The distorted sounds of a gushing river filled Amrite's ears as a powerful current haphazardly pushed its way through a small opening. A grey haze surrounded the torrent racing through dead trees and wet dirt. Water launched into the air in thick spurts, as if gasping for air and dragging it back down into its depths. Thousands of droplets from the cascade appeared like pixels on a screen, each vanishing as quickly as they formed.
A loud, ragged rasping noise in the background dwindled in volume. The sounds continued to fade while the memory flickered in and out of focus. Amrite couldn’t remember where it came from or why it held such significance; but one thing was certain - a pregnant terror oozed its way through to the forefront of his mind. He rubbed his temples with his fingertips, trying to ease the pain threatening to overtake.
Amrite blinked a few times, attempting to regain his bearings. When he opened his eyes fully, the life-like memory he could have sworn he had just seen seconds ago completely vanished. The sounds, the smells, the wetness - even his physical sensations were entirely altered. A familiar immobilising rigidity took over his body, stiffness latching onto his joints like an iron vice constricting him from all sides.
He found himself laying down on a small single bed with a metal frame. The mattress was thin and grey. The natural, serene light from the life-like memory was now replaced by a blinding artificial light that seemed to come from every side of the room at once. The fake light only served to exacerbate the blinding headache cascading through his skull. Amrite forced himself to keep his eyes open, pushing through the strain as his eyes adjusted to the blazing illumination.
Out of nowhere, a sharp, biting pain shot through his shoulders and neck, accompanied by a relentless stiffness that gripped his body - a familiar torment that clung to him like a second skin. With his now-adjusted eyesight, Amrite quickly realised something was terribly wrong. He didn't recognise where he was, when it was.
“W-What the… what the fuck…” Amrite stuttered, his raspy voice catching him off guard as the words stumbled out.
He raised his hands to his face, desperate to calm the panic clawing its way to the surface. He attempted to push himself onto his feet, but that’s when his muddled mind finally cleared enough to allow the scrambled sensations to flood through-sensations that had been prodding at the edges of his mind but were refused entry due to an inability to place them. He couldn’t move his arms. They were definitely still there, and he could wiggle his tight fingers, but when he tried to move them, a tangible force held them down.
It was only then that another realisation struck him, sharp and jarring. His phone. He couldn’t feel the familiar weight of it in his pocket, couldn’t remember when he last had it. Panic sharpened its claws. The thought of being unreachable, cut off, added another layer to the suffocating unease wrapping itself around him.
Amrite forced himself to crane his neck to see what was happening. His arms were bound together inside some type of white jumper, except this jumper had long straps running down and across the centre of his body. He strained against them chaotically, the effort igniting a familiar fire in his shoulders and wrists-a cruel reminder of the pain that never truly left him. To his dismay, there was not an ounce of give. Anxiety welled up in his throat, again threatening to take over once more.
He couldn’t tell if it was morning or night-there were no windows to offer a clue, just the harsh, artificial glare of overhead lights. The room he had woken to was an empty void of white, sterile and unyielding, save for a single mirror-a sheet of polished metal embedded in the wall next to the door. Every fibre of his being screamed for action, his fight-or-flight response twisting his instincts into chaos.
He jerked his arms against the straitjacket, his body contorting in a futile attempt to free himself. The straps dug into his skin, and the raw pressure sent his shoulders into a new crescendo of pain, a fire he could neither extinguish nor ignore. His breathing quickened, shallow and erratic, as he shifted on the cold floor, his legs scuffing uselessly against it in a desperate rhythm.
Stay calm. Stay calm. The words looped in his mind, hollow and powerless, drowned out by the rising tide of panic clawing at his chest. The headache pulsed behind his eyes, sharp and relentless, sapping the energy he needed to think clearly. He froze for a moment, his body trembling as he stared at the straitjacket clamped tightly around him, holding even his shallow breaths tight within his chest.
Was he in an asylum?
Amrite found himself dumbfounded by the realisation, his thoughts spiralling in frantic, fragmented bursts.
"When… Where… What the hell happened?" The question ricocheted through his mind, its edges sharp and unrelenting. No matter how hard he tried to grasp at the threads of his memory, they slipped away, leaving only an oppressive fog where clarity should have been.
"What was I doing before?" The words stumbled out of his dry mouth, his voice a cracked whisper as if speaking them aloud might force his mind to cooperate. But it didn’t. His thoughts churned violently, drilling into his skull with the force of his growing panic.
