Spider

It was unbeknown whether it was mental tension or something else, Jason felt that his sleep had been terrible since he was hospitalized. It wasn't because of insomnia (if insomnia was simple, two tablets of diazepam would solve it), as it was actually difficult for him to describe the state he was in every night.

The first few days were a total unconscious slumber, similar to a coma, and he wouldn't wake up until nearly noon. These days, it was like an endless nightmare; sometimes his deep consciousness seemed to be fully awake, but his body became a hard chunk that didn't belong to the brain's command and couldn't move. He always felt someone around him. Although he was supposed to be asleep, the feeling of being watched all the time went beyond the perception channel of his five sense organs into his brain. He felt that beside his sleeping body, there was always a mass of ethereal, floating material every night. He (or it, perhaps) crept silently close to him, watching him, smelling his breath, and even touching him... When he woke up in the morning, his brain was always as chaotic as a packed wastebasket, accompanied by a dull, rising pain. At that time, he is not even able to think, and as long as he tried to concentrate on something, his brain would screech like a strike parade, stinging his eardrums.

Trouble was that the doctors couldn't know about this situation yet. Jason could almost imagine the two doctors' expressions after hearing it: Simon looked at him sympathetically, 'I told you we needed to have a good chat. In fact, mental disorders may be alleviated as long as they're properly consulted.' He'd probably say that. The other one was worse: his attending doctor would declare in that tender, chilling voice that he would've to be transferred to a psychiatric unit for another year and a half!

Upon thinking of this, Jason couldn't help groaning in hopelessness and dive headfirst into the spongy quilt.

He began to inquire Simon in a roundabout way whether the medication he was taking had hallucinogenic side effects. The latter found it a bit odd but gave him a negative answer. Then the idea suddenly popped into his head: what if those weren't hallucinations or nightmares, but real experiences? Some psychopathic pervert had slipped into his ward late at night while he was asleep and laid hands on him! Considering his recent mental state, he could very well have been drugged! Jason jumped up from the bed in a towering rage and ferociously slammed his pillow into the wall. He was going to catch that scoundrel himself and sue him for sexual harassment — no, he was going to teach him a lesson and make him pay dearly for his perverted proclivities!

When he took his medication after dinner, Jason flushed all the pills down the toilet when the nurse wasn't paying attention — he suspected the medication might've been tampered with. That night he still drifted off to sleep nevertheless, and 'he' visited him as always. When he woke up in the morning, Jason was so gloomy that he almost spat out blood. If he reported that he had been raped by a ghost, wouldn't the police put him in a mental hospital without demur?

All day long, his brains were filled with thoughts of how he was drugged. He didn't even dare to drink the water in the water dispenser. He felt like he was going insane!

By the end of the evening, he finally tossed himself so weary that he collapsed on the bed, unable to move. His mental state seriously affected his body, and as long as the stomach bag was filled with something, he would vomit to shambles — and he had to throw up furtively, or the nurses would've to hang him up to saline and amino acids (with God knows what ingredients added) again.

Maybe God finally heard someone's prayer, and tonight Jason's mind was unusually sober, the unnatural drowsiness driven out of his body. He tasted the wonderful feeling of free control of his consciousness (while sadly realizing that this should be the most basic of functions) and suppressed the excitement of the imminent revelation of the truth — he'd catch that damned bastard and beat the living shit out of them! He had to open his eyes every few minutes, fearing that he'd somehow pass out again.

The lights in the ward had already been turned off, gloom and silence drifting in this emphatically not wide space. The pale streetlights in the garden penetrated through the windows, casting irregular-shaped dim spots on both walls and floors. When you looked at them, they were static, and when you didn't, they seemed to be moving in a trance, which was creepier than pure darkness.

Jason remained in a fixed position on the bed, and the waiting time was particularly unendurable. He wasn't even quite sure whether three or four hours had passed. It was extremely quiet all around, nothing unusual. Just when he was giving himself up thinking which nerve wire had slipped, the door of the ward was quietly pushed open. Although you couldn't see through the curtain, the light from the corridor penetrated through the crack of the door; the white mark printed on the curtain was very much distinct.

Jason closed his eyes, held his breath and listened attentively to the approaching footsteps. The noise was very slight, but it was real. Someone did come in! He tried to restrain his rapid breathing and tensed his muscles, ready to catch the criminal red-handed.

