Samuel returned to his room alone.

He was glad his boyish exuberance had returned. He hadn't felt this way in a long time; he hoped it lasted for a while.

He wasn't sure he deserved this bliss. Melanie was the type of woman guys like him only dreamed about. Did she really care for him the way he thought she did? Or did she say she loved him just to placate him ... after all he was insane.

No, Melanie wouldn't do that to him. She really cared about him -- he was sure of it.

It was nice to be in love again. He felt light, carefree and young ... he felt good.

He stretched out across the bed, his legal pad in front of him. His knees rested on the quilt, positioned in a V. His ankles were crossed behind him, his feet dangled in the air.

He let his thoughts and feelings pour from him. He smiled as his story flowed easily over the pages.

To him creation was a challenge. Creation wasn't as easy as he thought it was. He had a great respect, appreciation and awe for God's masterpieces.

Creation was also liberating. People had a need to create and anything artistic endeavor filled that void. He found peace, satisfaction and enjoyment in literary endeavors.

Dorothy Ratner, the nurse who had brought him his medication this morning, entered his room. He glanced up from his manuscript. She glared at him disapprovingly.

He regarded her, saying casually. "Being outside certainly inspired me."

You could have heard a pin drop when she locked his door. He thought her behavior was strange. Nurses were not supposed to lock patients' doors -- unless they were on the fourth floor, and he was there. Worry crept up inside him

"You've been a bad boy," Dorothy scolded him.

His eyebrows furrowed together tightly in confusion. "What ever do you mean?" He feigned innocence. "I'm writing. I thought you all encouraged that."

Her eyes narrowed into angry little slits. "You think you're so smart." She held out a crumbled tissue containing the pills he'd thrown away this morning. "Remember these?"

He swallowed hard. He was in trouble now.

"You haven't been taking your medication, have you?" She chided him.

He shifted into a seated position on the bed, and then rose to his feet. "I don't need it. I'm not crazy."

Dorothy evaluated him. "I'll make a deal with you. I won't tell on you if you dump Dr. Moonstock and date me."

"What?" Samuel said in disbelief.

"Don't play coy with me," Dorothy snapped. "I saw you kissing Dr. Moonstock outside. Anyone who behaves like that definitely can't be insane."

She'd watched them. Samuel was appalled. "I...," He stammered, floundering for an explanation.

"I'm better than that bony bitch," Dorothy said, anger rumbling in her voice.

He took a few steps toward her. "Look, I'm flattered. I'm sure you're a lovely girl, but I don't feel the same way about you as you do me."

"You love her, don't you?" She demanded, throwing the words in his face.

He stood his ground. He crossed his arms over his chest. His brown eyes held a hardened glaze. "That's none of your damn business," he said coolly.

Dorothy picked up the white phone hanging on the wall. She pressed a button to call the nurse's station at the end of the hall. "Send a doctor to Room 13 right away," she said sounding hysterical and upset. "Samuel Beckett went berserk. He locked the door and attacked me. Help me. He's crazy. He's going to ..." She abruptly hung up the phone.

"Why you," Samuel growled advancing toward her. He wanted to throttle her. She was a woman and he really shouldn't hit her, but he wanted to hurt her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. It'll make things worse for you," she told him, a sweet evil smile slipped across her lips. "You did this to yourself. You had your chance but you didn't take it."

Keys hurriedly turned in the lock as two burly hospital orderlies, dressed in pressed white uniforms, and Dr. Seth Schiester, the on duty pyschiatrist, rushed in the room.

Dorothy rushed over to the Schiester's side. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Her finger trembled as she pointed at Samuel. "He attacked me."

Schiester gave her a cursory evaluation. "You look fine to me, Nurse Ratner."

"If you hadn't arrived when you did, he would have beat me senseless," Dorothy said, her voice trembling with anguish and fear.

Schiester had a hard time believing her claim. Samuel didn't have a mean bone in his body. The young writer might be crazy, but he wasn't the type of guy who would deliberately attack a woman.

"He hasn't been taking his medication," Dorothy whispered to Schiester.

The information concerned Schiester. If Samuel hadn't been taking his medication to control his condition, maybe he was crazy.

The seeds of doubt had successfully been planted in the doctor's mind. "He's crazy. He attacked me," Dorothy insisted.

Schiester snapped his fingers. "Vinnie and Bruce."

Samuel backed away from the orderlies, brandishing a straight jacket, advancing toward him.

Vinnie and Bruce cornered Samuel on the far side of his bed. The orderlies' beefy grips tightened around Samuel's wrists as they drug him toward Schiester. Samuel struggled to break free, but the orderlies were stronger than him.

"Wait. I didn't do anything," Samuel protested as the orderlies wrapped the straight jacket around him.

