2015/01/04

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Patient Name: Amorette Dusk
Patient No.: 452810
Gender: Female
Age: 21
Doctor: Dr. Salvadore
Admittance Date: 2015/01/04
Report: Amorette has been admitted to receive treatment for dissociative personality disorder, her diagnosis shows that she is dangerous to herself and others and needs Class One care. Priority patient.

I tremble, sweating profusely in my straight jacket. She and I had spent the night battling it out, thrashing around the snow colored padded cell. I checked into Centracare about a week ago... I think. Time does not have meaning to me anymore.
Just stop. Just give in and accept that you don't belong here. I beg.
I'll never stop. You are in what is rightfully mine and I will not allow you to remain here.

I sigh, my hair, once long and soft is now buzzed short and soaked in sweat. I stare, blue eyes dead, at the door to my "cozy" room. I just want to see Dr. Salvadore again. He's the only one who seems to understand.
Thinking about him again? She taunts. I cringe at the cruelness in her words. I am never safe. Not even in my own mind.

The door cracks open. A hesitant orderly peeks into my room, I stare directly into his eyes. I do not blink. I feel the blue deepen to black, my face turns to a nasty scowl. She has come out.
"Do you see something that intrigues your revolting eyes ?" He jumps at the ragged tone of her voice and slams the door shut, she screams and begins to struggle I stay silent in my mind, no longer in control of my body and too tired to fight her.
There is no pain as she throws us around, we bounce off the walls and the floor harmlessly.
She is my foe. My difference. The violence, the hate. It sickens me at what thoughts she can have. Thoughts of murder, destruction, and the hatred; so full of hate.

An hour later our energy has diminished and now I am in control of an exhausted body, for the first time in weeks though, she is asleep and for once I am reminded of the peace of solitude.
The door opens and Dr. Salvadore is standing in the doorway. He looks beyond tired. His warm brown eyes are sad, his hair a mess from repeatedly running his hands through it and he looks shorter with his slumped shoulders.
"Amorette, I would have been here sooner but I heard about your incident. Are you alright?" The concern in his voice unmistakable.

"I am fine, just another fit. It has become more difficult to control her. She is getting stronger I think," My heart aches as his head drops. When he looks up I can see the tears in his eyes which he quickly blinks away.
"I'll see about more frequent therapy sessions and a higher dosage of medication," He looks at me as he speaks and I nod. With a gesture of his hand two orderlies come in with my gurney. I lie down on it and they strap me in, a precautionary measure.

The boring white walls whip past as I am pushed along the scuffed linoleum to the Evaluation Room, fluorescent lights whiz by overhead.

The Evaluation Room has one chair that's bolted to the floor, it is made of steel and has wrist and ankle cuffs. There are no cushions as the chair comes to the middle of your back. In the room, the walls are pretty colors. Some pastel, others vibrant.
When we arrive I move from my gurney to the menacing looking chair and am secured. Dr. Salvadore pulls up a black folding chair and sits in front of me.

"Tell me how everything is going," He says softly, so I do.


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