He felt that the figure had come to his bedside. There was a faint sound of an object being lowered on the bedside table, and then a gentle force (he guessed it was the other's hand) pulled the quilt corner. As he felt the air flowing on his shoulder, he grasped the hand and yanked it hard. At the same time, he quickly rolled over and let the other fall on the bed, taken off guard. He strangled the unwanted guest from behind with his arm and covered their mouth with his other hand. Pressing the other's body into the sheets with all his might, he ruthlessly pinned their limbs with his body, and strangled their throat.

The other struggled hard at first, so hard that it almost lifted him off his feet. Their waving arm hit Jason's right rib, and the pain from the unhealed wound made him groan. Then the other suddenly became frank, trying to moderate the arc of movement as much as possible, and pulled the hand covering their mouth in an attempt to break it away, squeezing out a broken whine from their oppressed throat.

Jason had no intention whatsoever of giving in. He was holding back his anger, and he made up his mind to vent on the criminal caught red-handed. Although he couldn't see clearly the other's appearance in the dark (and their face was being pressed under the sheets), he could feel that the imprisoned body had very smooth and graceful lines. From the strong muscles and skin full of flexibility, it could be judged it was a young man. Jason clung to his back, feeling the perfectly round buttocks press against his lower body and wriggle in toughness.

This is really deadly for a young man who has been forced to abstain from sex for two weeks, Jason thought painfully. And right now, this was probably what was called 'to shoot accidentally while polishing a gun' — he was actually getting turned on by the other's reactions!

Obviously, the other also noticed the strange shape behind him. Basically, as long as there is a 'hard stick' on his butt, no man will be indifferent. His body immediately stiffened on the spot, and then recklessly struggled like a trapped beast forced into a desperate situation.

Unfortunately, men often don't mind this kind of confrontational game. Sex and violence are always a set of twin brothers, and physical resistance will only expand their excitement and desire for conquest. This wasn't Jason's original plan, but now he thought it'd be a good idea to fuck this guy after all: let this psychopathic molester taste rape — hey, what a genius idea! He let out a low laugh. "Bet you haven't enjoyed touching it that many times, so why not fucking try it yourself?" He pushed his lower body forward maliciously, and once more felt the body short circuit and stiffen instantly.

Immediately afterwards, Jason took a hard elbow to the right rib! The force wasn't strong enough to break again the two ribs, but it was painful enough to make him break in a cold sweat. He subconsciously used his hand to cover the wound. The man who took the opportunity to break free abruptly turned around and punched him heavily in the face. "Fuck you!" he cursed in a rage.

Jason froze. This voice was really familiar...

After three seconds of dumbfoundedness, he let out a shivering, off-key screech, "—Adri!"

In Dr. Neef's office, the owner was sitting with his legs folded behind his desk. His assistant, Dr. Martinez, was in the outer swivel chair, and the late-night visitor was standing on the edge of the small teapoy with both hands in his pants pockets.

Jason shrank in the opposite chair dejectedly, feeling like a war criminal on trial, accused by the sharp eyes of the public, with nowhere to hide.

"Tell us what you think." Douglas looked at Simon with an inconspicuous smile, and the latter immediately showed a nervous look.

He made a motion of flipping through the report form to stabilize his state of mind. "CT and NMR displayed no anomalies in the brain, and organ lesions can basically be ruled out. I think psychological factors might be considered."

"Excellent," his superior said in an encouraging tone. "What else?"

"It shouldn't be a nightmare, because the patient is unable to accurately describe the content of the dream. I think it's a bit like..." Simon took a breath and tentatively spit out two words, "night terror?"

Douglas raised his eyebrows. "Dr. Martinez, please note that you're dealing with a 23-year-old adult, not a 13-year-old teenage kid! Well, even if this late-arriving Mr. Night Terror missed the bus, how do you explain his violent tendencies?"

Simon hesitated, as if considering and weighing his words. "He's been very tense since he was hospitalized, and I remember him telling me about being upset... That was probably just some sort of anxiety reaction." He took a breath and suddenly said in a resolute tone, "I don't think that falls under the category of violent tendencies, doctor!"

"What an 'impartial' judgment, Dr. Martinez!" his superior said in sarcasm. "But what I'm curious about is how you, with this kind of judgment, managed to not have a medical negligence within a year of taking office?"

