Little black beads swarm in my eyes, my head heavy and mouth dry. Blinking a few times, a ceiling comes into view. I’m cold and uncomfortable.

I’m definitely not at the club.

Sitting up, I notice I’m not moving. Whimpering, I look down and notice my arms belted to a hard bed, my legs and ankles the same way. Where- where am I?

I look around finding an empty room, the smell of lemon and urine strong. Panic begins to sink into my stomach. I jerk my arms, but they don’t move. Becoming hysterical, I twist my body and kick my legs trying to free myself from the hard bed. The belts around my wrist and ankles are so tight my toes and fingers begin to tingle.

“Hello!” my voice echoes in the empty room. “BENJI!” I scream. “Benji, help!” I cry, staring at the harsh lights from above. They’re so bright my eyes water. Even when I close them you can see them.

“All right little missy, that’ll be enough.” A raspy voice informs. My head whips to the side and I see an older lady in a white nurse gown and a white cap on her gray hair. She looks like she stepped out of a seventies horror movie.

“Who are you? Where am I?” I ask frantically. My mouth dry from breathing and screaming, my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.

“You’re right where you need to be,” she tells me with a tight-lipped smile. She doesn’t make eye contact as she grabs something off a metal tray in the corner, her back facing me. I try and lift my head to see what she’s doing but I’m restrained and can’t lift far off the bed.

“Can you call my dad, he’s the president of the Shadow Keepers MC. He will get me out of …” I look around. “Whatever this is.”

She turns, a needle in her hand. Her gray eyes and pale skin making her look ghostly.

“Aw yes, the old biker routine.” Her cold blue eyes find mine and a chill strikes me right in the chest.

“Wh-what?” I look at her confused.

“Harley, there is no club and there’s no Benji. I really hoped having you sedated so long you would let that story go.”

“What are you talking about?” I snap, my confusion turning to anger.

She sighs, tilting her head to the side. “Your parents are a part of the Catholic community, and you’re very sick with Dissociative Identity Disorder. That’s why you’re in here, so God can save you.” She smiles, but I’m not smiling.

“No, that’s not true. Benji is real, my club is real!” I stress. “Where am I? Tell me where I am!” I demand.

She rolls her eyes as if I’m crazy and steps over to me. The smell of cigarettes strong, and I notice her fingers are tinged yellow. Her cold hands press against my bare thigh, and I try and jerk away from her. Her clinical touch seeping into my skin and freezing my veins. But it’s no use with these belts holding me in place, I’m at her mercy.

“You’re in a hospital. And Benji is someone you made up in your head. A dream from the sedatives possibly. However, If you keep this up I’ll have to be the bad guy and will have you moved back to the west wing.”

Snarling, I glare at her. “Hospital? West wing?” My face contorts into anguish.

“My life isn’t a dream!” My voice so loud it cracks.

“You’ve never made anything up before, thinking it was real?” She shoots me a cold look that has me holding my breath.

The way she’s so serious, I’m starting to second guess myself. Is the Shadow Keepers something I made up? It’s possible with my condition. I shake my head. No, it’s real. I feel Benji in my heart and soul, and can still hear his voice in my head. I look down at my thumb where I wore Benji’s ring, and it’s bare.

My bottom lip trembles as the coldest chill I’ve ever felt strikes me in the chest.

“Please, hold still,” she warns.

“Fuck you!” I jerk away from her. “SOMEONE HELP!” I scream, tears filling my eyes.

“You asked for it,” she hisses and drives the needle right into my thigh. I swear it hits bone it hurts so bad. Burning, stinging, mind-numbing coldness shoots into my veins.

My entire body instantly goes weak, my vision blurring.

“No, stop! Please!” I pathetically beg. “You don’t… you understand…” I begin to lose track of what I was saying. Fuzzy warm feelings buzzing through me.

“There is no club, Harley. There is no Benji, either,” she repeats, her voice echoing like an old bell. “Repeat after me,” she prompts.

My head rolls to the side, drool sliding out of the corner of my mouth. How’d that get there? My mouth was so dry seconds ago.

Voices in my head scream for help, but nothing comes out as I lay in a pool of sedatives.

“No, it’s real,” I sob, my throat clogging with emotion and numbness. Tears slip from my eyes and roll down my motionless face.

