Work Text:
The painting twisted again as John walked by. He disregarded it, until flashbacks of inkblots appeared in his vision. Memories of his own manic screams thundered in his mind. The room started to distort, the red walls fading to a purplish gridlike color.
Something grabbed him, and his vision went out.
He rubbed his head, tension throbb-
His arms wouldn't budge.
His eyes snapped open, and he shouted as he saw he was back in the Yale Psychiatric Unit, crosses scrawled all over the walls, arms bound in a straitjacket.
The door in the corner was open. He struggled to his feet and shambled towards it.
The boiler room was uncomfortably warm, but a door outside was across the room.
A large, red form appeared to his left. He struggled through the room's pipes, occasional blasts of steam halting him.
Feeling a breath on his neck, he dared not turn to look. He pushed through the ache in his knee, making it to the door right as he heard a low growl behind him.
He was back in Garyland, with no straitjacket to be seen.
The inkblots reappeared in his vision, and Dr. Spinel's voice rang in his head. He looked around, and saw the red form appear in front of him.
He thrust his cross at it, and shouted, near screamed, desparate prayers at it. It screeched, and faded.
John stood, shakily catching his breath.
"That-" He grumbled, muttering the curse under his breath, "injection."