Scrabble

"No, No, No, don't come any closer to me," I screamed as the monsters in white coats who grabbed my arm and dragged me to the door of my house.

"Blair, Honey it's fine, it's for your own good," my mother told me as I was dragged out of the house. That was a lie. I couldn't get any better, I could only get worse. I heard her talking to Dr. Carmine about my schizo- something or other, and how it was only going to get worse.

"I can't believe this," I muttered to myself, trying to be calm with all that is going on, I can't believe my own family would do this to me. My own family whom I thought loved me. I start struggling to get out of their hold. I bit the person on the right's wrist to try to get out but that only made it worse. They both just held on tighter so I wouldn't get away.

They shoved me into the van, buckled my seat, very tight, so I couldn't get out, and we left. They betrayed me. My family betrayed me. I was screaming as loud as I could for as long as I could and planned on doing this until my voice gave out. It hurt to scream, half way through the ride, I had been doing this for a straight 24 hours, since last night when my parents warned me about this and I tried escaping, but my parents just locked me in my room.

We arrived at a large white building and a sign in front of the huge building said St. Margaret's Mental Hospital. It was Monday morning. The dash read 8:25. They took me into the hospital, took all I had, made me change clothes and put me into my own room. The room was pure white. I walked around the room after I had calmed down. Afterward, I sat on the bed in the top right corner of the room. The bed sheets were plain white along with the frame. I sank into the bed as I sat down. I fell over the bed and started to cry. A river of tears fell from my eye onto the bed. There was a huge wet spot on the bed and, didn't go away till the next morning. I cried with frustration, I don't understand why I am here and what the meaning of all of this.

I started to doze off. I had fallen asleep and didn't wake up for a while. I heard a knock on my door "Breakfast," a nurse spoke softly as she passed my room.

I got up and to see what was happening. I went to open the door and it was unlocked. I stepped outside the door a step. All I could see was nurses rushing around and other patients being herded through the hall like cattle.I slammed my door shut and went back to my bed and stayed there.

Throughout the rest of the day, nurses would knock on my door to tell me where I was supposed to go and when it was time to eat ,but I stayed in my room the whole day holding the grudge I had held my arms. I was nurturing it so it would become angrier and stronger.

I did this for two days straight until one of the nurses, on the third day around lunch time, realized I wasn't leaving my room for food. My arms became weak and I could barely stand up.She came in to check on me and brought me out to the cafeteria, where everybody else was, to eat. I don't blame her for not noticing, there were a lot of patients and I was one of the many angry and defiant patients.

On the second day, my parents came to visit me. I was notified and rejected the offer. I didn't want to look at them, talk to them or even hear their name period. I stayed in my room and just sat there. I could hear the nurse tell my mother and father and I could hear my mother weep over hearing the news. I don't care how they feel. I just want to be alone.

On the third day, I finally ate. I didn't feel too hungry. I was overflowing with anger and frustration from my parents shipping me off to this prison to even think about how starved I was. All I could feel was rage. I don't want to hurt anyone but I feel more anger than I have ever felt in my life. I knew that I would ever get over it.

I ate. The food was not very good but it was standard hospital food, what more would you expect? I looked down at my plate, when it was served to me, there was a dome of mashed potatoes, peas, orange slices, a small water bottle and a cup of jello. As I was eating the watery tasting mashed potatoes I looked up from my plate to the person who was sitting next to me. He was sorting his food before he ate it.