While Vinnie and Bruce worked together to put the jacket on him, Samuel shrugged off the cloth momentarily. He fought managing to break away from the orderlies.

"Don't do this," Samuel pleaded with them. "She's lying to you. I didn't do anything."

Pinning him in a corner, Vinnie and Bruce overwhelmed Samuel with their power. The orderlies swiftly dressed him in the jacket, tightening the straps. Samuel felt like a caterpillar snug in its cocoon.

"I hate to do this to you, Samuel," Schiester said apologetically reaching into his white coat pocket.

Concern whirled in motion in Samuel's chocolate pools. He thought Schiester was going to give him an injection to incapacitate him.

His concern evolved into fear when Schiester pulled a roll of duct tape from his pocket. The ripping sound reverberated through the room as the doctor pulled a piece. Vinnie and Bruce held Samuel steady as Schiester put the tape over the young writer's mouth.

"Mmm," Samuel grunted in muffled indignation. Schiester couldn't do this! It was illegal.

Schiester returned the duct tape to his pocket, then picked up the phone. "Dr. Fineberg, this is Dr. Schiester. I have a patient who needs shock therapy treatment," the doctor nodded, listening. "Very good. I'm on my way down."

Samuel knew about shock therapy. Treatments weren't as cruel as they were in the past. Still ... if they gave him shock therapy, it might make him crazy.

"Mmm," Samuel groaned in protest.

"Let's go," Schiester ordered.

Vinnie and Bruce picked Samuel up like he was a sack of potatoes. The young writer's legs flailed mere millimeters above the ground -- a clear indication that he didn't want to go with the doctor or the orderlies.

Samuel's display clearly indicated a panic attack, which had turned into a crazed tantrum, but the doctor wanted to ensure the young writer didn't get away. Vinnie and Bruce held Samuel steady.

"Take it easy, Samuel," Schiester whispered into his ear, poking him in the neck with a needle.

Samuel had no idea what was in that syringe, but his body reacted to the drug almost immediately. A tingling sensation coursed through his body. It felt like Nova Cain numbing his senses. He blinked trying to stop the light headed feeling washing over him.

Schiester looked into his dilated eyes. "That's a good boy," the doctor said soothingly. "You'll feel so much better after you've had a shock treatment."

No, Samuel thought, fighting to stay conscious.

Schiester turned and gestured for Vinnie and Bruce followed. The orderlies carried his limp, stiff body out of the room.

There was no way out. There was no escape.

He was in trouble.

Help me. Oh, please ... someone help me. They're going to make me crazy. Help me. Please. Melanie... Samuel faded away into the dark oblivion rising up to greet him.

**

Melanie had taken Samuel's file home with her.

She put on her reading glasses, and then sat down on the couch. She spread Samuel's file out on the coffee table. Her 5-month-old Siamese kitten, Scooter, rubbed against her ankles before jumping up onto the coffee table and walking across the file. He stretched out plopping his furry body down for a nap.

"I didn't call you," she said affectionately picking up Scooter and setting him beside her on the couch. She scratched his neck, especially under his collar, and Scooter purred appreciatively.

"Now where was I?" Melanie said to herself, focusing her attention on Samuel's file. She flipped through the pages reviewing their sessions. She'd recorded her observations of Samuel. He was a upbeat, cheerful, well rounded guy, but she hadn't found anything usual about him.

She turned the pages back further, finding his commitment papers. His family had been interviewed, but he had not. She thought this was a bit strange. Usually doctors evaluated the patient's mental stability.

Samuel had not been given such an opportunity. Everyone had just assumed he was crazy when he wasn't.

It wasn't fair. It was poppy cock, that's what it was!

Samuel wasn't insane, and she was going to have him discharged in the morning.

Suddenly an odd sensation washed over her. Samuel? She cocked her head as if she had heard him call her telepathically.

A chill trickled down her spine. The hair on her arm stood on end. Her stomach twisted into knots. Something was wrong.

She reached for her purse beneath the coffee table. She dug around for her cell phone, retrieving it from the bottom of her purse. She dialed The Cottage's number.

"Mary, can you connect me to Samuel Beckett's room?" She requested. Samuel wasn't there, and that definitely meant trouble. "OK, thank you, Mary."

The eerie foreboding feeling she had still clung to her. Samuel was in grave danger, and she was the only one who could save him.

*

Melanie sped toward The Cottage.

Red and blue lights danced across the glass of her rear view mirror. She pulled over.

Just what I need, she thought wistfully, knowing the cop had pulled her over for speeding.

The cop climbed out of his squad car. His broad shoulders and well built body swayed with stern severity as he walked up to her door. She rolled down the window.

