Artist/Author: rosesofred
Title: Putnam Psychiatric Hospital
Fandom: Moon Knight, MCU, Original Work
Summary: Isaac is the youngest of three and the only one of his brothers diagnosed with schizophrenia. When things start getting bad again, his older brother David steps in to do what he thinks is best and takes him to Putnam Psychiatric Hospital.
Notes & Warnings: drugging, needles, forced showering, mentions of abuse
Dr. Harrow's office felt smaller than usual. The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting shadows across his desk where Isaac sat slumped in the chair across from him. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles prominent beneath them.
"Let's talk about yesterday." Dr. Harrow settled into his chair, clipboard balanced on his knee. "Specifically about the radio."
Isaac's fingers picked at a loose thread on his scrub pants. "What about it?"
"You stole it from the nurse's station."
"I borrowed it."
"You took it without permission and created a significant disruption." Dr. Harrow's pen tapped against the clipboard. “Sarah had to be given a PRN afterward. She spent the night in the quiet room."
Isaac's jaw tightened. "She was just dancing."
"She was having a manic episode triggered by overstimulation. The music, the chaos and attention was a recipe for disaster." Dr. Harrow leaned forward slightly. "You enabled that, Isaac. Whether you meant to or not."
The accusation felt heavy. Isaac's eyes dropped to his hands, watching his own fingers twist the loose thread tighter.
"I just wanted to help her."
"By stealing hospital property and encouraging disruptive behaviour?" Dr. Harrow made a note. "That's not help, Isaac. That's poor judgment."
Isaac swallowed. "You don't let anyone have anything. No music, no freedom, nothing. Everyone's just stuck here rotting."
"This is a psychiatric facility, not a prison. The restrictions exist for patient safety."
"You drug us into compliance and call it treatment."
Dr. Harrow's expression remained neutral. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"
"What else would you call it?"
"I'd call it managing acute psychiatric symptoms so patients can stabilize enough to engage in actual therapy." Dr. Harrow set his pen down. "But I'm curious why you felt compelled to take that radio. Was someone pressuring you?"
Isaac's eyes flicked up, then away. "No."
"Sarah asked you to get it?"
"No. I just..." Isaac trailed off, the words stuck somewhere in his throat. “I wanted to have some fun, that was all."
Dr. Harrow watched Isaac's face, the way his expression remained blank. He picked up his pen again, making another note. “Fun,” the doctor said. "And was it fun?"
Isaac's shoulders hunched. "For a minute, yeah. Everyone shuffles around like zombies. Sarah actually smiled."
"Your good intentions created chaos. Sarah spent the night sedated and isolated. Was that the fun you intended?"
Isaac looked away. "That's on you."
Dr. Harrow set the clipboard aside. "Tell me about the voices, Isaac. What are they saying about all this?"
Isaac sighed. “They haven’t said anything about it today."
Dr. Harrow hummed. “What about yesterday when you took the radio?"
Isaac's leg bounced, his heel tapping against the linoleum. The sound echoed in the quiet office.
"They were quiet then too."
"That's interesting." Dr. Harrow reached for his cane, adjusting it where it leaned against his desk. "In our last session, you mentioned they were quite vocal. Yet during this incident, one that caused so much chaos, they had nothing to say.” Dr. Harrow made another note. “They didn’t say anything?"
"Sometimes they're clear. Sometimes they're just noise."
"And when you took the radio, what were you feeling?"
Isaac picked at the thread again. “Pretty normal."
"Define normal for me."
"Like myself." Isaac pulled the thread taut. “Like shit, I guess."
Dr. Harrow made another note. “I’m going to increase your Latuda."
Isaac's head snapped up. "What? No. That stuff makes me feel like I'm underwater."
"The dose you're on clearly isn't managing your symptoms." Dr. Harrow wrote something on his prescription pad. "You're demonstrating impulsive behaviour, poor judgment, and the auditory hallucinations persist despite your claims otherwise."
"I'm not lying about the voices."
"I didn't say you were." Dr. Harrow tore the sheet from the pad. "But your actions suggest you're not in control. The medication will help with that."
Isaac's hands clenched into fists. "You just want me docile. Easier to handle."
"I want you stable enough to process what's happening to you." Dr. Harrow set the prescription aside. "Right now, you're bouncing between episodes without any real insight into your condition."
Isaac glared at his lap. "When do I start the new dose?"
"Tonight. The nurse will bring it with your evening medications." Dr. Harrow returned to his desk. "I'll be monitoring you closely for the next few days. If you experience any side effects I want you to alert the staff immediately."
Isaac nodded, not trusting himself to speak. So he had to take a higher dose, whatever. He wasn’t going to take the pills anyway. He’d just hide the pills in his cheek pouch the way he did last time.
"One more thing." Dr. Harrow said. “Your brother called and said he’d be visiting today. Some good news."
Isaac's stomach dropped. "David's coming?"
"He called this morning. Should be here around two." Dr. Harrow watched Isaac's face carefully. "You don't seem pleased."
"I'm just surprised."
"When was the last time you saw him?"
Isaac's fingers resumed picking at the thread. “He brought me here."
"And how did that go?"
“It was awful. They made me strip."
Dr. Harrow made another note. “The intake can be unpleasant."
"They took my clothes, my phone, and everything I had. David left me here."
"He was concerned about you."
"He was embarrassed."
Dr. Harrow tapped his pen against the clipboard. "We'll revisit that after his visit. For now, I want you to attend group therapy this afternoon."
Isaac's leg stopped bouncing. "I don't want to talk about my feelings with a bunch of strangers."