"Have I gone mad?" The idea erupted unbidden, raw and terrifying, clawing at his sanity. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to sift through the chaos in his mind for even a hint of an answer. Instead, the emptiness pressed down harder, suffocating him with its weight.
The uncertainty bulged in his throat until his thoughts were too difficult to slow down. Without anything left to do he pushed through the discomfort and moved himself onto his unsteady feet, walking towards the door haphazardly, his left knee lighting up with pain that he ignored. His eyes were laser-focused on the handle, which he hoped wasn't locked. Instinctively, he tried to grip the handle with his hand but belatedly realised again that his hands were completely restricted. Instead, he used his elbow to push it down. Amrite's heart began to thump faster as he realised the door was locked, a claustrophobic sense of being trapped consuming him.
"FUCK!" he yelled at the door and kicked it hard. The slipper on his foot did nothing to shield his toes. The pain shot through his foot, sharp and unforgiving, like needles piercing bone. As he doubled over, a thin sheen of sweat pricked his forehead, dripping salty reminders of his own stupidity into his stinging eyes.
The life-like memory that had seemed so tangible in his mind's eye just a few minutes ago was driven out as quickly as it appeared as the shock of discovering he was in an asylum settled in, making Amrite's ragged breathing only become more erratic.
"Is there anyone out there?" Amrite yelled at the door, hoping his voice could carry through the thick barrier that separated him from the world.
When no one answered, he started smashing the door with his shoulder, doing his best to ignore the thumping pain in his shoulder so that someone, anyone, would hear and let him out.
"Is there anyone there?" Amrite yelled again and again, his voice cracking as he slammed his body into the door. Each impact jarred him, the reverberations shooting through his muscles like electric shocks. Minutes passed in a haze of ragged breaths and mounting desperation, his skin clammy and slick with cold sweat. The sweat dripped down his temple and soaked the back of his neck, the sudden exertion leaving him trembling.
Just as his strength began to wane, a sound shattered the oppressive silence-a loud click and clack from the other side of the door. Then, it opened.
A tall figure wearing a white T-shirt that tightly clung to his large frame stood on the other side. Thick blue, colourless veins branched outwards across his tree trunk-like arms. His gleaming bald head reflected the artificial light as if it were another mirror.
"Calm down and sit" the burly figure said authoritatively.
Those words failed to subdue Amrite as he shrieked, "I just want to know how I got here, why I'm in a fucking straitjacket. Does anyone even know I’m here?" Amrite said, realising that his voice was much more high-strung than what he had intended.
The tall man just stared into Amrite's eyes intensely before responding.
"Sit down and wait," before closing the door and leaving him alone.
Seconds felt like minutes, and minutes felt like hours as Amrite waited for the man to come back. His heart was pounding in his chest, and each moment only served to spark new questions that pushed him further and further on edge. The door, without any warning, opened again, and the same bald head gleaned through.
"Come with me," the man said without offering any explanation.
Amrite, eager to escape the suffocating confines of the isolated room, forced himself to suppress his limp as he stepped out of the sterile, white prison. The brightly lit hallway beyond greeted him with a harsh glare, a jarring shift that made his eyes ache as he took in the new scenery.
Amrite struggled to suppress the rising tide of panic that threatened to overtake him. The harsh, fluorescent lights bore down on him, stabbing into his eyes and casting sharp reflections off the polished floor. The narrow hallway stretched endlessly ahead, a corridor of blinding white that seemed to constrict around him with every step. His gaze darted frantically, searching for any hint of escape - a door left ajar, a crack in the uniform walls; but found only sealed metal doors, each radiating an unsettling stillness. The sterile silence was deafening, interrupted only by the rhythmic scuff of their footsteps echoing in the hollow space.
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The eeriness of the situation gnawed at his insides, tying knots in his stomach that tightened with each passing moment. The man walking ahead of him, stocky and bald, didn’t glance back or offer a single word. He moved with a mechanical purpose, his broad shoulders swaying slightly as he led Amrite deeper into the blinding expanse.
“Can you tell me why I’m here?” Amrite blurted out, his voice cracking under the weight of his anxiety. He hated how weak he sounded, but the words spilled out before he could stop them.
The man paused for the briefest moment, turning his head just enough for Amrite to catch the glint of an emotionless gaze. His face was as blank and unapologetic as the walls around them. He didn’t speak-didn’t even acknowledge the question-before turning back and resuming his deliberate pace down the hallway.
Amrite’s chest tightened as frustration and fear warred inside him. He swallowed hard and forced his trembling legs to keep up, each step feeling like it was leading him further into the unknown.