Slightly leaning over, the cop flipped open his ticket pad. He frowned at her disapprovingly. "Ma'am, do you have any idea how fast you were going?"

"I'm sorry, officer," she gushed, pulling her medical identification badge from her purse and showing it to him. "There's a medical emergency at The Cottage and I have to get there right away."

"I see," the cop said thoughtfully. "In that case, you'll need a police escort."

"I'd appreciate that," she said. In this case, especially if it was as bad as she feared, she might need the officer's assistance.

"Just follow me," the officer said jogging back to his squad car.

**

The room was a blur. Samuel was barely able to distinguish the patients sitting beside him on the bench in the waiting room.

The patients stared at him not sure what to make of him. Samuel tried to speak but no words came out. He'd forgotten about the duct tape covering his mouth.

He stared back at them with his glazed eyes. Please help me.

Twitching nervously and feeling uncomfortable, many of the patients turned away from him. Some quietly chatted amongst themselves while others watched TV. Maybe these patients resided on the fourth floor. If so, they'd be of no help to him.

Yes, the room was spinning. Samuel closed his eyes to stop the nauseating whirling. He was seriously tripping, and if he didn't stay in control he'd be seriously flipping.

Dr. Schiester walked into room. He hadn't seen Vinnie and Bruce following him, but the orderlies must have because they came to collect another patient.

The two orderlies escorted the patient down a long stretch of hallway. About 15 minutes later -- maybe longer because he had no sense of time at that point -- the fluorescent lights in the waiting room flickered and dimmed. Which meant they'd turned on the electricity. That fact was confirmed a few minutes later when screams rippled down the hall. These cries of terror and anguish echoed throughout the room.

He was next. He had to get out of here. If they gave him a shock treatment, he'd be crazy for sure.

He squirmed unable to break free of the restrictive straight jacket. Someone please help me!

**

Melanie dashed from the parking lot entering The Cottage through its huge ornately decorated wooden doors.

Her hair flew wildly behind her as she ran down the long corridor. She darted into Samuel's room.

"Samuel," she said breathlessly glancing around his empty room.

Now she was really scared. It was exactly as Mary, The Cottage's receptionist, had told her. It was exactly as she feared.

Melanie scurried to the end of the hallway to the nurse's station. Dorothy Ratner looked up from the paper work she was filling out.

"Dr. Moonstock," Dorothy said surprised to see the psychiatrist. "You're working late this evening."

"Where's Samuel Beckett?" Melanie demanded.

Without blinking an eye, Dorothy replied, "According to the log, he's been in his room all after noon."

"He's not in his room," Melanie snapped, fire blazing in her sapphire eyes. "I demand to know where my patient is, nurse Ratner."

Samantha, an older, maternly nurse who had been working at The Cottage for many years, walked up to the desk. "Dorothy, Dr. Schiester wants you to fill out this report about being attacked by Samuel Beckett. Dr. Schiester's waiting for it."

"What?!" Melanie said shocked. "Samuel didn't attack you."

"Samuel is crazy, you know," Dorothy smiled sweetly. "Something inside him just snapped and he attacked me."

"You bitch!" Melanie said, hot anger poured like lava from her lips. "The only one crazy here is you!"

"Oh?" Dorothy said with interest. "Why did you decide to take his side all of the sudden? Is it because you're in love with him?"

"That's none of your damn business," Melanie retorted, then to Samantha. "Where's Samuel?"

"Dr. Schiester has him scheduled for shock therapy," Samatha told the pyschiatrist.

"Shock therapy!" Melanie said appalled. "If they do that to him, it'll make him crazy."

Samantha and Dorothy said nothing. The fluorescent lights in the hallway fluttered becoming dim. They all knew what that meant.

"You better hurry," Dorothy suggested, there was no drop of compassion in her voice. "Or it may be too late."

**

Samuel's eyes fluttered open.

The hazy disoriented cloud he'd been under started to fade; his strength returned. The drug Schiester had injected into his body must be wearing off.

He could try to escape, but it wouldn't do any good. He was still imprisoned in a straight jacket, which kept him from making a clean getaway. The duct tape covering his mouth prevented him from calling for help.

Vinnie and Bruce rolled the patient, who had just had a shock treatment, past him. The man's hairy hand dangled listlessly over the side of the stretcher. His tongue stuck out in the corner of his mouth, his eyes were crossed.

They'd practically fried the poor man. He was in serious trouble, he thought, as Vinnie and Bruce handed the stretcher off to the nurses waiting to take the patient back to his room. Then the two orderlies rumbled, swaying like rough, tough cowboys about to face each in a shot out, toward him. They grabbed his shoulders pulling him along with them down the long corridor to his doom.

