Yn stark- the girl with the scars

Part11

I've been at this shitty mental hospital for like 3 months. I can hardly keep track of time here, everyday is the same and according to the doctors and therapists here I haven't change my attitude since I got here.
I share a room with some girl called Rebekah but everyone calls her becks.
She talks for the country. She doesn't shut up! There's quite a lot of girls here who cut but most of them are older then me, however not that much. The oldest one is 20 and I'm 15 so Y'Know. Anyway back to where I was. So becks, she cuts like I do and she always talks and tells me everything that's happened to her. It's not like she's trauma dumping on me, she hasn't got too much trauma other then her cousin dying but she likes to tell me all about it. She tells me happy memories as well but I never respond to anyone. I hardly talk.
All these girls have cried multiple times in here but me? I refuse to. I'm not showing any emotions in front of these strangers. I've cried once and that was a couple weeks after coming here when they took my bandages off and took the stitches out. It hurt a lot. And my skin felt tight. It still hurts a bit now but only when I look at the scars. However the deepest cut, the one along my wrist, the last one I did, well that always hurts. I don't think it will ever stop. But anyway the only time I cried here was because I got my bandages off and it made me remember my near-death and seeing my mom. It made me realise whilst being trapped in the hell hold there's no way for me to kill myself and see her again. That is why I cried.
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"MEDS" one of the nurses says and we all stand in a line to take meds. It gets to my turn and I notice a new pill that I don't usually have.
"What's that I don't usually have it?"
"Ask your doctor tomorrow. Hurry up there's a cue and if you don't take it we'll make you" the evil nurse says.
"I don't care I'm not taking that until I know what it is!" Wow now I had 2 men in white grab me and drag me out. I kick and scream but they don't stop, everyone just watches as I get further and further away.
The men in white take me to a room with a hospital bed and my doctor comes over to me.
"Yn I hear you refuse to take your meds" dr Martin says in a matter of fact tone.
"Your giving me more pills and you haven't asked me if I'm okay with it or told me what it's is!"
"Your father is paying for your treatment here, he knows everything-" I cut her off.
"I don't care what he knows it's not his body that's getting stuffed with poison!"
"Yn it's just a stronger antidepressant. The one from before isn't doing anything so I've decide to up your dosage and see if it helps" she says with a sigh.
"Ye well what if I don't wanna take it? I'm already taking that thing for the infection and a antidepressant and sleeping pills"
"Yn your mentally unstable. You were sent here because you couldn't be trusted around yourself or others"
"First off I'm not mentally unstable and second off I was sent here because my poor old dad thinks I'm too much to deal with!"
"Yn I want to run some tests tomorrow but for now I want you to take your meds and go to sleep, okay?"
She hands me the pills and I swallow them.
"Happy dr Martin?"
"Very, good night yn"
"Night doc" I say and walk back to my room.
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"MORNING MEDS!" My fav nurse shouts. I stay sat as I don't usually have meds in the morning.
"Yn your on the list come up" nurse tilly says with a smile.
"Ugh, please don't make me take more pills" I beg with puppy dog eyes.
"Sorry sweetie but doc Martin says you need it and I do what the doc says" she laughs.
I look at the pill and notice it's the new antidepressant I sigh and swallow it.
It kicks in about 20 minutes later and I already hate how it feels. Usually I make myself not feel much but I have the option to allow myself to feel and not hide my feelings away. This pill made feel numb and not have the option to feel anything. I hated it. It felt like I was trapped in an empty room with no one.

A few hours later doctor Martin calls me to her little doctor office.
"Hello yn"
"Sup doc" I say with a blank expression.
"So I'm gonna ask you questions and and check your heart and we also have your therapist here to see if we can get a proper diagnosis for you"
"I don't need a diagnosis, those are for people with something wrong with them. There's nothing wrong with me"
They still ask questions and check my heart.
After a dozens of questions later my therapist speaks up. Her name is Ellie.
"Yn we have a diagnosis for you"
I scoff "I don't need a diagnosis there's NOTHING wrong with me!"
Ellie and doc Martin sigh.
"Yn please just let Ellie talk"
"Fine go ahead!"
"Okay so we are diagnosing you with depression, PTSD and we think you might have a bit of anxiety but we're not sure"
"This is bullshit! Where the fuck would I get PTSD from?"
"You were kidnapped and raped and your mother was a drug addict"
"So what people get raped all the time, plus it was months ago. And for the other thing, incase you didn't know she's DEAD oh and here's a bit of information to add to that it was my fault!" And with that I leave her office. This doctor and this therapist need to go study some more because there is nothing wrong with me! I do not have PTSD nothing bad enough has happened to me for me to have that. Also me be depressed? Nope! Not happening. So what if sometimes I don't want to be alive or if I cut myself that does not make me depressed! Oh and the other thing that moron said. Me maybe have in anxiety? Well if my mom was still alive then yeah sure I can see that but she's not so I have nothing to worry about. She's the only thing I ever worried about and now she's dead so it doesn't matter.
Ugh I want out of here so bad!
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Every week we have one or two sessions of group therapy. It's on a Thursday and then sometimes a Monday.
The group is like 10 people. 4 are addicts, 3 starve themselves and 3 others, including me, hurt themselves.
In todays session we were talking about why we do what we do. Everyone says their bit and when it gets to me I stay silent. I never talk in group and everyone says how it's unfair how they all have to share but I don't and the therapist who runs the group, Sam, reminds them that if someone doesn't want to share they don't have to.
"Well she only ever speaks if she's mad about something!" Complains some girl called Sara. She's 17 so a little bit older then me.
I take a deep breath and decide I'm gonna share for the first time ever, just to shut her up.
"I cut myself and I do it because it makes all the thoughts in my head stop. It calms me down when things get too much. I first started when I was like 12? I don't really remember. But my dad found out a few months ago because I was kidnapped and raped by my moms drug dealer. Dad found me and took me to a hospital thing and they had to put needles and shit in me so he saw my scars. And the day before I came here I cut too much and too deep. My heart stopped but the doctors brought me back alive and then my dad told me that I'm basically too much to handle and that he was sending me to a mental house. And here I am now. Thank you" I say and bow whilst everyone is left silent and my little trauma dump. I walk out and go to my shared room. In all honesty I really needed to cry, but I couldn't let myself.