"You don't have to share. Just listen."
"Fine."
The rec room smelled like stale coffee and antiseptic. Chairs formed a circle near the windows. Isaac slumped into one near the back, crossing his arms as other patients filtered in. Sarah entered, her eyes glazed and movements sluggish. She didn't look at him.
Dr. Martinez, the group facilitator, settled into his chair with a clipboard. "Good afternoon, everyone. Let's begin with check-ins. How's everyone feeling today?"
Silence stretched across the circle. Someone coughed. Sarah stared at her hands.
"Anyone?" She scanned the group. "No one wants to share?"
Isaac sank lower in his seat. This was going to be a long sesion.
After group therapy, the nurse came up to Isaac and told him he had a visitor. He was escorted to the waiting room to find David sitting there, holding Isaac’s childhood stuffed bunny, Jumper.
“Brother!” Isaac ran to him, too happy to bother with how childish he looked running in for a hug. But David didn’t care. He stood up and scooped the younger man up into his arms, hugging him tight. “Hey baby bro. How are you doing?”
Isaac buried his face against David's shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of his brother's cologne mixed with the faint smell of motor oil from the garage where he worked. For the first time in days, something felt right.
"I want to go home." The words tumbled out before Isaac could stop them, muffled against David's leather jacket. He felt his brother's arms tighten around him.
"I know you do." David's voice held that same gentle tone he'd used when Isaac was small and scraped his knee. He was seven years older so he’d been a teenager when Isaac was still little. "But you're not ready yet."
Isaac pulled back, studying his brother's face. He looked tired, but well kept. His dark brown hair was combed back and styled, he was clean shaved, but his bright blue eyes looked worried.
"The doctors say you need to stay a bit longer." David guided Isaac to the chair, keeping one hand on his shoulder as he sat down. "But I brought you something."
He held out the stuffed bunny. Isaac's eyes widened as he took Jumper, the worn grey fur soft between his fingers. The rabbit's ears were long and floppy, one bent forward and one back.
"You kept him?"
"Of course I did. Found him in a box when I was helping Mom clear out the attic." David's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Thought you might want a friend in here."
Isaac clutched the bunny closer. "How's work?"
"Same old shit. Fixed three engines this week, all of them older than dirt." David settled into his own chair. "Boss is still a dick, but the pay's decent."
The normalcy of it wrapped around Isaac like a blanket. David talked about ordinary things. The weather, a film he'd seen, the new sushi place that had opened down the street. Nothing about hospitals or medication or why Isaac was here.
"Mom called me," David said eventually.
Isaac's grip on Jumper tightened. "What did she say?"
"The usual. That you're being dramatic. That you just need to pull yourself together." David's voice hardened. "I told her where she could shove that opinion."
"You didn't have to."
"Yes, I absolutely did." David turned to face him fully. "She had her chance to be a proper mother. She chose not to take it."
Isaac stared down at Jumper's black button eyes. His throat felt thick.
“Mom and Dad just let you rot in your room while you spiraled. That’s not parenting, that’s just- I don’t know. That’s bullshit is what it is.” David looked genuinely angry. His painted black nails were starting to chip and it made Isaac feel nostalgic. He missed those simple moments. Back when they’d watch Star Trek on the couch, make some popcorn, and paint each other’s nails. Dad always hated it, he’d call both of them the f slur for doing something feminine like that. As if gender norms even mattered now a days. Maybe his parents were a little awful. But he still missed them.
"They did try," Isaac said quietly, though the words felt hollow even as he spoke them. "Mom made dinner every night. Dad worked hard to pay for everything."
David's expression softened, but his eyes remained fierce. "Basic necessities aren't love, Isaac. They're the bare minimum."
Isaac turned Jumper over in his hands, fingers tracing the stitching along the rabbit's belly where David had sewn it back together years ago after their father had thrown it across the room during one of his rages.
"Remember when you were eight and had that nightmare about the monster under your bed?"
Isaac nodded. He'd been terrified, convinced something with claws and teeth was waiting to grab him.
"You came to Mom and Dad's room first. Dad told you to stop being a baby and go back to bed. Mom just rolled over." David's voice carried no judgment, just matter-of-fact disappointment. "So you came to me instead."
"You checked under the bed with your phone light."
"And in the wardrobe. Behind the curtains. Every corner." David smiled, the anger fading from his features. "Then I made you hot chocolate and we watched cartoons until you fell asleep on my floor."
Isaac's chest tightened. He remembered curling up in David's comforter, feeling safe for the first time in weeks.
"That's what parents are supposed to do, Isaac. They're supposed to chase away the monsters, not tell you to deal with them yourself."
A woman's voice came over the intercom, announcing visiting hours would end in ten minutes. David's jaw clenched.
"I have to go soon."
"I know."
"But I'll be back. Every week, I promise." David reached over and squeezed Isaac's hand. "And when you get out of here, you're coming to stay with me. No arguments. We can get you on disability or help you look for a part time job, whichever. Or hell, even both. But we’ll make it work."
Isaac's eyes filled with tears. The offer felt too good to be true, like something that might evaporate if he reached for it too eagerly.
"You don't have to do that. I'm a mess, David. I can barely get out of bed some days."
"So? My apartment’s got two bedrooms and I work during the day. You can take all the time you need to figure things out." David's thumb rubbed across Isaac's knuckles. "Besides, I could use the company. It gets lonely eating takeaway by myself every night."
The casual way he said it made Isaac's chest ache. David was 36 and should be out dating, building his own life, not taking care of his broken little brother.
