Psychological Affairs

Chapter Fifteen: Wednesday, July 4th, 2007

Wednesday, July 4th, 2007

The eerie sound of the door opening woke me up.

“Alright, get up.” Sharon said.

I looked up at her, unknown of my surroundings. I nodded, getting up from the padded floor and got up, my legs wobbling. You’d think you’d get used to being tranquilized. I walked passed her, anger boiling over with each step. I skipped morning pills to go into my room. 8 months. 8 months in this place. 

Now, why was I put down like an animal yesterday? Well, I punched this girl named Adrienne in the face. Adrienne was being annoying, as usual, going through one of her multiple personalities. One of the personalities was Mary, her “holy and saved” personality. Mary started quoting Biblical verses to everyone. I was sitting alone, blowing a cigarette, when she walked up to me and started freaking out.

“SATAN! SATAN!” She screamed. Everyone focused their attention on us.

She started shaking and getting water to throw at me. It was when she started quoting her 10th Biblical verse when I finally punched her in the face. She fell down, crying. I stood up, laughing. The PTs looked up, frowning. I already knew what they were going to say, “That’s it, Michael! I’m deducting ___ points!” Like I gave a fuck. It’s not like Adrienne/Mary/Teresa/Catherine/Donald/Tom/Dick/Harry was well liked in here either. I could see the PTs’ face whenever she was around. I just did them a favor. 

Anyways, my PT, Richard (or is it Ronald? I honestly don’t care, he’ll be gone in a week or so if not sooner), commanded that I go into my room where my roomate, Kate, was reading (crying). Anyways, I commanded that he’d shut the fuck up. He called reinforcements, I ran. They caught up to me, held me down, injected me with Ativan in my ass, and dropped me into the isolation room. My routine every other day.

I woke up this morning, angrier than usual. All the patients went out. My floor was almost empty. I walked into the public bathing room. I sat in one of the tubs, dry and drained. I put the water on, colder than my feelings at the moment. I didn’t even bother removing my clothes. I laid back and took in my surroundings. Bleak. Quiet. I looked around in the empty room until I saw Sharon, with a razor in her hand. She handed them to me, sitting down in front of me. I took it from her.

“You’re not going to take your clothes off?”

“…………………” I ignored her, dipping the razor into my tub as the water reached new heights.

I sighed, laying back, letting the water soak my back and hair. I wanted to drown myself and feel how it is to die since I’m already empty inside, but Sharon was there. I sat up; the water rushing down my back. I looked at her.

“I need soap.” I said. She looked around before she got up.

“I’ll be right back.” She said, turning her back (her first mistake) and going out the room (her second mistake).

I looked at the razor. It wasn’t sharp enough to cut my skin, but it was sharp enough to remove hairs. The first thought that popped into my head was to remove my hair. I took the razor and let it glide against my hair. My hair wasn’t short. It was curled and reached the bottom of my earlobes. By the time Sharon came back, I was shaving the back. She stopped in her tracks, mouth open.

“What the hell are you doing?” She said.

“Nothing.” I said, stopping. 

I put the razor under the water to hide under my hair in the tub. An abundance of hair covered my hands. She ran over to me, bending over to snatch the razor from my hand. I guess I lost the shaving privilege too. She stood up in front of me and for awhile, it was like an ongoing staring match until I finally broke the silence.

“You lost all of your points.” I shrugged.

“I don’t give a fuck.” I glared.

“Well, you should give a fuck when the court denies you of letting you out!” She bellowed. I smiled.

“I’ve been in here, 8 months. 8-FUCKING-MONTHS! Do you think I give a fuck if they let me out?!” I matching her tone.

“Maybe if you clean up your act, then they could release you early. You’re over here, walking around like you hate the world, throwing stuff and hitting people like a damn child! You’re 15, grow up!” She said.

“YOU DON’T KNOW ME! You don’t know what I’ve been through?”

“Honey, I’ve seen cases like you every year. You are nothing special, princess. You’re nothing but some spoiled brat acting like a lunatic.” I stood up, stepping out of the tub to focus my eyes on her.

“I thought you wanted me to be crazy. Isn’t this why I’m fucking here? If I’m gonna be staying in a fucking mental hospital, I will fucking act crazy. That’s the point.”

“No, the point is for you to get better. Listen, Michael, I know girls like you. Girls who hate everything and blame the world for their problems. The world doesn’t know you and it doesn’r hate you. Get over yourself.” She stepped into me, an inch from my face,

“There you go, judging me.”

“Judging you? Honey, I KNOW YOU. I know you’re smart. I know you’re capable of more than this. I know crazy and trust me, you aren’t. You’re driving yourself crazy.” 

“I’m not crazy? Then I GUESS EVERYTHING I’M TOLD IS A LIE!” I said, moving away from her.

I took the chair and threw it against the window, smashing it into a million pieces.

“THERE! I AM FUCKING CRAZY!” I said, shouting in her face. She looked at the glass and then me.

“You aren’t. You aren’t crazy.” She said.

A group of men walked into the room before I had anything else to add. They all tried to hold me. I struggled against their tight grip until they held me down. I felt the familiar feeling of a needle on my ass, calming me down.

“NOOOOOO!” I screamed, slower and slower.

The last person I saw was Sharon, her arms folded while shaking her head. My eyes started to fog and then blur. Reality became a dream. Sharon’s words were stuck into my head.

“You aren’t crazy.” “You’re driving yourself crazy.”

It all repeated as I saw everything became blurry.