The young doctor's face flushed, and one could tell it wasn't just from nervousness and shame. He glanced at Jason, and then asked back in a loud, courageous voice, "So what do you think, Dr. Neef?"

His attitude seemed to surprise Douglas a little. He held his jaw with his fingers and shifted his gaze to the object of their study. The latter could've sworn to God he saw some kind of ill-intentioned stir in the depths of those dark blue eyes, like a snake staring at its prey, spitting out its tongue without haste! It was not in a hurry to attack, because it knew that the prey in front of it had nowhere to run. At that moment, Jason felt like he had suddenly figured out something, and his whole body shivered!

Douglas grabbed the marker on his desk and walked over to the glass display board, writing down a set of black words in careless, scribbled font: delusional disorder.

Jason's eyes widened, and he said incredulously, "You mean it's all in my head and I'm totally selling myself crazy? Why? To experience firsthand the foolish, oh-so-legendary sixth sense? Or to go on vacation in a dark room in a mental hospital? Shit, you could just say I'm self-harming myself, huh!"

His attending doctor thought about it and nodded. "Makes sense," he said, and then added a second line to the glass board: depression.

Jason's reaction was the spitting image of an exploding landmine, and he jumped up from his chair. "Fuck you, you psycho! Are you a Nazi doctor?! You fucking make me wanna kill som—"

Before he could finish cursing, 'depression' was preceded by another word: 'manic.'

If Adrian and Simon hadn't reacted and dragged Jason down, the attending doctor might've been murdered on the spot by a patient in a state of fury — the murder weapon being a heavy metal chair.

After the dangerous weapon was taken down, the attempted perpetrator defiantly broke through the resistance and rushed forward to ferociously grab the doctor's collar. Rage thoroughly ignited his brain nerves, like uncontrollable boiling magma burning all the way down continuously, those sapphire green eyes exuding scorching blaze like a tempered double-edged sword blade. "This is a trap! Don't think I don't know what the fuck you've done! You drugged me to make me schizophrenic for the rest of my life, so I can only be an obedient inflatable doll! Then you'd do whatever the hell you want to, and I'd do whatever the hell you want, and I'd have to take off my own pants when you fuck me! You motherfucker!"

The other raised his eyebrows and showed a somewhat flabbergasted expression. "As expected, this doesn't sound like something you would say, Jason. I thought you'd be more elegant and reasonable."

"Hah, not like something I would say? What do you think I am? A docile, shy little sheep? Screw your opinionated bullshit. I regret not showing you my true colors sooner! Oh, fuck!" he cursed angrily. "I got myself into this, out of a moment of extreme boredom!" He grabbed the doctor's neck and pushed him against the window pane. "Listen up you bastard, I won't sue you for this ridiculous attempted rape, and likewise don't you ever think of striking me with anything ever again! Since I had a hand in pressing the play button, I have the right and the ability to stop this! You hear me?! Game over, huh! Game over!

Simon stared at them, stunned, and murmured, "My God, what is he talking about? I don't understand at all..."

Douglas, who had been roughly shaken off, straightened his collar, his complexion earnest and solemn. "It doesn't matter, Simon. There's nothing in the doctor's manual that stipulates that you must communicate with the mind of a severely delusional patient."

He quickly adjusted his mood, turned his head and said softly, "You're too excited, Jason. It's not good for your condition. Now go back to the ward, okay, and rest. I'll have the nurse inject you to ease your nervousness. Don't worry, the dosage is very light. You'll get rid of the disturbing nightmares, relax and sleep comfortably. We'll talk about the rest later." Then he turned to Adrian next to him. "Could you please take him back to his room, Mr. Westchester? Your friend needs company now. Be careful not to get him worked up — oh, by the way, before you leave, please tell me who was the nurse on duty who let you visit in last night in violation of hospital rules? I want her to write a report."

Jason sat his butt down on the edge of the bed and looked at Adrian, who was leaning against the wall. "You believe that bastard's rubbish too, delusional disorder, depression and what not?"

"No," his roommate said after a pause. "It's probably not as serious as he says. You're just hallucinating because of stress. There's nothing to hide, many people have delusions or auditory hallucinations."

"Shit!" Jason cried in defeat. "You don't believe me! Damn, we've been living together for five years since college, and you really choose to believe some unfamiliar lunatic over me!"