"You don't have to sacrifice your life for me."
"Who says I'm sacrificing anything?" David's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Maybe I want my little brother around. Maybe I've missed having someone to argue with about which Star Trek captain is the best."
Isaac managed a forced smile. It took effort to make his face move now. "Picard, obviously."
"Kirk, and you know it." David grinned, then his expression grew serious again. "But first, you need to focus on getting better. Let the doctors here do their job. Dr. Harrow says you're making progress."
Isaac shifted Jumper to one arm, using his free hand to wipe his eyes. "It doesn't feel like progress. I’m still seeing and hearing the demons. They’re still chasing me. I’m not safe here."
"Hey." David's voice went soft. "It's going to be okay. I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but you're safe here. The demons can't actually hurt you."
Isaac shook his head, clutching Jumper tighter. "You don't understand. They're real. They’re terrifying and they keep telling me about the end of the world. And sometimes I can see them in my room when its dark and-"
"Isaac." David's hand found his shoulder, steady and warm. "I believe that you're seeing them. I believe they feel real to you. But the medication is helping, right? Dr. Harrow said you ate today."
Isaac felt a guilty pit in his stomach. He hadn’t actually eaten but here was his brother happy to hear that he had. He looked down at the table, unsure of how to answer. Finally he just nodded his head.
The intercom crackled again. "Visiting hours are now over. All visitors must exit the building."
David stood, his chair scraping against the linoleum floor. Isaac's chest constricted.
"No, wait." Isaac grabbed David's wrist, his fingers digging into the worn leather of his brother's jacket sleeve. "Don't go yet. Please."
"I have to, Isaac. They won't let me stay past visiting hours."
"Just five more minutes." Isaac's voice cracked. He could feel the familiar spiral starting, the panic that always came when people left him alone. "I can't. I don't want to go back to my room."
David's face softened. He sat back down, ignoring the nurse who appeared in the doorway with a pointed look at her smart watch.
"What's wrong with your room?"
Isaac pressed Jumper against his chest, feeling himself start to spiral. “The demons are in there. It’s not protected like my room at home, I don’t have my holy water or crucifixes or rosaries.”
”Isaac.” David’s voice was surprisingly calm. “You can’t have those things here. But the staff here will protect you, okay? Demons aren’t going to hurt you.”
Isaac's breath hitched as David moved towards the door. The nurse in the doorway tapped her clipboard, her expression stern but not unkind.
"Sir, I really do need you to leave now."
David nodded, then turned back to Isaac. "I'll see you next week, okay? Same time."
"No." The word came out as a whisper, desperate and pleading. "Please don't leave me here alone."
"You're not alone. The nurses are here, the other patients, the doctors."
"They don't understand." Isaac's voice cracked, tears spilling over his cheeks. "Nobody here understands what's happening to me. The demons are waiting for me to let down my guard, they wait until I fall asleep or until I’m in the shower.”
David sighed, looking at his little brother’s tear streaked face. "I have to go, baby brother. But you have Jumper now. Remember when you were scared of the monsters under the bed? Jumper kept you safe then."
Isaac shook his head violently, his eyes turning red. "That was different. These aren't childhood fears, David. These are real demons. They're going to drag me to hell and nobody here believes me."
The nurse stepped forward. "Mr. Mohammadi-"
"I know." David was obviously frustrated, but not at Isaac. "Listen to me. You survived a bachelor’s degree with schizophrenia, you can survive a hospital trip with it. Okay? I love you.” David kissed him on the top of the head, his heart clenching as he had to leave. He could see Isaac following him like a puppy, desperate to leave with him, but the nurse stopped him at the doorway. He could still hear him crying as he made his way down the hall towards the entrance, each step carrying him further away from his distraught brother.
After David was gone, Isaac shuffled back to his room, his feet silent against the cold linoleum. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting everything in harsh white light that made the pale green walls look sickly. He clutched Jumper against his chest, the stuffed rabbit's familiar weight the only thing anchoring him to something real.
His room felt smaller than before. The narrow bed with its scratchy white sheets, the single window with its view of the car park, the small desk bolted to the wall. Everything looked the same, but it felt different now that David had gone. Emptier. More exposed.
Isaac climbed onto the bed and pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping both arms around Jumper. The rabbit's grey fur was worn smooth in places from years of tough love, and one of his button eyes hung slightly looser than the other. Isaac pressed his face against the soft fabric and breathed in. He could still smell traces of David's cologne clinging to the fur.
A soft knock interrupted him and Isaac's head snapped up as a nurse stepped through the doorway, her sneakers squeaking against the floor. She had curly blonde hair and dimples.
"Hey Isaac, it's shower day."
Isaac's grip on Jumper tightened as he sat up. "I can’t."
"I know you don't like it, but you need to keep clean." The nurse smiled at him patiently. “Would you prefer a man help you?”
Isaac shook his head. The shower meant being alone. Naked. Vulnerable. It meant leaving Jumper behind and being open to the demons. They always watched him bathe, poking at his scars and telling him about the apocalypse.
"I'm Jenny, by the way. I know we haven't properly met yet, but I'll be working the evening shift in this unit for the next few weeks."
Isaac stared at her, noticing how she already had sterile gloves on. She’d come prepared.
"I can't shower today."
"Isaac, you haven't showered since you arrived three days ago." Jenny's tone remained patient, but firm. "The doctors won't clear you for group activities if you don't maintain basic hygiene."
“I don’t even want to do group activities.”
