Everyone called Julian the perfect husband. For ten years of marriage, I suffered my episodes almost every year.
Even when I drew blood from him, he’d still hold me gently, soothing me with soft words.
Even when I was hauled away to a psych ward, he still smiled sweetly.
Sarah, don’t be afraid. We’re all here to help you.
It wasn’t until I found my hidden PhD diploma in psychology that I knew. My illness was never a diagnosis. It was his creation.
My head felt like it had been hit by a sledgehammer, and my stomach churned in protest.
I heard Julian’s voice, anxious and choked with tears, repeating over and over, his eyes red and bloodshot as he gripped my hand tightly.
“It’s okay, Sarah, everything will be alright.”
There seemed to be other people around, holding things and taking pictures.
I struggled to see clearly, but my vision was a blur.
I only caught a fleeting glimpse of cold indifference in his eyes.
“Shh, don’t move, darling. I’ll go with you for treatment. It’s just a minor procedure, and you’ll be fine.”
He whispered soothingly, his arm sliding under my waist and knees, lifting me into his embrace.
My body felt like a broken rag doll, limp and lifeless in his arms, my limbs hanging uselessly.
Outside the car window, the night was thick like ink, occasionally cut by the fleeting light of a streetlamp.
Where were we going?
Why was my headache getting worse?
It felt like I’d forgotten something incredibly important.
I shook my head and looked at Julian.
“Julian, I don’t want to go. Can we just go home?”
Julian whispered reassurances in my ear.
But phrases like “You’ll be fine after some rest,” and “The place we’re going will make you better,” only pricked at my nerves, making me tremble uncontrollably.
My gaze drifted to the window. A sign indicated a psychiatric hospital just ahead. Those few short words instantly filled me with dread.
“No hospital! I’m not sick! I’m not going to a psychiatric hospital!”
“I’m not crazy! I’m not sick! Let go of me!”
I struggled wildly in the car.
Julian let me flail and hit him, but he continued to calm me with that infuriatingly gentle voice.
I fought desperately to break free from his embrace, trying to open the car door.
The next moment, like a mosquito bite, a sudden wave of dizziness slammed into me, and I lost consciousness almost immediately.
When I woke up again, I was already dressed in a hospital gown.
Several people in white coats approached, their eyes scrutinizing me.
Julian stood nearby, his expression so complex I couldn’t decipher it.
He gently patted my back.
“Don’t be afraid, they’re all here to help you.”
His voice was soft as silk, but it sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.
Instinctively, I clutched his arm, pleading.
“Julian, I’m sorry! I promise I’ll never hit you again. Please, take me home!”
“Julian, I’m really not sick. It must be my hormone levels are off. Can’t we just go home and get it sorted?”
Julian continued to placate me with empty words, but his hand made no move to help.
The people in white coats nodded at him.
Julian stepped back, making way for them.
They grabbed my arms and forced me onto the cold hospital bed.
Rough restraint straps instantly tightened around my wrists and ankles.
The sharp pain made me scream.
“Sarah, just bear with it a little longer! It’ll be over soon!”
A cold liquid was pushed into my veins.
The tranquilizer began to take effect.
My thoughts became slow and thick, everything around me twisting, blurring.
I struggled to grasp onto something, my fingertips twitching uselessly, but there was nothing to hold.
Through my fading vision, Julian walked towards the door.
The moment he opened it, I saw a figure standing outside.
Was that Chloe? Why was she here?
As I wondered, Julian pulled her into a hug. Chloe rested her head intimately on his shoulder, a smirk of triumph playing on her lips.
“Don’t be afraid. We’re here to help you.”
Julian’s gentle yet chilling words exploded in my mind.
A searing tear rolled down my cheek, but the image was so fleeting, so ethereal.
I couldn’t tell if it was reality or just another hallucination from my “episodes.”
My eyelids grew heavier and heavier, until I finally plunged into complete darkness.
When I woke up, blinding white still surrounded me.
“Miss Sarah, it’s time for today’s treatment.”
She pushed a cart towards me, and the gleaming electroshock machine instantly made my hair stand on end.
I struggled to sit up, but my body was as soft as jelly.
It was the after-effect of the tranquilizers.
A few days later, Julian came.
He was wearing the gray cashmere sweater I’d given him, holding a bouquet of champagne roses-my favorite flowers.
“Sarah, are you feeling any better?”
Behind him, a social media influencer was live-streaming on her phone, explaining something to her followers.
“Guys, a man like Julian is truly a rare gem in this world!”
“Sarah’s been diagnosed with a mental illness, but he still hasn’t given up! He even brought in the world’s best doctors for consultations. Seriously, Sarah must have won the cosmic lottery in a past life to deserve a husband like him!”
A flicker of smugness, however, darted across Julian’s eyes.
He bent down and gently kissed my forehead.
The cold touch instantly sent a shiver down my spine.
“The doctor says if you cooperate with the treatment, you’ll get better soon.”
He smiled at the doctor beside him, then turned back to me, the smugness in his eyes even deeper.
This time, I saw it clearly.
The side effects of the medication left me constantly groggy, my brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton, making even simple thoughts sluggish.
Each electroshock felt like a thousand needles simultaneously piercing my brain, making me curl up in agony.
They said it was to “correct” my “delusions.”
But all I felt was my soul being slowly drained away.
I started to lose track of day and night, of dreams and reality.
I even struggled to remember if it was Julian or Chloe who had visited.
The nurse handed me the phone, saying it was Mom.
“Sarah, just listen to the doctors. Julian told me you’ve been really stressed lately, overwhelmed.”
“Many of the things you’re seeing are just hallucinations. Don’t let those crazy thoughts in your head fool you.”
Mom’s voice carried fatigue and a hint of helplessness, yet it seemed to awaken something deep within me.
“Mom, no, that’s not right! I’m not sick! Please, let me out! I’m really not sick!”
“Mom, it hurts so much! They electroshock me every day, it really, really hurts!”
Mom sighed deeply, but there wasn’t a hint of belief in her voice.
“Just focus on getting better. Julian is taking care of everything at home.”
The line went dead, leaving only a cold dial tone.
I lay in bed, staring blankly at a small patch of mold on the ceiling.
It looked exactly like a distorted face, mocking my sanity.
Every day was the same: wake up, take medication, then the “treatments.”
Julian’s sweet talk, the small gifts he brought during visits, all felt distant and blurry, like they were behind a pane of glass.
All I remembered was that fleeting look of smugness in his eyes, and the pity and fear in the eyes of my relatives when they looked at me.
I even began to question if I really had gone mad.
Until that day, the nurse walked in, holding my medication and a patient record.
It was strange, ever since I’d been admitted.
I’d asked to see my medical records many times, but I’d always been refused.
I vaguely remembered that I knew something about therapy myself.
But no one seemed willing to listen to me.
The nurse stormed in, impatiently slamming things around.
“What kind of lazy-ass doctor is this? Can’t even bother with rounds, just says he’s ‘busy’! I’m so over this job, seriously, anyone who wants this life can have it!”
She grumbled under her breath, shoving the pills into my hand impatiently.
“Hurry up and take your medication!”
Seeing that she didn’t check my mouth as usual, I instinctively hid the pills under my tongue, pretending I’d already swallowed them.
The nurse quickly left, but the patient record lay forgotten in the room.
I opened the book, took one look, and froze.
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