--Uh-oh, I got bored again! Hope you like it--
Crazy for Trying
"Linda, listen to me," Dean said, pleading with the woman holding the phone in front of him. "I'm trying to help you! If you don't listen to me you will die. Please, put the phone down."
He couldn't go to jail. If he went to jail the FBI would figure out where he was and send him and Sam to Death Row.
The woman stared at him, phone still in hand, wide eyed.
"Linda, I'm trying to help you, you have to believe me. Don't call the cops, okay?"
God, why did Sam have to be doing research at a time like this?
"I didn't call the police." She said, finally dropping the phone. He looked confused before it finally dawned on him.
"No, Linda, please tell me you didn't-" The door opened. Two men a lot larger than him came into the door, dressed in white. Dean turned, ready to fight.
How on Earth they got the drop on him, he had no idea, but they did. And their iron grips didn't help. He struggled against them, muscles tense, veins straining in his neck. The men held tight struggling to hold him.
"Let me go you sons a bitches!" He bellowed, writhing back and forth. They were dragging him back, toward the large van outside.
"Linda! Linda, you have to get out of the house! It'll kill you if you don't!" She merely looked at him in disgust. Before he could say anything else a needle was stuck into his neck. He grunted, pulling away from it, but it was too late. The sedative was already working. His eyes started to close against his will.
He opened his eyes, time and location lost to him. He tried moving his hands but found his wrists sore and bound with Flex-Cuffs behind his back. He lifted his head off of the floor of the van, trying to see out the translucent windows. Before he could make anything out the van stopped. He waited, and he didn't have to wait long.
The double doors to the back of the van opened and the two men hauled him out, dropping him onto the hard concrete. He gasped, the wind leaving his lungs. The men picked him back up and hauled him toward a large white building. Dean looked around the surrounding area. There was nothing. Nothing but the paved road that led here and this building for as far as he could see. Fear welled inside him. He looked back up at the insane asylum he was being dragged toward, wondering what his fate could possibly be here. He knew it wouldn't be good, and he doubted he would be allowed to call Sam.
He started to fight against them again. The effects of the sedative hadn't quite worn off yet, but he tried.
A tazer was shoved into his side before he could gain any kind of advantage. He cried out, tensing at the electricity coursing through him. When it pulled away he coughed, inhaling raggedly. The doors opened and a rush of cold air met him. Air conditioner was a good thing, but not in November.
The entire place was white. The floor, the walls, the ceiling, the uniforms, everything. The lobby had high ceilings and a desk off to the side.
A man stepped forward in a doctor's get up stepped forward. His glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, his balding head shining in the fluorescent lighting.
"Hello, Dean," He said. Dean scowled at him. "Yes, I know who you are. Or, at least your first name. Dear Linda didn't catch your last name. She said you were going on about ghosts and evils that were plaguing her. She said you made threats against her life," Dean remained silent. "So, we're going to keep you here until you're better. And there is a way to get out. All you have to do is tell me you're crazy and you can leave."
"You think I'm gonna give in to an ugly asshole like you?" Dean smirked. "You got another thing coming, Chuckles." The man frowned.
"You may address me as Dr. Manning. And you just had your first demerit, Dean," He said. "Our demerit system is simple. You break one of my rules, you lose a piece of clothing. As you can see we keep it pretty cool here. Clothes are key. If you behave enough you might even earn an item back." Manning looked at one of the men holding Dean.
"Take him to the showers and then to 405," The man nodded. They started dragging Dean away again, and though he fought, his fate was set. "Welcome to The Asylum, Dean."
The showers were horrible. He was thrown into the concrete room, back slamming into a wall. Before he could fully get his bearings the men were on him again.
His clothes were literally ripped from his body piece by piece until he was completely naked. He barely registered what was going on while it was happening. He struggled and squirmed with all his might, and he was rewarded with tazers stabbing at him. One tossed him against the wall again, causing him to cough and arc his back.
Then the water. Water from a type of small fire hose that felt like millions of needles stabbing his skin. It was like being dumped in a tub of fiberglass shards.
He shielded his face from the force of it, crying out and curling into a ball. He clamped his arms over his head, his screams being drowned out by the roar of the water.
He was trapped in a vacuum in which you took your breaths sparingly and tried not to drown for the rest.
When it finally stopped he tried not to collapse. The icy water and the air around him made him tremble uncontrollably, coughing.
Dr. Manning walked in, smiling down at him. Dean scowled up at him, huddling over his knees in an attempt to cover himself.
"I think breaking you will definitely be one to remember. But you will break, Dean. I can guarantee it." Manning bent down in front of him. Suddenly his hand lashed out and yanked the necklace off of his neck. Dean winced and followed it with his eyes, part of him pleading for Manning to give it back.
"Wouldn't want you to use it as a weapon," He said, grinning. "Don't worry, it'll be with your personal effects. You'll get it back as soon as you meet our agreement," He looked up at the two men. "Take him to 405." He turned and walked out of the room.
A man threw clothes at him.
Dean quickly put them on his soaked skin, simultaneously looking for a way out.
