Welcome back to Chained Soul, my new serialised novel that I’m releasing right here on my blog, as well as on Tapas and Wattpad. Quick warning: this series does contain strong language, so if that’s not your thing, you’re free to skip this one!
Check out Part One, including a synopsis for the whole series, here!
If you missed Part Seventeen, you can read that here!
Day Eighteen
Fuck me, it’s been a hell of a day. I don’t really know why they decided to just not give me food yesterday, but the slop came with both salt and something else extra today – well, a couple of things. I’ll try to explain, even though it still all feels like a weird blur.
So, I was hanging around by the door, waiting for them to put the food through. I was getting close to the point of banging on the door again, but it did finally come through. Slop, tiny packet of salt, and an envelope. They don’t usually deliver any sort of letters with the food – fuck, if you can even call it food – so I was intrigued, obviously. I don’t get much to focus on in here.
So I ate the slop, which I didn’t even mind being slop considering how hungry I was, and then after I was finished with that awful stuff, I opened the envelope, and there were a couple of bits of paper inside. It was the handwritten one that I grabbed first – barely anything is handwritten in here; it’s basically just this journal. Everything else is typed.
Handwritten Letter
Dear Robin,
I hope that you’re doing well. I’ve missed you terribly. They haven’t really told me much. I can’t believe that — (here, a bunch of lines had been redacted, not even subtly – it was like someone had gone over it with a black marker) — but I guess that doesn’t matter now. I’m sorry that I used your — (more redacted lines) — but I want you to know that I do remember, I promise, and I would never purposefully hurt you like that.
I don’t know if you’ll be able to reply to this letter, so I suppose I should try and say everything that you might ask about. I’m well, and I’m still working at — (more redacted lines) — and I haven’t mentioned this to anyone, just for your own privacy. They’re not publicising the — (redacted word) — which I guess is kind of shady in itself, but at least it saves you the embarrassment of all of this nonsense being public. I’m not any closer to getting you — (more redacted lines) — but I won’t stop trying, I promise. I was hoping there’d be some sort of loophole related to your — (redacted words) — but they seem to have it all under pretty tight control. I don’t know what more I’d expect from — (redacted word) — I guess it’s too much to hope for common decency.
I hope they’re treating you well. They promised me it isn’t a prison, so I guess you’ll have some freedom in there. I don’t like that they won’t let me visit; it doesn’t feel right. If you can, will you please try to reply to this letter? Don’t get yourself in trouble, of course, but it would be amazing to know for certain that you’re alright.
Anyway, I’ll stop rambling now. I love you, — (redacted word) — and I hope that this all gets sorted out soon so you can come home.
With love,
Mum.
That was a whirlwind to get through. I cried a couple times, I won’t lie. It took me a few minutes to even remember that there were other papers with the letter, and part of me hoped they were other things from my mum. Typed letters, maybe, if they hadn’t been letting her send me things for a while.
But, weirdly enough, the second paper I picked up just had a username and password on it. A shit username and a shit password, but it did seem a bit strange. But then I looked at the third and final piece of paper that had been in the envelope – the envelope itself was just a plain white one with nothing on it, so that didn’t have anything interesting about it.
Notification Regarding E-Mail Privilege
Dear Patient 0619,
Congratulations! You have co-operated with the treatment process so far, and your nominated psychological care coordinator has advised to proceed with your care plan to the next stage.
Along with this letter, you may have received communication from a family member or friend. If you have not, then this may be given to you at a later date. All communication is carefully reviewed by our team in order to ensure that your care is not compromised by outside information or any harmful material, so please do not be alarmed by any changes to the original text.
As well as this communication, you will soon be given access to a computer in your room. This computer will be able to receive E-Mails from people outside of the facility, but you will not be able to respond to these E-Mails. These communications will also be reviewed and edited accordingly by our team to ensure that your care under us is not compromised.
The purpose of this privilege is to prepare you for re-entry into the outside world. We feel that you can benefit from viewing communication from members of the public who volunteer their time to send well-wishes and other messages to you and other patients in this facility. Further privileges will be granted to you according to your progress with your treatment, until you are able to achieve a standard of behaviour that is compatible with living outside of the facility.
We ask for your patience during this time, as you may need to undergo sedation and/or temporary seclusion while your room is provided with the necessary renovations for this privilege. Further instructions may be given to you by your nominated psychological care coordinator.
I don’t know what the fuck all of that means except that I get a computer, I guess? I don’t know who the fuck is gonna send me emails, or why they’re gonna do that, or what the emails are gonna be like, but I guess it’s something?
One step closer to the outside, I suppose. But I do not like the sound of that sedation or seclusion shit. Still, I feel like I’m not gonna get much of a choice in all of this.
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Oskar Leonard 
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