Work Text:
No. No. No! It’s all wrong!
You may think me irrational, but I know what all of you do not. Bad things always come in ones and twos and fours and fives and sevens! And all multiples of. Never threes. Threes are safe. A holy trinity that does not bring harm, harm, harm.
The nurses understand this you see. They take my four daily pills- dirty, toxic, wrong, wrong, wrong four pills and cut them up into nine even pieces. A perfect multiple of three. The only number that could possibly come close to the perfection and purity of three. Why-it takes two to make one!
Sitting in the mind-numbing silence of my all white room my ears tap into something it had not before. The constant tick-tock-tick-tock of the clock situated above my bed.
It is with the most paralyzing fear that I realize the pattern of the wretched clock. A suffocating tick-tick-tick-tick-pause. Never to be a safe and pure pattern of threes.
The never ending cycle that had once gone unnoticed now unable to be shaken from my haywire mind. Oh! The torment of it!
I know what must be done. I wrap my fist in the sheets of my bed and stand on the mattress until I am faced with the heinous clock.
I jam my fist into the horrid glass case one, two, three times until it shatters, shards of glass sprinkling to the ground in a downpour of relief.