *you* too. I'm not enough for him, apparently. He wants you, too!"

This was, of course, exactly what Claire did not want to hear. She started crying, silently. "What do you think he wants from me, specifically?" she dared to ask. She did not want to think about what this man and Myst were doing, or the idea of her being expected to do any of it.

"I don't know," said Myst, returning to her factual, clinical voice, "but it must be completely different from what he gets from me. From me, he gets a deal. A compromise. He gets transactions. It's all tit for tat --- except I'm all tits and no tats, and not even too much of that...," Myst grinned and gesticulated in the direction of her chest, her modest cleavage visible inside the robe, attempting to inject humor into what she was about to have to say. "If I had to guess, I'd guess he expects your complete and total *submission*. He wants you to surrender to him. He thinks he can bend you."

"Oh... Myst I'm scared. What am I going to do?"

"Well, you could fight. Push back. Kick. Scream. Bite! There'll be consequences, but you'll survive. The fact that I'm ok, after the fights I put up when I first got here, is proof of that."

"Myst," Claire said tearfully, "I'm not you! I don't think I can do that."

"I know, I know, Claire Bear. Here's what I suggest instead, and I think you're going to do it anyway without me telling you: exactly what I saw just now with stupid-boy."

"Huh? I didn't do anything."

"That's right. That's it exactly. You went stiff as a board. You showed no sign of liking him. You refused to entertain him. You made no effort at all to recognize him, his presence, you gave him no power over you!"

"That's not how it felt!"

"That's what I saw! You held your own, in the only way you know how. And that's what I need you to do with the Doctor. Don't give him *anything*. Don't pretend to like him. Don't pretend you're comfortable with him. Don't let him ever think he's winning you over."

"Will that... work?"

"I don't know, but it's what we've got. You just hold your ground, like I saw you do just now, until I can figure out how to get you out of this shithole."