“It’s not,” she whispers into my ear. Her rancid breath the last thing I breathe in as everything goes… black.

* * *

“Are you with us, Harley?” A male voice echoes in my throbbing head. My eyes flutter open and the image of a man in a white lab coat doubles. I blink a few times, trying to get the image to stay still.

I was hoping being here was a nightmare and I would wake up in the club but the smell of lemon and piss tells me I’m still in hell.

“You’re in the Arizona Psychiatric Hospital. You don’t remember being a patient here?”

My eyes roll and I try to sit up, my back and sides very sore. My arms are suddenly jerked into place and I notice off-white belts restraining me to a bed. That’s right, I’m tied to a bed. My eyes snap from the belts to the man standing before me.

“You were very hostile and we wanted to make sure you as well as our staff were safe,” he informs. Now that I’m fully awake I can see him better. He looks to be in his thirties, blond hair with darker highlights, and no muscle tone to his body of what I can see. The way his nose points up at the end and his eyes narrow in on me. I can tell he thinks he’s better than me. He’s in control and he loves it.

“Where is Benji?” I demand.

The man clears his throat, frustration wrinkling his forehead.

“Harley,” he leans forward on his knees, “there is no Benji, there is no club. We’ve been through this. It’s all made up in your head, and you if you keep talking like this, you’ll never get out of here. Do you understand?”

“Who are you?” My voice breathy.

“I come in once a week to check on my patients. I was told you were having a rough day, so I came to check on you. I’m Dr. Witterchecker.”

My chest strikes with anger, my eyes as wide as saucers. He’s lying. He’s a fucking liar! Sobbing, I look down, my eyes falling on my tree line tattoo on my arm, and the saying, “Learn to get lost a little bit,” striking me in the chest like a thunderbolt.

My eyes widen, my heart fluttering with hope that my being here is temporary.

“Then explain this,” I ask through gritted teeth. The belts jingle as I tug my tattooed arm in his direction.

The man looks down at my tattoo, his thick caterpillar brows inching inward.

“You like to travel. It’s in your file. I assume you thought desecrating your body would make you feel more adventurous.” He shrugs, folding his hands in his lap.

My jaw drops, that little bit of hope I had in my chest snuffed out. Adventurous, that sounds like a load of crap.

“Who is paying you?” I growl.

“Maybe coming into population was too soon,” he murmurs to himself. He’s making me feel crazy, I’m not crazy!

“Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!” I try and lunge at him, but am whipped back.

I scream, jerking the restraints so hard my right wrist snaps.

“Nurse!” Dr. Witterchecker moves to the side so the scary nurse can come in the room. She goes to the metal table and I continue freeing myself. My wrist burns, and aches from breaking it, but I push through the pain.

“I’m not crazy. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you all!” I scream hysterically. Cold hands press into my thigh and the sting of the needle drowns me into the deep dark as I’m sedated again.

“Harley, come out from under the bed and meet Mr. Burt.”

Squeezing my mermaid doll to my chest I peer out from under the bed and see a man in black underwear. He’s old and wrinkly looking and has his hands on his hips. He looks mean and unfriendly.

“Do you want to come say hi?” Mom asks nicely. I look at the man again, and he smiles while nodding his head. A little voice in my head telling me to hide further in the darkness the bed held for me.

I shuffle under the bed to get away from them both. “No,” I scream. The last time I came out for one of Mommy’s friends, he made me uncomfortable. He kept petting me, and …

“Come out and say hi!” Mother snaps, her fake friendly tone now gone. Bending down she grabs one of my legs from under the bed, a lit cigarette hanging from her mouth as she attempts to force me out of hiding. My nails dug into the floor as I scream for the bugs in the wall to help me. My eyes filling with so many tears I couldn’t see in front of me anymore.

“Mommy, please no!” I begin to kick and squirm back under the bed.

The man crouches down and tries grabbing at my arms. Looking over my shoulder I use my free leg and I kick him in the face.

“MOTHER—” the man snaps upright holding his face.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Mother rushes to his side, not caring about me. She’s worried I might have hurt him and has her back to me. Slipping out from the under my bed, I run to my bedroom window and quickly I open it, and fall out. The sting in my ankle not slowing me down, I run.

Bare feet sticking to the ground, legs cold from the night, I run until I see black.