Ten | newtmas

thirty six

Waking up with anxiety has got to be one of my least favorite feelings. I'd almost rather have the numbness of waking and feeling empty. The racing of your heart and mind is disorienting, and while you're tired it's nearly impossible to ground yourself. I find the shark toy first, and that doesn't help at all. I'm wearing the hoodie. I have to search my memory to figure out when I even put it on.

My eyes are shut tight when they bring me food, and although my appetite couldn't be worse, I eat it anyway. It helps with my dizziness, but I have to pace myself to get it down. Being in here is partially nice because every second alone is a second not spent talking to anyone about what happened.

But it's also time to be alone with my mind. It's like setting someone's house on fire and then locking them in a house across the street. You know there are bad things happening, but you can't see it or do anything about it. It's not a comforting thing to be trapped with the knowledge that my family is falling apart and my friends are in danger and I'm helpless.

At ten, someone comes to my door and tells me that it's medication time. Apparently I'm allowed out of the room to take it today. They wait as I get into my chair, and my movements are sluggish. I've only left the room once today to go to the bathroom, so I haven't physically done much and I want to keep it that way.

I'm snapping my fingers when the nurse starts to wheel me out of the room, and I borderline feel like I'm about to implode. I close my eyes again on the way up to the line for the medication window, and I wish I'd just fall asleep again.

I can't remember the last time I woke up to a normal day. It would had to have been the day I fell in school—the day that got me sent here—but what was the last truly normal day? When I woke up, got out of bed without counting my steps, and went on about my regular life with my regular parents and regular friends?

"Newt!" I open my eyes to see who's calling my name, and I find Minho and Jeff running towards me. They're yelled at by a nurse, and Minho huffs but apologizes before they continue walking forward.

They get to my side and before any of us can get a word out, my nurse jumps in. "Get in line," he says.

"We're about to. Newt, we heard you were back, what happened? Where's Thomas? Where were you guys?" Minho bombards me with questions that would be ridiculous to answer right now.

"Back of the line," my nurse says. I'm almost grateful, because as much as I like Minho and Jeff, I don't feel like answering any questions.

"Fine. Talk later, Newt," Minho says before stalking off with Jeff at his heels. I'm not sure if "later" will ever come.

For now, I brainstorm ways to hide the pill I can't take.

I hide it in my gums, and it works. I'm sweating profusely the whole time I'm up there and my hands shake, but I manage to do it. I sneak the pill into my pocket and successfully disguise it as a cough as I'm rolled away, making a mental note to flush it later. Unfortunately, in typical fashion, my luck is extremely short lived.

Dr. Ava Paige is walking right up to my chair, effectively blocking us from moving down the hallway. I guess it's too late to pretend I haven't seen her, since my eyes meet hers as my heart somehow sinks even lower.

"Newton, I'd like to see you again in my office to talk some more," she says. I take a sharp breath, and my head feels like it's been filled with thick liquid.

Nothing more is said to me. I'm handed off like a baby to Ava Paige and we head right to her office. I've got a stomach ache, and I'm only realizing it now. What's my mom doing at this moment? Looking into ways to get me out of here? Is she with my dad? Are they fighting?