"I know, but it's part of your treatment plan." Jenny stepped further into the room, her hands clasped in front of her. "How about this. You can bring your rabbit with you. We can set him on the counter where you can see him, that way you won’t be alone."
Isaac's eyes darted between Jenny and the doorway behind her. His fingers worked nervously through Jumper's fur.
"The demons watch me and talk when I'm naked."
Jenny's expression didn't change, no flicker of disbelief or condescension. "That must be frightening."
"They whisper about the end times. About how my body is marked for damnation. My parents say my eyes will burn out of my sockets after the tribulations when the demons torture me." Isaac's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "They count my scars."
"Would it help if I stayed outside the bathroom door? I could talk to you the whole time."
Isaac shook his head. There was nothing that could get him into the shower today, aside from his brother. And his brother had already left.
Jenny studied Isaac's face, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the way his shoulders hunched protectively around Jumper. She'd worked psychiatric wards for six years and recognized the signs of someone who needed help.
"Okay," Jenny said. "We don't have to do the shower right now. But can you tell me when you last ate something?"
Isaac's stomach clenched. He'd lied to David about eating, and the guilt sat heavy in his chest alongside the constant hunger gnawing at his insides.
"Lunch." The words came out automatically, it was easy to lie when he kept doing it.
Jenny nodded, but her eyes remained watchful. "What did you have?"
Isaac's mind went blank. He hadn't paid attention to what other patients were eating, too focused on avoiding the cafeteria entirely. The smell of food made him nauseous, and the thought of sitting in that bright, noisy room surrounded by strangers felt overwhelming.
"Toast," he said finally.
"With anything on it?"
"Butter."
Jenny nodded her head and looked at the door. “I’ll have to consult with your doctor. I’ll be right back, okay?”
Jenny left the room, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. Isaac pressed his face deeper into Jumper's fur, listening to the familiar sounds of the ward settling into evening routine. Somewhere down the hall, a television droned with some terrible movie. A door slammed. Someone laughed, the sound sharp and brittle.
Isaac didn’t even notice his hunger anymore, he’d grown so used to ignoring it. The thought of food made bile rise in his throat. Everything tasted like nothing anyway, and the cafeteria felt too bright, too loud, too full of people who might be demons in disguise.
His parents' voices echoed in his head, their stern warnings about the end times and how his body would suffer for his sins. They'd made him fast before, called it spiritual discipline when he was home from university during breaks. Sometimes for days at a time, until he felt light-headed and pure.
Footsteps approached again, heavier this time. Dr. Harrow appeared in the doorway, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up. He looked tired.
"Isaac? Jenny tells me you're refusing your shower."
Isaac pulled Jumper closer against his chest and stared at Dr. Harrow's scuffed shoes. The leather was worn at the toes, practical shoes for someone who spent long hours on hospital floors.
"I can't shower today."
"Jenny mentioned that." Dr. Harrow stepped into the room, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. "She also said you told her you had toast for lunch."
Isaac's grip on Jumper tightened. The rabbit's button eyes stared up at nothing.
"I did have toast."
"The kitchen staff keep records, Isaac. Today was meatloaf, green beans, and rolls."
Heat crawled up Isaac's neck. Dr. Harrow's voice held no accusation, just tired patience, which somehow made the lying feel worse. He’d been caught red handed.
"I wasn't hungry."
“Did you lie about eating lunch, Isaac? You know we can’t help you unless you cooperate with us.”
Isaac's throat felt tight. He stared down at Jumper's worn fur, his fingers tracing the familiar stitching along the rabbit's ears. The silence stretched between them until it felt suffocating.
"Yes," he whispered finally.
"Thank you for being honest." Dr. Harrow pulled the plastic chair closer to the bed and sat down, his knees nearly touching Isaac's feet. "How long has it been since you've eaten anything?"
Isaac's stomach twisted. Time felt strange here, days blending together in a haze of medication schedules and group sessions he'd avoided. "I don't know. I can’t remember. Since before I got here."
"That's a long time to go without food."
"I'm not hungry."
"Have you at least been drinking your ensures?”
Isaac's eyes darted away from Dr. Harrow's face, focusing instead on a scuff mark on the wall behind the doctor's shoulder. The ensures. They brought him one with every meal, chocolate-flavoured liquid nutrition in little plastic bottles.
"Yes," he said quietly. "I've been drinking them."
It didn’t feel right to keep lying but he had to. Each morning, afternoon, and evening, he'd accepted the bottles without a fight, waited until he was alone, and poured the thick brown liquid down the toilet. He didn’t need an ensure, he needed to go home.
Dr. Harrow leaned back in his chair, his hand resting on his knee. "That's good. At least you're getting some calories."
Dr. Harrow studied Isaac's face, noting the hollow look around his eyes and the way his cheekbones seemed more prominent than was healthy. The boy was clearly not drinking the ensures, but pushing the issue now would only make him retreat further.
"Alright," Dr. Harrow said, standing up from the plastic chair. "We'll keep monitoring your nutrition. But Isaac, the shower isn't optional. You need to maintain basic hygiene while you're here."
Isaac pressed his face against Jumper's fur, his voice muffled. "The demons watch me."
"I understand that feels very real to you." Dr. Harrow straightened his tie, glancing toward the doorway where Jenny waited. "But we still need to help you take care of yourself."
Isaac didn't respond, curling tighter around the stuffed rabbit. Dr. Harrow watched him for a moment longer, then stepped out into the corridor as Jenny followed him out.