Finally, after climbing two sets of stairs and walking down another narrow corridor, they reached a room with a silver sign on the door reading, Dr. Mendez. The man stopped and gestured silently for Amrite to enter.
Amrite hesitated, his pulse quickening as his eyes flicked to the door and back to the man. He still hadn’t said a word - not on - and now that they’d reached the end of their journey, Amrite’s nerves were fraying. The man’s expression remained as blank as ever, his bulky frame and stiff posture only adding to the oppressive unease.
“Eggman” Amrite thought, naming him after the round, bald villain from sonic. The comparison offered no comfort; if anything, it made the situation feel more absurd. He swallowed hard, unsure of what awaited him beyond that door, but with "Eggman" standing there like an immovable statue, there was no turning back.
The bald man, impatience plastered on his face, sternly repeated his gesture, and Amrite with no other options shuffled into the room. The sudden warmth of the space caught him off guard. It was a stark departure from the sterile brightness of the corridors - a cosy office with bookshelves lining the walls, their spines forming a mosaic of colour. A large wooden desk dominated the centre, its polished surface reflecting the soft glow of a lamp. In front of it sat a comfortable-looking armchair, its plush cushions inviting him to sink into them.
Behind the desk sat a petite woman, her small frame almost swallowed by the high-backed chair. For a moment, Amrite had to lean forward to be sure someone was even there. Her greying hair framed a face that was both weathered and sharp, the wrinkles around her eyes doing little to dull the piercing intelligence that sparkled within them. Despite her diminutive stature, she exuded an air of quiet authority, her presence filling the room as effortlessly as the books that lined its walls.
With a slight smile, she gestured for Amrite to sit down in the armchair, her movements deliberate and calm, a stark contrast to the tension he’d carried with him all the way here.
"Hello, Amrite. I'm Dr. Mendez," she said in a calm voice. “It’s good to see that you are looking well, how are you feeling”?
Amrite awkwardly sat in his seat, the straitjacket making it difficult to find a comfortable position.
“I…, I… just want to know why I’m here, why I’m in a straitjacket. I can’t remember how I got here, when I got here-nothing at all,” Amrite stammered, his voice trembling.
Dr. Mendez sighed softly and removed her glasses, her gaze locking onto his. She didn’t speak immediately, letting the silence stretch long enough for Amrite’s nerves to fray further.
“Amrite, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but you were brought here due to a severe episode you had about three months ago.”
Amrite froze, her words landing like a physical blow. His chest tightened as panic clawed its way up his throat. “No, I can’t have been here that long” he blurted out, shaking his head as if trying to physically dislodge her statement. “Three months ago? I don’t remember anything - I don’t even remember coming here!” His voice cracking under his nerves, each word louder and more frantic than the last.
Dr. Mendez nodded with a measured sympathy, her calmness only making his disbelief burn hotter. “Memory loss is not uncommon with the type of episodes you’ve been experiencing,” she said gently. “It’s possible that you may not remember everything that led up to your arrival here. Our primary goal is to help you understand what’s happening to you and help you recover.”
Amrite felt a mixture of disbelief and terror as he tried to process the information. His mind raced with questions, but one in particular stood out.
"What happened in this episode?” Amrite asked.
Dr. Mendez studied Amrite for a few further seconds before responding.
“When responders found you, you were in a hospital harming yourself.” Mendez stated bluntly.
“When you lost consciousness you were taken under care here, and since then you haven’t been responsive to any treatment so you’ve been brought here for observation.”
Amrite took in this information unsure of what to make of it.
“But why… I mean, how did this even happen?” Amrite asked, his voice unsteady.
“That’s something we were hoping to discuss with you,” Dr. Mendez replied, her tone steady and measured. “This is the first time you’ve been willing to talk with us, which is a really positive sign. If you continue to work with us, I believe we’ll have you out of here before long.”
Amrite stared at her, words catching in his throat as he tried to process what she was saying. His mind swirled with questions, none of which seemed to fit together. Mendez held his gaze, her expression patient but expectant, as though waiting for him to decide what came next.
“It’s just that… I don’t… remember… anything,” Amrite said finally, each word dragging its way out of his mouth. “What have I even been doing for the last three months? And… why am I still in a straitjacket?”
Mendez leaned forward slightly, her calm expression remaining steady as she spoke. “From what we’ve observed, you’ve mostly kept to yourself. You haven’t spoken to anyone until now, but there were moments-incidents, really-where you’d pull at your own hair or scratch yourself. That’s why we had to put you in the straitjacket.”