Adrian sighed and sat down next to him, putting his hand on his shoulder. "Of course I believe you. Look, it's not your fault. You just can't pull yourself together right now. You need to relax your nerves, clear your mind and cooperate with the doctor."

Jason shook off his hand angrily. "You sound like you're comforting a nutcase!"

Adrian regained his grip on his shoulders and looked at him seriously. "You have to be reasonable, Jason. You almost raped me last night. Is that normal?"

"Oh, come on, don't bring that up again! If you don't want to hear me apologize for the umpteenth time!" Jason groaned hopelessly. "I swear on my dad's grave that it was a misunderstanding! I didn't know it was you, I thought it was the pervert who harasses me every night!"

"That's the problem. That 'pervert who harasses you every night' doesn't exist. It's just your hallucination."

"Why would you say that? Have you ever experienced it yourself? Have you ever lain in this bed and inexplicably passed out every night, subjected to all kinds of molestation like a nightmare you can't wake up from, and waking up the next day with a headache as if there were a million tweeters screeching inside? You haven't! So, who are you to argue and tell me that 'it's just your hallucination'?!" Jason waved his arms in agitation, jumped into bed angrily and pulled the covers. "Whichever bastard comes in later, tell him I'll break his neck if he dares to touch me with a needle!" He then wrapped himself in the quilt and ignored him.

Adrian reached out a hand toward the curled up body under the covers, as if he wanted to touch him, but hesitantly withdrew it halfway. He was not sure whether the other was willing to accept his comfort now. He felt that he had been hurt, and the wretched who hurt him was himself.

He pursed up the corners of his mouth and leaned back against the bedstead in deep thought. He stood up after a while, walked back and forth a few times around the bed, looked carefully at the surrounding corners, and then left the ward.

It was already late at night, and Adrian looked at his watch; it was currently 1:15 a.m.

He was sitting in a car, engine off, parked on the corner of the street not far from the hospital entrance. It was very quiet, with few passing vehicles to disturb him. He picked up the coffee cup to take a sip and continued to focus intently on the screen of his laptop, which was divided into three squares, continuously broadcasting the scene in the ward from different angles — he had installed three miniature cameras in hidden corners, with probes that could rotate 120°, and they were all currently pointing at one target.

Jason was fast sleeping on the bed. The lens at the top of the bedside could clearly capture his peaceful sleeping face. His blond hair was scattered disorderly on the pillow, and his long and curved eyelashes cast a feathery dim shadow on his face. His somewhat color-faded lips were pursed lightly, displaying stubborn and pitiful contours...

He looks like a fallen angel in his sleep, Adrian thought. Heartbreakingly beautiful. He soon laughed at himself for this tacky metaphor, yet he couldn't really think of a better fit.

He watched him intently until the coffee in the cup was completely cold.

Everything seemed to be the same, but there was something indescribably wrong... Adrian suddenly realized that the wrongness was Jason! He was sleeping too deeply, abnormally quiet compared to how he was used to sleep! He wasn't really ignorant of his roommate's sleeping positions — their sleeping hours were always different, therefore Jason would sometimes linger in his room in a daze, and then take over his bed as a matter of course — and he had never seen him sleep so soundly. He remembered that he'd change his position every once in a while, mumble a few times unconsciously, like soft nasal sounds similar to a pampered child's, and then turn over and continue to drowse, instead of lying rigidly like he was now, not even moving a finger!

Jason was right. He was drugged, and that caused him to fall into a deep slumber every night!

It wasn't until the coffee was flowing all over his hands that Adrian realized that the paper cup had been crumpled by him, some liquid splashed on the computer. He thus hurriedly pulled a tissue to clean it up.

The hand wiping the screen suddenly stopped. Adrian moved his palm slowly, and the white lighting emitted by the screen subsequently rippled like water waves in the narrow automobile space... Light! There was something wrong with the lighting in that ward, too! A certain part of it was shrouded in a dim, white light. Without looking carefully, it was quite hard to detect the subtle difference between it and the feeble lighting coming in through the window.

The light source seemed to be in another corner of the room, but the view of two of the probes was blocked by the dividing curtain. Adrian slowly adjusted the third camera probe, which was installed on the edge of the ceiling at an angle just above the curtain — and then he saw an unforeseen scene.