"You want to go into the Mendota Asylum, for a story??" his boss said. "Let me tell you how dumb that is," he started with his cigar bobbing with each word. He continued, "asylum reform is OVER. Stop copying others' work Ayer!"
Ayer, Mark Ayer was a reporter in the Milan of the Midwest, or Madison as normal people call it. Mad City, Wisconsin of course. Mark was a 18 year old reporter for a major Madison paper.
Mark never really wanted to be a reporter. He only took the job to pay for the awesome and outstanding medical school fees.
Mark finally countered, "They have scandals of not providing treatment for their patients and I know the medical field but they won't know my face there boss! Mad City is so goddamn Lib(eral), they will eat it up!" Mark was bitting his lip, waiting for an answer.
"No more protest, no serial killers... You're lucky the news is slow! You have your story. Although, getting you in, that's on you Ayer. God help you if you piss off the entire medical community in Madison." said his boss.
"Do not worry, it will all be on me sir."
Several days later, Mark checked himself into the asylum. He assumes the name "Rick Treger." Being a student he had his pick of false ID's.
Mark, or Rick, walked into the main entrance of the asylum. It reminded of a recent PC game called, Outlast.
Mark presented himself with faux schizophrenia and was taken to a treatment room. Already Mark had a piece for his story as he was put into a less than humane room. One iron frame bed with a mattress, flickering light, cheap night table, and no window. Not to mention the brown stains on the floor, the yellow stains in the corner, and the clear opaque stains just everywhere.
Mark used his hidden camera and recorder to document the horrors. He wasn't afraid one bit! I'm terrified just driving across the asylum grounds.
Mark was subjected to many blood tests and was put on a cocktail of psychotropic drugs. It made him feel like a zombie but all the violations he was capturing was worth it.
One day, one moment, came the very last, the very worst violation. It was late night, around 11:30, when one of the night doctors knocked on Mark's door. Mark did awake and noticed the unusualness despite being heavily medicated. It was actually one of the senior docs. Doctor Reynard was at his cell door.
Sam Reynard was very respected in the UW. But even though Reynard had a loving wife, he still took every young adult male as his "special patient." Everyone know but Reynard had deep pockets, which is somewhat ironic.
Mark was Reynard's perfect creature. Mark was lean, shaved, brown hair, and green eyes.
Reynard was, lets say, no where near the perfect 50 year old. He was a bald, beer gutted, hairy, cigar smoking pig.
"Rick, this is perfectly normal. Night time checks are vital." Reynard said with a deviant smile. Reynard also came in with a cart. On the cart was restraints and open ampules of medication.
Mark tried to sit but the doctor's girth pinned the young adult down on his stained bed.
"You need to relax Ricky, relax and to serve your purpose. You were born sick, that means you are basically an object. You may not be here much longer so I need to mark my new found piggy." Reynard took out a needle and syringe and continued, "this my baby, is pancuronium." The doctor injected the syringe into the 20 year old. The MD ephebophiliac continued, "This will not kill you my love, just weaken your strong manly body."
Mark became nearly unable to control his muscles. He could barely breath. The doc placed a tube very deep into Mark's flaccid throat. It acted to help his breathing but also acted as a gag. But no worries, Mark still felt all the pain and was very much aware.
The sadistic MD then tore off Mark's issued gown and- well, this is not S&M, but come to me for details.
The following morning, Reynard finished with the patient. He later would say he "released" more with Mark than with any other "Bubi" of his. Everyone received their bonuses early and on that day. Dr. Reynard was so joyful.
Only Mark could say that rape was no where near the worst thing. Only hours into the same morning, he heard Reynard state this outside his cell: "I have gotten Treger, Rick's blood report back. He has a trinucleotide repeat in his FLNA gene. He fits into my own personal study! No fucking with the lab report, I get to own that idiot." Who he was talking to was unknown at the time.
But several strong orderlies tied Mark to his bed and moved him to the elevator. It just kept going down and down.... and down.
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