Dementophobia • tyler joseph •

three // there is no strength in enduring

Five days.

I've only been home for five days and I already wanted to rip my hair out, but I knew my mother would probably send me right back to that mental hospital if I did so. That would be a blessing.

I wasn't used to my mother's rules and expectations. I haven't lived in this house since I was thirteen and she was acting like I never left. 

Courtney, set the table. Courtney, go outside and get fresh air. Courtney, why won't you get out of bed?

She even made my younger sister, Ginger, come into my room and try to convince me to leave.

My whole family thought I needed my medication adjusted because I wasn't happy go lucky like they thought I was going to be when I finally came home. Of course, I wasn't as bad as I was when I was admitted, but I definitely wasn't hundred percent either. But that wasn't the reason why I didn't want to get out of my own bed.

On my second day home, my mother instructed me to walk to the soccer field to watch Ginger play and then walk her home afterwards. That wasn't a bad request, but the problem was that nobody told Ginger that I was permanently coming home, so she had no idea I was back. Let's say she was pleasantly surprised. So were a lot of other people.

I couldn't stand the stares and looks people were giving me, like I was some crazy murder that could snap at any moment. The whole town knew me as the little thirteen year old girl that was whisked away to a mental hospital for something that she honestly had no control over. And the people that didn't knew me when I left knew everything about me. Word travels fast among a small town.

Ginger was even embarrassed to be seen with me. My fourteen year old baby sister was ashamed to have me for a sister. That realization came like a punch in the gut around two in the morning, filling me with sadness, which resulted into full-blown sobs.

I know my parents could hear me from their room, but I could care less. They really didn't even feel like parents to me anymore. Parents knew how to comfort their own child, yet, my parents just thought it would be easier to send me away for five years. I don't think I would ever be able to forgive them for that.

"Courtney!"

I groaned as my mother's voice penetrated my ear drums. I pulled my thick comforter tighter around me, refusing to leave my unlit room and very comfortable bed.

"Courtney Annabel, will you please come downstairs?"

Now my middle name was coming into play. It still didn't make a difference though. I didn't move a muscle and my eyes remained shut tight.

It wasn't like I was lying around in my dark bedroom without anything to do on my own account. My body just felt so tired. My mind didn't want me to get up and attempt to face the real world. It was like all the energy was sucked from me and I couldn't understand why. The medication was still working and I hadn't missed a dosage since I've been home, so it wasn't because of my "disorder."

Three, two, one.

My mother's voice rang out once again, slightly irritating me.

"Courtney Annabel Akehurst, do not make me come up there and drag you down here!"

That was one of the worst things with my mother. When she said something, she meant it.

"I'm coming!" I yelled, throwing back my comforter, exposing my body from the waist up.

I rolled onto my side, not realizing how close I actually was to the edge of the bed in the first place until my entire body made contact with the carpet with a muffled thud.