"I suspect he's not drinking the ensures either," Dr. Harrow said quietly, keeping his voice low enough that Isaac wouldn't overhear. "But don't confront him about it tonight. He's already overwhelmed from his brother's visit. When you bring him his ensure, stay to make sure he drinks it. If he doesn’t, just mark it down in his chart.”
Jenny nodded, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "What about the shower?"
“Use the three strikes rule. Ask him three times over the next hour. If he refuses all three, we'll try a different approach tomorrow. Maybe we can get his brother to encourage him over the phone."
They thankfully left him alone for the next hour, only bothering him two more times to ask if he wanted a shower. Each time Isaac told Jenny no and she didn’t push it. When it was dinner time, Dr. Harrow had already left for the day. Jenny came to his room to tell him it was time to eat but he refused.
Instead of forcing him, Jenny came back to his room half an hour later carrying an Ensure and a clipboard. Isaac hadn't moved from his position on the bed, still curled around Jumper like the stuffed rabbit could shield him from everything wrong with the world.
"Isaac? It's time for your evening ensure."
She held the chocolate bottle in one hand, a bendy straw already inserted through the foil top. The liquid sloshed around as she stepped into the room.
Isaac lifted his head just enough to see the bottle, then buried his face back into Jumper's grey fur. His stomach cramped at the sight of it, though he couldn't tell if it was from hunger or revulsion.
"Thanks."
"Dr. Harrow says you've been doing well with these." Jenny settled into the plastic chair, the bottle balanced on her knee. "Would you like me to leave it on your bedside table?"
Isaac's fingers worked nervously through Jumper's worn fur. He could feel Jenny watching him, patient and calm. She wasn't pushing like some of the other nurses did. He nodded his head and she set the Ensure down on the table. He looked up at her, his brows creased in confusion. “What are you doing?”
“Dr. Harrow wanted me to watch and make sure you drink it tonight.”
“I don’t need an audience.”
"I know," Jenny said, her voice gentle. "But it's doctor's orders. I can sit here quietly, or we can chat while you drink it. Your choice."
Isaac stared at the brown bottle, its contents thick and unappetizing. His stomach churned at the thought of forcing the liquid down, but Jenny's presence made it impossible to pour it away like he'd been doing.
"I'm not thirsty."
"We need to make sure your body gets what it needs." Jenny leaned back in the chair, making herself comfortable. "Your brother seemed really worried about you today."
Isaac glared at the floor, remembering how worried David had seemed today. He looked tired, too. It made Isaac feel bad that his brother was taking time out of his busy day just to visit him when he already had so much else to do.
"I'm not going to drink it." The words came out flat. Jenny's expression didn't change, but Isaac caught the slight shift in her posture as she leaned forward.
"Can you tell me why?"
Isaac frowned. His brother had looked so hopeful when he mentioned Isaac eating lunch. The lie made him feel bad.
"It makes me sick. Everything makes me sick."
"Have you been feeling nauseous? That could be a side effect of your medication."
Isaac shook he knew it wasn’t a side effect because he wasn’t taking any medication. Food just felt wrong somehow, like his body was rejecting the very idea of nourishment. His parents had always said fasting brought clarity, spiritual purity. Maybe they'd been right.
"I just can't."
Jenny smiled sympathetically. "I understand that it feels impossible right now."
Isaac lifted his head slightly, peering at her through strands of unwashed hair. "You won't tell Dr. Harrow, will you?"
The question came out small and desperate, like a child asking not to get in trouble for breaking something valuable. Jenny frowned at the vulnerability in his voice. "Isaac, I have to document what happens during my shift. It's part of your medical care."
Isaac looked down. He pressed Jumper tighter against his chest, his shoulders hunching forward as if he could make himself disappear into the stuffed rabbit's worn fur.
"Please don't tell him I haven't been drinking them."
Jenny's expression softened, but her voice remained steady. "Isaac, the doctors need to know what's really happening so they can help you properly."
"They'll be angry with me." His voice came out muffled against Jumper's fur. "Everyone's already disappointed. David thinks I'm getting better, but I'm not. I'm still being hunted by demons."
"Nobody's angry with you for struggling. That's why you're here."
Isaac lifted his head, his eyes red-rimmed and desperate. "But I lied to David today. I told him I ate lunch when I didn't. He looked so happy when he thought I was eating."
Jenny nodded her head. "I understand you want to make your brother happy, but lying isn't helping anyone. The treatment plan exists for a reason."
"The treatment plan isn't working." Isaac clenched his jaw, his shoulders stiff. "I'm still seeing demons everywhere. The medication just makes me feel foggy."
"Recovery takes time. But skipping meals and lying about it will only make things worse." Jenny laced her fingers together on her knee. "Your body needs fuel to heal, just like your mind does."
Isaac stared at the Ensure bottle on his bedside table, its brown contents looking more revolting by the minute. "What if I drink half?"
"The whole bottle, Isaac."
He picked up the bottle, making a face at the smell of the chalky chocolate. The plastic was smooth and cold, they’d kept it chilled before giving it to him. His stomach clenched at the thought of drinking it but he brought the straw to his mouth, forcing down a sip.
"I can't. It tastes wrong." He set the bottle down, grimacing at the taste.
Jenny marked something in her clipboard. "I'll note that you attempted it."
The next morning arrived grey and overcast, rain pattering against Isaac's window. He’d gotten away with hiding his pills again last night, shoving them under the mattress where he’d hidden the plastic knife. It was becoming his little safe place where he could keep all his secrets.
When the rest of the unit woke up, a nurse with brown hair came in to wake him up. He pulled the blanket over his head, turning away from the door.
"Time for breakfast, Mr. Mohammadi."
