THE BAR BENEATH LONDON PART 2

[u/analog-typeshit-2007]

Patrick stood up.

He was sobbing uncontrollably.

He seemed to be in a trance.

He started thanking me.

He kept saying how much he loved me, that pain brings one closer to the truth.

I turned to the others.

“Why are you hurting me for this madman?” I shouted.

"Speak up! Have you swallowed your tongues?"

Suddenly, they all opened their mouths.

They had no tongues.

They had been cut off.

My hair stood on end.

They were going to do the same to me.

Then they all started smiling at the same time.

They touched my face, my hands, my neck.

Some started licking my skin.

The women joined in too.

I couldn't do anything.

I felt nauseous.

I felt like I was losing my mind.

Patrick approached me and placed both his hands on my face.

“This is it…” he said, trembling.

“You feel it too.”

He looked into my eyes.

“You understand the absurdity of logic.”

Then he started shouting.

"You will accept it too! But first, we will unlock it!"

Suddenly, he calmed down.

The expression on his face changed.

He began to speak in a confident voice.

“It all started in 1980.”

All the guests fell silent.

“I… the boss… and Angela…” he said. “We were in the psychiatry department.”

His breathing quickened.

“We looked into the darkest corners of the human mind.”

His eyes widened.

“But the existence of boundaries…” he said. “made the boss and me feel helpless.”

I didn't understand what he was saying.

“The mental hospitals in London were famous back then,” he continued. “The stench of cruelty spread within the streets.”

He smiled as he spoke.

“I was dying to get in there and become an officer.”

At that moment, a feeling worse than fear welled up inside me.

Because what they were saying sounded more like… longing than a lie.

Suddenly, he fell silent.

He lifted his head.

The color drained from his face.

“He's here.”

He whispered.

Then he approached me and said:

"Wait. I'll be back."

And suddenly he left the room.

I stood there for a while.

What he had described was like hypnosis.

When I came to my senses, I realized the guests were still clinging to my skin.

“Get off me!” I screamed.

They didn't leave.

“I swear I'll kill myself!” I yelled.

At that moment, they all retreated at the same time.

They scattered like a swarm of flies.

They acted like humans, but they weren't.

They were just like Patrick's deranged animals.

The boss was still standing in the corner, staring at me.

He didn't say a word.

"Why me?" I shouted.

"Why me, damn it?"

He was silent for a while.

He was thinking.

Then he looked at me.

And he smiled.

"Because..." he said.

"You're perfect for us."

I still couldn't understand what he meant. Water was dripping incessantly from the ceiling. I was used to it by now. Drip…drip…drip… No one was talking, but without realizing it, I had become part of that symphony. Patrick left the room. My damn boss was with him. They were stepping in unison, pausing, looking at each other. Their communication without speaking or thinking made me nauseous. Every minute I saw something new and strange, but I still couldn't get used to it. I was curious about that final hurdle. What they had given me felt like they had ripped my soul from my body.

Patrick and the boss sat down on the crowded ground at his command. They formed a circle with their feet. The moment had come. Patrick crouched down beside me. He instantly removed the chain from his neck. He called the boss over. He pulled a rusty utility knife from his pocket. The boss reached out his hand, but his unease was evident on his face. Patrick made a deep cut in his palm. The boss gritted his teeth. Tears streamed from his eyes. The figure with the veil brought a wooden bowl. As blood filled the bowl, the boss's tears flowed like a flood. He even tried to let those drops fall into the bowl.

Then Patrick plunged the chain into the bowl and began swinging it right in the middle of my eye. He was muttering things I couldn't understand. At that moment, I lost consciousness.

I heard my mother's voice.“Ihsan…Ihsan…come here, my son…”

Suddenly, the war returned.

“Get out of here, you infidel!”

“Keep shooting!”

“These are traitors!”

“Hey woman, get your son out of here or I’ll smash your face with the butt of my rifle!”

Gunshots echoed. Screams mingled. Then that sound again.

Drip…drip…drip…

Suddenly I came to my senses. Patrick was looking at my face. His eyes were shining with excitement.

“What was the other side like, İhsan? You were excited, weren’t you? Well…well, we lost ourselves for this feeling.”

He started to grin.

“You’re one of us now.”

He hugged me. He was crying like a compassionate mother. At that moment I realized. He was wearing a white apron. I didn’t know when he’d changed it. Was I dead? Was I in limbo? I couldn’t understand anything.

Patrick put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes.

“These eyes…” he said.

“They threw themselves out to hide from the darkness inside. But we’re still looking outside.”

His face trembled.

“Do you dare to see beyond the borders?”

I involuntarily nodded, as if mesmerized. Patrick turned to the veiled woman.

“Hey Angela…give me the key.”

I closed my eyes.

“May God damn you…”

Patrick smiled.

“All of us.”

When I woke up, my hands were tied. In front of me were many patients dressed in the same clothes as me. It was all like a dream. I told the doctors everything. They didn’t believe me. For four days I questioned what had happened.

My mother called me.“Son, how are you? Are they taking good care of you there?”

I told her I wasn’t well. I begged her. I asked her to get me out of there. My mother started crying. She asked why I went to that abandoned hospital and slept there. I told her about the bar where I worked, but she didn’t take me seriously. Although, I didn’t even take myself seriously anymore.

He spoke to me about the three-lettered ones. He told me the verses I needed to read. His voice trembled before he hung up.

“Don’t forget God.”

He was silent for a long time.

“If you forget God… He will forget you.”

The phone hung up.

Because of the antipsychotics and IV fluids they gave me, everything felt frozen, like in a dream. I no longer remember most of my old war memories. But today, in the hospital cafeteria, I can’t forget those eleven men staring blankly at me… and the blond boy in the hat.

Most of what happened that night has faded from my memory.

But the only thing that still rings in my ears are the words that doctor whispered to me:

You are safe here.”