"Don't even think about it." The man closest to Dean said. He swallowed and pulled the flimsy shirt over his head. He guessed that his previous demerit deprived him of anything on his feet.
He watched the men bounce the clubs in their hands, looked at the size of them. He could take them, if he was uninjured and pumped full of steroids. But that just wasn't the case right now. Before he could do anything else he was struck in the back by one of their blunt instruments. He collapsed on his stomach, coughing and wincing. His arms were forced behind his back and bound with real handcuffs. He was hauled up to his feet and dragged down a long hall with freezing floors.
The handcuffs were undone and he was shoved into the room. He spun around, ready to fight but the door slammed in his face. He looked around, legs wobbling and threatening to floor him. And they would have if he wouldn't have grabbed the bed. Well, that is if you want to call it a bed. It was more of a cot. A mattress stained with God knows what, a thin blanket and a flimsy pillow was all he had to work with. But he'd take it. He lied down, wrapping the blanket tightly around himself, curling into a ball. The room was dark and freezing. He shivered occasionally.
And, knowing he was alone in the dark, he allowed just one tear to fall.
"Sammy, where are you?"
I really need to learn how to keep my mouth shut. He thought. And it wasn't the first time he had thought it either.
He'd gone through the motions those first few days, trying to get a feel of the place, trying to figure out where the exits were. And there was one. Through the front door. But today, no today he decided not to just simply take the random blows the guards gave. This time when the big dude hit him, he got right back up and hit him back.
That's how he ended up here.
Manning had seen what had happened, unfortunately, and immediately ordered three other men to subdue him. And it took all three of them, too.
They finally forced him to his knees, wrenching his wrists behind his back and cuffing them together.
Manning stepped forward, that same soft smile on his lips, like he knew that he was smarter than you. Like he was God and you were just some bug he could crush.
One of the goons behind him grabbed a handful of his hair and forced his head up.
"You're off to a very rocky start, Dean," He said. "And you'll be punished for it," He knelt down in front of him. "And we can make it very small if you apologize to Bernard here for striking him." Dean smirked his infamous smirk.
"Eat me." He said. Manning frowned and straightened up.
"Take him to eleven. Don't start without my say so." They dragged him in the opposite direction he was facing. He craned his neck to see over his shoulder, but there was no point. He tried struggling again, and all that got him was the men dropping him and kicking him a few times. Before he knew it he was in another room and the cuffs were being taken off. Before he could try and do anything he was hauled up and slammed onto a metal slab. He felt a needle slide into his neck and he grunted, distracting him from his original fight with the people trying to restrain him.
"Let me go you sons a bitches!" He bellowed, his strength fading. While the men held him down a woman with a hard and unforgiving face started to strap him down. She didn't even look at him. The men's hands released him, leaving him to fight the restraints uselessly.
He looked around the room, past the orderly's blank and indifferent faces. He saw something with a knob on the wall closest to him, and a sign next to it that said high voltage. His heart rate sped and his eyes grew when he understood what was about to happen.
Manning stepped in, smiling at him. Dean scowled at him, wanting to rip that contented smile right off of his face.
"Tell me you're crazy, Dean. Admit what you are and this can be avoided."
"Screw you, pal." He spat. Manning shook his head, sadly almost. He looked at the nurse closest to the knob.
"Do it." A piece of rubber was shoved in his mouth before the agony started.
As the electricity pumped through his veins his body caught on fire. His blood boiled and pounded in his head. His hands clenched into fists and his tendons were on the verge of snapping.
And then it stopped. His hands uncurled, breath hitching in his chest. He gasped for air, not even bothering to spit the mouthpiece out.
"Tell me you're crazy." Manning repeated. Dean shook his head. And it started all over again. After every time Manning would tell him to tell him he was crazy. And Dean said no every time.
"Alright, Dean," Manning said after an eternity on this table. His whole body throbbed and buzzed with pain and heat. "If I electrocute you one more time you will die," He said. Dean believed it. "But I can throw you in the hole for awhile." He nodded to two orderlies he wasn't familiar with. The straps were undone and he was hauled off the table. He landed on his knees, crying out weakly and wheezing thereafter.
"Oh, almost forgot." Manning said. He lashed out suddenly at him, grabbing the collar of his shirt and ripping it off. Dean grunted, looking up at Manning with pleading eyes. Though it was hard to believe, it was colder in this place without it.
"Try and behave. You're running out of things for us to take." He said.
Dean hardly had any strength at all to fight the straight jacket that was being put on him. He nearly fell over more than once, each time being steadied by one of the gorillas behind him. The straps were tightened painfully around him, crushing his already aching chest.
Once again he was hauled away down an unforeseen hall. A door creaked open and he was tossed in.
He fell like a sack of flour. He coughed, his breath coming in gasps. The constant orders for him to admit he was crazy were starting to wear on him. Starting to mess with his head just a little.
His entire body begged for rest. His mind begged for a release from the pain. And his heart begged for his brother.
"Sammy, please, hurry."
--Okay, the next chap'll be a lot faster, i promise :D Feedback please!--