**

Melanie rode the elevator to the basement, where all the shock therapy treatments were conducted. She thought this setup was kind of creepy.

She shook off her eerie thoughts. Her heart thudded in her chest, her breathing was labored as she raced down the gray concrete hallway.

The light tubes, lining the ceiling above her, waivered between bright and dark until they snapped off completely. Thunder rumbled nearby, followed by a crash of lightning as tremors shook the walls.

OK, I'm not in a lab where a mad scientist is creating Frankenstein. Melanie steadied herself.

Reaching out to get her bearings, she found the wall. She felt along the wall until she clutched at door knob leading into the shock therapy's waiting room.

The patients stared at her blankly when she entered the room. She scanned the room, but Samuel wasn't there.

Oh God was she too late? She gulped and hurried down the corridor, peering into every examination room until she came to the one with Dr. Schiester in it.

She whisked through the large rocking steel doors. Samuel, gagged, bound by a straight jacket and restrained with a neck brace, a strap around the waist and mental manacles locked his ankles down, lay on the table. Running between the highly technical machine and the table, multi-colored plastic tubes connected to the pads fixed to his temples.

"What's going on here?" Melanie demanded.

"Dr. Moonstock," Schiester said surprised to see his colleague. "Samuel has not been taking his medication and is in desperate need of shock treatment."

Melanie was unphased by the information that Samuel had not been taking his medication. The writer didn't need it -- he wasn't crazy.

"I didn't authorize this," she said coolly.

"No," Schiester agreed. "But I didn't authorize your patient to lose his mind and attack a nurse."

"Poppy cock!" She spat. "I demand you release him at once."

"Is there a problem, doctor?" Dorothy Ratner said, entering the room.

Melanie whirled toward the nurse. Dorothy smiled sweetly. Her hands were neatly folded at her waist as she stood just behind the psychiatrist.

Schiester's icy stare swept over Melanie. "You're just in time, Nurse Ratner, Dr. Moonstock had a mental lapse and interrupted our treatment session. I think she's in need of shock therapy."

"Yes, doctor," Dorothy said quietly.

"You all are crazy," Melanie spat, backing away as Dorothy, Schiester, Vinnie and Bruce advanced toward her.

Dorothy reached her first. Melanie posed her body, her arms gracefully stretched out to the side, open palms in either direction, ready to do battle. She had a black belt in tae kwon do.

Dorothy mocked her with her laughter. And that's when she struck. Her leg swiftly swept out knocking the nurse off her feet.

With a thrust to the throat, Melanie made Dorothy gasp for air. Throwing a right cross, she punched the nurse's lights out.

Her long brown hair cascaded around her shoulders. Melanie stood tall, taking a defensive stance, as she faced her three remaining male opponents. It wouldn't be so easy to take them.

Before she blinked her eyes, the cop, who had pulled her over earlier, barged through the door. He brandished a black Magnum at her opponents. Schiester, Vinnie and Bruce stared at him trying to figure out what to make of him.

"I figured you might need some help," the cop told her, responding to the surprise and appreciation he saw in her eyes.

The danger of the situation intensified. An innocent man lay on the table. Schiester's hand hovered near the activation switch on the shock therapy machine as Vinnie and Bruce orderlies lumbered toward them.

"Stop," the cop ordered. "Or I'll shoot."

Apparently Vinnie and Bruce didn't comprehend the warning because they continued to advance. The cop squeezed the trigger and let one fly.

Rushing over to push Vinnie and Bruce out of the way, Schiester took it directly in the chest. Crumbling to the ground, the doctor crawled in their direction. The cop fired again, sending another bullet sizzling into the same spot it had earlier. Clawing at his chest, Schiester sputtered, his energy and strength reaching an end. The doctor's body fell like a mighty tree. He lay sprawled like a discarded rag across the floor.

His job was to serve and protect, so the cop fired two more shots to eliminate the remaining threat. Their eyes wide with surprise, Vinnie and Bruce exchanged looks. Their fingers brushed the blood oozing from their chests. The light in their eyes faded as the orderlies toppled like dominoes to the tile floor.

Melanie rushed over to the table, ripping the pads off Samuel's temples. The cop helped her free him from the bounds that kept him restrained on the table.

Samuel slid off the table, and she peeled the duct tape from his mouth. His mouth quickly found hers. His firm, strong lips pressed against her soft petals. He hungrily engorged on her meaty flesh, enraptured by the sweet, savory flavor of her essence.

"Oh, Melanie," he murmured tenderly.

She freed him from his straight jacket, and he wrapped his arms around her. Raising her lips to his for another delicious kiss, she snuggled in his warm, safe embrace, knowing the horror they'd faced was over