"I'm not hungry."
"Cafeteria or room service. Your choice."
Isaac peeked out from under the blanket. "Room service?"
"I bring you a tray, you eat in here. But you still have to eat."
"Room service,” Isaac said. He was hoping he could just flush the food and claim he’d eaten like with the ensures, but he wasn’t that lucky. When the nurse came back, she sat in the plastic chair to watch him eat, settting a plastic tray on his bedside table with a soft clatter. Scrambled eggs, two pieces of toast, a small cup of orange juice, and another chocolate Ensure. The smell of the eggs made Isaac's stomach revolt.
"I'm not eating that."
"You need to eat something, Isaac." The nurse consulted her clipboard.
“What’s your name?” He asked, hoping to shift the focus.
"I'm Marcy. I'll be covering the morning shift today."
Isaac pulled the blanket higher, leaving only his eyes visible above the scratchy hospital fabric. Jumper was tucked against his chest underneath the covers, a small comfort in the fluorescent-lit room.
"The eggs smell wrong."
"Would you prefer just the toast?"
"No."
Sarah leaned back in the chair, her pen clicking against the clipboard. "Isaac, you haven't eaten anything substantial in days. Your body needs fuel."
"My body doesn't want it." Isaac's voice came out muffled through the blanket. "Everything tastes like cardboard."
"That's a side effect of not eating. Your body is in starvation mode."
He sat up slowly, the blanket falling away from his face. He had dark circles around his eyes and his scrubs hung a little looser on his frame. Marcy made a note of his refusal on her clipboard.
"I can't force food down. It makes me sick."
"Have you actually been sick, or does it just feel that way?"
Isaac considered the question. He hadn't vomited, but the thought of eating made his throat close up. "It feels that way."
"That's your anxiety talking, not your stomach." Marcy crossed her legs. "What if we start with one bite of toast?"
"No."
"Isaac."
"I said no." His voice came out sharper than intended, surprising them both. "I'm not eating anything today."
Marcy marked something else on her clipboard, her expression patient but concerned. "I've documented your refusal."
Isaac turned his face toward the rain-streaked window, dismissing her without another word.
Sighing, the nurse stood up and took the tray with her. He’d almost thought he won until Dr. Harrow came in with a grim expression on his face some time later. “Good morning, Isaac. How did you sleep?”
“I didn’t, really.” Isaac mumbled.
Dr. Harrow pulled the plastic chair out to sit down, his expression more serious than usual. "Sarah tells me you refused breakfast entirely."
Isaac turned away, not meeting the doctor's eyes. "I wasn't hungry."
"If you keep this up, we’ll have to resort to intubation.” He let the threat hang in the air between them but Isaac didn’t flinch. He wasn’t going to eat, no matter the threats that were flung at him. Finally Dr. Harrow crossed his legs and laced his fingers together on his knee, taking on a more clinical tone. “We need to talk about your hygiene as well. You've been here four days now without showering." Had it really already been four days? It didn’t feel like four whole days. "That's not acceptable anymore,” the doctor continued.
"I can't shower today."
"You said that yesterday." Dr. Harrow leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I understand you're frightened, but basic hygiene isn't optional."
Isaac could feel his chest tighten, like he was getting ready for a fight that wouldn’t happen. "The demons watch me when I'm naked. They talk to me and preach about damnation."
"I know that feels very real to you." Dr. Harrow's tone remained patient. "But we have ways to help you feel safer. We can have a nurse stay right outside the door, talking to you the whole time."
"No."
"Isaac, look at me."
Reluctantly, Isaac lifted his head. Dr. Harrow's brown eyes were kind but unwavering.
"You're going to shower today. Either you walk to the bathroom yourself, or we'll have orderlies escort you. I'd prefer you choose to cooperate."
Isaac's stomach dropped. "You can't force me."
"Actually, we can. When a patient's hygiene becomes a health concern, we have protocols." Dr. Harrow straightened in his chair. "I don't want it to come to that, Isaac. I'd rather you trust us to keep you safe. But we have to maintain at least one shower a week while you’re here."
"But the demons!"
"They cannot hurt you in this hospital. We have security, cameras, and staff monitoring every corridor." Dr. Harrow's voice grew firmer. "But your lack of hygiene is unacceptable, you haven’t bathed in weeks."
Heat flooded Isaac's cheeks. He hadn't realised he'd gotten that bad. The shame felt almost as overwhelming as his fear of the demons. He probably smelt terrible but he didn’t notice anymore.
"I'll shower tomorrow," Isaac said quickly, his voice tight with desperation. "I promise. Just not today."
Dr. Harrow shook his head, his expression unchanging. "You were supposed to shower yesterday, Isaac. You were actually meant to be properly bathed the first day you got here, but you were too out of it at the time.”
"Tomorrow will be different. I'll be ready then."
"No." The word came out flat, final. "You're showering today. Within the next hour."
Isaac's grip on Jumper tightened. His breathing grew shallow and quick as he started to feel cornered again.
"Please don't make me. The demons are stronger than me. I don’t have my crosses or holy water. It’s not safe.”
"Isaac. Your hygiene has become a medical concern at this point.” Dr. Harrow stood up from the plastic chair. "I've been patient, but this can't continue."
"What if I just wash my face and hands and all the parts that smell? That's something."
"You need a full shower."
Isaac's chest felt tight, panic rising like bile in his throat. "I can't. You don't understand what they do to me. They whisper about the apocalypse while I'm naked. They tell me my body is marked for hell."
