I've been sat in this locked room for a while, no nurses have come back to check on me, no one has come at all, sometimes I swear I hear footsteps, but nothing ever comes of it.
I used to look out the small window in my room when things became too melancholy, a few months, or years, ago some men came and boarded up those windows, they locked the door after them when they left, so still I'm stuck here.
So all I do now is lie down on the bed that is seemingly long gone, the itchy blanket I truly hated when it was still intact is worse, I miss having some kind of cover, it felt like protection from the loneliness of sitting in this old dorm.
All that remains here is my broken bed, the torn piece of paper I never managed to burn, a wobbly rusty nightstand with a broken lamp, and me.
Sometimes I wonder if this is even real. Am I going insane and this is what I'm imagining? The nurses told me I was, thats what the said when I asked them why I was locked in my room, I was unstable, dangerous, my psychosis was worsening and there wasn't much more they could do.
These days when I lie on that old bed wait for sleep to overtake me, and it never does, no matter how long I wait, all I wish for is to see the old chipped golden handle on that door turn, to see the corridor beyond my dorm.
YOU ARE READING
Empty words and empty halls
General Fictiontrigger warnings!!! medical mistreatment, misdiagnosis, starvation, ableism, mentions of sharp objects, excessive profanity name is subject to change uh ghost story idk figure it out for yourself