She let her words settle for a moment before asking gently, “How are you feeling right now?”
“I’m just…” Amrite hesitated, his voice trembling as he tried to form the words. “Scared. I don’t know what to do next or how this even happened. What does it mean? Does anyone… does anyone know why I lost…” His voice faltered, and he swallowed hard before finishing.
“…why I lost my mind?”
Mendez’s gaze softened, though her tone remained professional. “We’re not sure yet,” she admitted. “These episodes can happen for a number of reasons. But the fact that you’ve regained your senses is a very encouraging sign. Let’s start there-what’s the very last thing you remember?”
Amrite tried to piece together the last thing he could remember, but his thoughts were a chaotic jumble, fragments flashing without rhyme or reason. He recalled trying to call his dad and hearing no answer, the frustration of leaving work-and then… nothing. It was as if someone had reached into his mind and scooped out his memories, leaving behind an empty void that felt cold.
“Maybe calling my dad.” Amrite said, looking back up at Mendez. Does he know I’m here?”
Mendez gave Amrite a sympathetic look, changing her expression for the first time since he entered.
“We’ve tried contacting him at his last known number, but there hasn’t been any response.”
For the first time since waking up, Amrite felt a flicker of relief. His dad never answered unknown numbers - that much he was certain of - and he kept that to himself. If his dad ever found out he was here… no, that would only make things worse. It was better this way, better that his dad remained in the dark. Right now, Amrite could only manage the weight of his own chaos.
“Yeah I can reach him, I just need my phone”.
“Sure, we’ll be able to get your phone back soon. Also, how are your joints feeling?” Mendez asked.
Our tests show you have rheumatism,” Mendez said, reviewing his report. “Everything else looks normal, but we want to make sure you’re not in any discomfort.”
“I’m in a lot of pain,” Amrite replied. The long trek up the staircase and through the hallways had taken its toll, aggravating the constant ache in his joints. His fingers, clenched and twisted from strain, felt stiff and unyielding, while each step of his limp sent sharp, radiating pain through his legs-a cruel reminder of his fight against his body’s rebellion.
“Could I get some painkillers?” he asked, shifting uncomfortably. “My shoulders are throbbing from being locked in place in this straitjacket as well, so I badly need to get out of it.”
“Sure, we can get you the painkillers, and take off the jacket now that you've calmed down.” Mendez said. I think it will do you good and we can start chatting first thing tomorrow morning after you get some rest, how does that sound?
As if on cue, eggman opened the door and strutted towards them.
“Please take the jacket off Amrite and escort him back to his bed Hue” Mendez said.
He quickly took off Amrite’s restraints and Amrite finally was able to stretch out his stiff arms.. “Come on, let's go” Eggman Hue said as Amrite got back onto his feet. He didn't fully understand what was happening to him, but he knew that for now he had to trust Dr. Mendez and stay composted if he wanted to get out of here. With a final deep breath to steady his nerves, he thanked Mendez and left, quickly finding himself back in his cell.
"Cell," Amrite muttered under his breath, the word bitter and heavy as it settled in his mind. This wasn’t a room-it was a prison, plain and simple. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stared at the metal mirror embedded in the wall, trying to make sense of everything he’d heard that day. The reflection staring back at him felt like a stranger’s: bloodshot eyes framed by dark circles, wild, tangled hair, and a scruff of facial hair that seemed to have grown out of rebellion rather than neglect.
“As long as I try my best to get better, I will get better,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt. He met his own gaze in the mirror, the weight of his resolve pushing back against the doubt threatening to creep in. For now, it was enough. It had to be.
“Whatever happened, can be fixed, I have people here to help me and now I just need to calm down, I’m not crazy” Amrite said to himself trying to reassure himself, taking some slow deep breaths until he felt his anxiety somewhat lessen.
Would you like to begin a new voyage?
A robotic emotionless voice suddenly blurted out in his mind tinged with an icy coldness.
Amrite jumped to his feet in fright. Looking around the room he wasn’t able to locate where the voice came from. “Who said that?” Amrite said with a trembling voice.
Would you like to begin a new voyage?
“Oh fuck” Amrite glowered, as he realised that he wasn’t able to find the voice, because it was coming from inside his head.
Would you like to begin a new voyage? The voice resonated out again.
This can’t be real, what’s the fuck is a voyage. And why the fuck would I want to start a voyage” Amrite said, his heart thumping faster and faster.
Acknowledged. Voyage Initiated…
Barely registering the words, Amrite’s body fell to the floor as the world around him went blank.