Dr. Harrow's expression softened slightly, but his voice remained firm. "I know you're frightened. But we have ways to help you feel safer. Marcy can stand right outside the bathroom door. She'll talk to you the entire time."
"That won't stop them."
"The demons cannot physically harm you here, Isaac. They're symptoms of your illness, not actual entities."
Isaac shook his head violently. "They're real. They marked me for hell.”
Dr. Harrow stood up from the plastic chair, his expression resolute. "I'll be back in a few minutes, Isaac. Use this time to prepare yourself."
Isaac watched in growing panic as the doctor left the room, the door closing softly with a click behind him. Minutes later, footsteps approached. Multiple sets this time. Isaac's heart hammered against his chest as Dr. Harrow reappeared in the doorway, followed by two large orderlies in white scrubs. Behind them came Marcy, her arms loaded with fresh towels, a small plastic comb, scrubs, and socks.
"Isaac," Dr. Harrow said, his voice calm but authoritative. "This is James and Tony. They're here to help if you need assistance getting to the bathroom."
The orderlies looked professional but imposing, their presence filling the small room. James had broad shoulders that suggested he wouldn't hesitate to physically intervene if necessary. Tony stood near the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back.
"I don't need help," Isaac said quickly, his voice tight. He clutched Jumper closer to his chest. "I can walk there myself."
Marcy stepped forward, setting the stack of towels on the foot of Isaac's bed. The terrycloth was hospital-white and looked scratchy but clean. She held up the small comb, its black plastic teeth catching the fluorescent light.
"We brought everything you'll need," Sarah said gently. "Fresh towels, soap, shampoo."
Isaac's breathing grew shallow as he stared at the towels. The demons were gnawing at the back of his mind, whispering to him as he shook his head. His fingers worked nervously through Jumper's grey fur, the repetitive motion the only thing keeping him from complete panic.
"I'm not doing this," Isaac said, his voice cracking as he pressed himself further back against the headboard. "You can't make me."
Dr. Harrow nodded to the orderlies. "Isaac, last chance to cooperate."
Isaac shook his head frantically, clutching Jumper so tightly his knuckles went white. "No, no, no. The demons are waiting. They'll see me naked, they’re already here!"
James stepped forward first, his movements calm but purposeful. "Come on. Let's make this easy."
"Don't touch me!" Isaac scrambled to the far side of the bed, but Tony moved to block his escape route. The room suddenly felt extremely small, the walls closing in around him.
James reached for Isaac's arm but Isaac jerked away, his back hitting the wal.
"Please don't do this. I'll shower tomorrow, I promise. Please."
"We're past promises," Dr. Harrow said quietly.
James managed to grasp Isaac's wrist, his grip steady but not painful. He dragged him off the bed, his socked feet digging into the linoleum floor as he tried to break free.
"Let go of me! The demons will hurt me!"
Tony moved to Isaac's other side, taking hold of his free arm. Together, the two orderlies began guiding him toward the door, ignoring his struggles and desperate pleas.
"No, no, no!" Isaac's voice rose to a near-shriek as they pulled him into the bathroom. He felt desperate, scared, cornered like a wild animal. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm himself down but the demons were already starting to talk. They seemed to appear more frequently when something stressed him out, and especially when he didn’t get good sleep.
Marcy hurried ahead of them toward the bathroom, her crocks squeaking against the polished floor. The sound of running water filled the small tiled space as she adjusted the shower controls, testing the temperature with her hand until steam began rising from the spray.
Isaac continued struggling between the orderlies, his breathing rapid and shallow. "They're watching already. I can feel them watching."
Marcy pulled on a pair of blue latex gloves, the snap of rubber sharp in the humid air. She turned back toward the group, her expression neutral and practiced.
"Water's ready," she announced, steam curling around her brown hair. "Nice and warm."
The orderlies guided Isaac closer to the shower stall, his legs picking up slightly from the floor as they lifted him.
Marcy stepped forward, her gloved hands reaching for the hem of Isaac's scrub top. "I need to get these off you now."
"No!" Isaac twisted violently between the orderlies, his voice echoing off the bathroom tiles. "Don’t touch me!” He really didn’t want to be stripped by a woman. Not that he was straight, he was far from it. But something about it made him feel extra vulnerable and he didn’t like it one bit.
James tightened his grip on Isaac's left arm while Tony held his right, keeping him steady as Marcy worked. She grasped the bottom of the faded blue scrub shirt and began lifting it upward.
"Stop it! They're watching!" Isaac's struggles grew more frantic as the fabric rose past his stomach, revealing pale skin marked with old scars and burns along his ribs. "They can see me!"
Marcy paused, her eyes catching sight of the thin white lines across Isaac's torso. Some looked old, faded to white against his skin. Others appeared more recent, still pink and raised. He had burn marks in the shape of crosses all across his body. She kept her expression neutral and professional, setting her jaw.
"Almost done," she said quietly, pulling the shirt over Isaac's head and arms. The orderlies adjusted their grips to help her remove it completely. He tried to pull free when they let one arm go, but just as soon as Marcy got his sleeve off, they grabbed him again.
Isaac's breathing came in sharp gasps, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Without the shirt, he was open. His ribs showed prominently beneath his skin, evidence of the meals he'd been skipping and the time he’d spent fasting.
"Please," Isaac whispered, his voice breaking. He bit his lip, keeping his eyes closed as the voices grew louder.
Marcy knelt down and began working on his socks, peeling the grippy cloth away from feet. Isaac's toes curled against the cold tiles as she threw them on the floor next to the shirt to take care of later.
