Mike isn't around the next day, but he did stopped by very quickly the morning before breakfast.
Thayer and I are currently at the Art Therapy session which I despite the most. I don't get the point of this therapy, and besides, I am not good at drawing.
Dr. Jean handed us white papers a while ago, telling us that we should draw on it.
She told us to draw about our feelings at the moment, the usual. But this time, she told us to use a pen, not a pencil. She even quoted something about letting out our emotions and reflecting in them yada yada yada.
At the corner of the room, I see Annika rocking on her heels. Her paper is on her right hand and she is staring blankly at her feet. This is the only time that I see her again since what happened a few weeks ago.
Another patient takes a seat next to her in that corner, I look at the patient and she's quiet, gripping the sides of the paper in her hands.
I can feel Dr. Jean's eyes on me. I try to shrug it off pretending that I didn't notice and go back into staring on my own paper.
"So how did it go?" Thayer asks after I had drawn a single bent line on my paper.
I stop for a moment, sparing him a glance and then proceeding on my work which is in fact, I have no idea what I'm doing.
"I found out that I'm mental," I answer casually, but deep inside knowing about it, about myself kind of broke me. I did not expect that which is stupid of me because obviously, I have to be mental to be fitted enough to be admitted in here.
Thayer stay quiet for a second, but I can sense the itch in his tongue to ask another question.
I feel like snapping at him, but I figured what's the point? He isn't even doing anything, just asking.
And thinking about that leads me to the established fact that I have some anger issues.
"I'm schizo," I say after a minute of silence, "I have personality disorder, and also bipolar disorder. Oh and not just that, I also suffered from a post-traumatic disorder that leads me to have those things that I had mentioned."
I didn't even realize that I had been gripping onto my pen a little too tight until a hole got formed on my paper.
"And now it's ruined," I mutter, "just like my whole life."
Thayer stops what he is doing, though he haven't even really started anything. He turns to face me, "your life isn't ruined."
"Oh yeah? I don't think so," I say sarcastically.
He puts down his pen ready to abandon the task at hand but then realized Dr. Jean is watching so he takes the pen back and started drawing a line.
"You'll create a new life once we get out of here," he whispers, "it isn't ruined."
I don't know what's happening to me but I feel my blood boil hearing that and so I snapped, "Oh funny because I am not escaping this asylum."
I didn't have to look at him to see the flabbergasted look in his face. I can already picture him opening his mouth and then closing it again as his forehead creased.
"What?"
His tone sounds annoyed.
"Look Thayer," I sigh glancing over at Dr. Jean's direction to see if she is watching. Fortunately, she is on the other side of the room instructing one patient, "I know I've said I'd go escape with you out of here but..."
"But what?"
"Look, I've seen my records. And I do deserve to be in here. So I don't think I should go."
"Those records are from years ago," Thayer counters, "have you checked the recent ones? About the improvements that you had made during the progressing years?"
I look at him with eyebrows creased, he's totally talking nonsense right now. Or at least nonsense for me because I'm too dumb to know such things.
"I'm pretty sure I've read all my records," is all that I could say as I get back with my work.
"You're better than that."
I roll my eyes at him feeling irritated. I stare at my paper with different lines scribbled messily in there. I deserve to be here, that's why I'm not escaping. Me being locked up in here has a valid reason, so why should I bother with escaping this horrible place if I myself too is insane?
"What do you know?" I scoff. Thayer looks at me for split second shaking his head. I didn't talk to him after that and I remain quiet until we are escorted back to our rooms.
✂------------------------------------------
I've been sitting here inside my cell for almost a whole day now, and still, Mike isn't coming around. I didn't see him at lunch, he isn't there after the Art session either. And when I waited for him to take me to the cafeteria on dinner time, another nurse barged inside my room escorting me out.
Maybe he's on his day-off for today? I don't know, but this morning he stopped by, that's why I'm confused.
I remember the scar I had seen on his arm the other day. I'm quite suspicious when he told me he just bumped into something, because I might be clueless about certain things and a lot of things in the outside world, but I am not stupid to know that people don't get scars when they just bump into something.
But I'm going to make sure that I'd squeeze the truth out of him once I see him.
On another note, Thayer and I are not on speaking terms right now. I feel bad for being snappy and all grumpy with him earlier. I feel bad that I decided to back out on the plan. But it wouldn't be right if I escape out of here.
I saw my records, and it's not pretty.
But something in the back of my mind continuously repeats what Thayer had suggested earlier. My recent records, he is right, I haven't seen the recent ones. The folder that Mike and I had managed to steal from that little room the other night was dated way back in 2010.
I don't keep track of what date it is right now, heck even what year it is? 2015 or 2016? I'm not sure, but I'm sure it's between those two.
On the pile of papers included in the folder, the last record signed by Dr. Collins was dated on December 2010. And then it ended there. There are no other papers. I even checked earlier the moment I got back here from Art session.
Maybe Mike would know what to do. I just need to see him and talk to him right now.
I look at the door, waiting for it to be opened and for Mike to walk inside but as an hour and a half had passed, still there aren't any traces of him.
Maybe he'll come around tomorrow.
And also, I would have to explain and apologize to Thayer. I don't want any fights and I'll make sure to prove my point to him about me not wanting to escape anymore.
Sure it sound tempting, it screams freedom and a new life. But I'm too chicken to even get out of this asylum knowing about my past.
I just simply don't think I deserve it.
✂------------------------------------------
I'm running out of drafts omg. Hey lovely people ! So this is another update and it's the 30th chapter already, it's incredible how amazing every single one of you who reads, vote and comment and also join Scarlett through her discoveries inside the sanitarium. I'm really thankful to all of you who are supporting this story and liking it :3 Thank you sooooo much, from the bottom of my hypothalamus.
Anyway, I was actually contemplating on updating because I'm running out of drafts, but I don't want to just leave you all lovely readers hanging. So voila, here's an update! Anyway, I'm still trying to find a free time for me to write future chapters, but I just can't find it at this time. I'm too busy with uni and I have a laboratory practical exams on Monday and a loonggg quiz about histology. I'm currently writing notes right now. And my brain is exploding. Anyway, I am ranting and I figured I should stop sorry.
Back to the story, do you have any guesses on what's bound to happen? And also, just for a simple thought, I want to know what you guys wanted to happen with the story. I want to know your opinions and thoughts so please, don't hesitate to leave it down on the comment section xx
This is such a LONG author's note so I'm stopping right now.
Also thank you again for the amazing reads, votes and comments.
10/01/18
I debated whether or not I'd delete the long ass author's note above ⬆ I'm too talkative smh, sorry lovelies 😂
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