Next came the scrub bottoms. Marcy hooked her fingers around the elastic waistband, her movements quick and efficient. Isaac's struggles renewed as she began pulling them down.
“Stop!” He tried but it was no use. She yanked his pants down and he stood bare in front of everyone in the bathroom, his dignity completely shot.
"Shh," Marcy murmured, working the fabric off his legs and feet. "We're almost ready."
The scrub pants joined the shirt and socks on the floor, leaving Isaac exposed and shaking between the two orderlies. His whole body trembled, whether from cold, fear, or both. Steam continued rising from the shower spray, filling the small bathroom with humid warmth.
Isaac screamed as the orderlies forced him into the shower. He tried to grab for something, anything, but there was nothing for him to hold onto. Even the shower head was sunken into the tiles so he couldn’t hang anything from it. There was no shower curtain for privacy either, as that could easily be used for self harm, too.
Marcy held the small shampoo bottle in her hand, squirting out a quarter sized amount into her gloved palm. She reached for him, but in a moment of panic he flailed, hitting her in the face. He didn’t mean to. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He would never hurt anyone. But he’d hit her, there was no denying that. She stepped back, clutching her eye with one hand as she gasped and winced.
"Marcy," Dr. Harrow's voice cut through Isaac's screams as he rushed into the steamy bathroom. He’d heard the commotion and the loud thwack, a loud smacking sound in the small white room. He took in the scene quickly, Isaac naked and thrashing between the orderlies under the shower spray, Marcy clutching her face against the wall. The orderlies had grabbed Isaac and were now holding him under the shower, practically waterboarding him as he struggled.
"I'm alright," Marcy said, though her voice was tight with pain. A red welt was already forming across her cheekbone where Isaac had hit her.
Isaac continued fighting against James and Tony's grip, water streaming down his pale, scarred body as he twisted desperately. "Let go! I didn’t mean to hit her, it was an accident!”
"Hold him steady," Dr. Harrow instructed the orderlies, his voice calm despite the chaos. He moved closer to examine Marcy’s injury, tilting her chin up to get a better look at the rapidly forming bruise.
"Vision clear? Any dizziness?"
"No, I'm fine. Just stings."
“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!” Isaac tried to shout through the chaos, but the orderlies wouldn’t let him break free.
It just made him panic more, barely able to breathe under the stream of water hitting his face. His breathing came in ragged gasps, eyes wide as he listened to the demons grow louder and louder.
In the end your eye are ours, on the cross we took our meat.
"Get me a PRN," Dr. Harrow said to Marcy, stepping back from his examination.
Marcy nodded, pressing a dry towel against her injured face as she hurried toward the door. Her footsteps echoed down the corridor as she headed for the medication room.
"I’m sorry!" Isaac's voice cracked with desperation, water running in rivulets down his chest and arms. "I didn’t mean to hurt her!" But nobody would hear him, not while he was naked and struggling against two orderlies. He was just a difficult patient to them now, not a scared man begging for forgiveness.
James and Tony maintained their grip on his arms, their scrubs now soaked from the shower spray. The orderlies had dealt with resistant patients before, so they knew how to hold him back.
"It's going to be alright, Isaac," Dr. Harrow said, raising his voice to be heard over the running water and Isaac's continued protests. "Marcy’s bringing something to help you calm down."
"No please I don’t want it! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hit her!”
Marcy returned within minutes, her cheek already bruised but her movements steady and professional. She carried a small plastic tray with a prepared syringe. She didn’t look angry or upset at being hit, but it just made Isaac feel worse thinking she might be used to that sort of thing.
"Ready," she announced, setting the tray on the bathroom counter.
Isaac's eyes fixed on the syringe with fresh terror. "No! Please, I said I was sorry! I really didn’t mean to!”
"This will help you feel calmer," Dr. Harrow said, nodding to the orderlies. "Hold his right arm steady."
James shifted his grip, exposing Isaac's upper arm while Tony maintained control of his left side. Isaac thrashed harder, water spraying across the bathroom as he fought against their hold.
"I don't want a shot! Please, I'll be good!"
Dr. Harrow picked up the syringe, checking the dosage one final time. The needle gleamed silver under the harsh bathroom lights. He approached Isaac carefully, avoiding the water that was cascading down his back and splashing the floor.
"Quick pinch," he warned, his voice gentle despite the situation.
The needle pierced the muscle of Isaac's upper arm. He cried out, more from fear than pain, as the doctor depressed the plunger. The medication entered his system fast, dulling the panic that had set in.
"There," Dr. Harrow said, withdrawing the needle and setting it down on the small plastic tray. "All done."
Isaac continued struggling for another minute, his movements gradually becoming less coordinated. The medication worked quickly, his desperate thrashing slowing to weak pulls against the orderlies' grip.
"They're still talking," he mumbled, his voice losing its sharp edge of panic. The water continued streaming over his shoulders, washing away weeks of accumulated grime.
"Let's get you clean," Dr. Harrow said, stepping back so Marcy could take charge. She started with soap this time, scrubbing down his trembling form as he fought weakly against the orderlies.
Isaac’s eyes remained wide but unfocused, darting occasionally to corners of the bathroom where he could hear demons chattering. James and Tony continued supporting him as Marcy began washing his shoulders and arms with clinical efficiency, moving onto his legs next.
"The demons," Isaac whispered, his words slurring slightly.
"You're safe," Dr. Harrow repeated, watching as Marcy worked shampoo through Isaac's matted hair. "No one is going to hurt you here."
Steam continued rising around them, the small bathroom thick with humid air and the sound of running water.
Chapter 5