Chapter Text
Sitting in his office is awkward. Always awkward. How would it not be?
I almost killed myself last week. Overdosed on painkillers while trying to hang myself. My aunt caught me before I can take my last breath. It was before my father’s birthday, which made it more nerve wracking.
Dr. Beary sitting in front of me, making conversation about things that have little-to-no significance to my situation.
He was my family’s doctor. My mother saw him as a young adult. No wonder she kept sending me to him.
“You have pimple scars.” He mentions. I nodded, just so he wouldn't drag it on. It took about an hour train ride to see him in his office, even though my parents were waiting out of his workplace.
“Do you pick at yourself often? In your skin, per-say?” he asked. What was he accusing me of? I don’t cut myself, or anything of that nature.
“My skin just itches.”
There was a sudden silence. Doctor’s face didn't move a muscle. It was quite intimidating. And honestly, very suffocating.
I look through the window, my mother is sobbing, whilst my father is holding my suitcase we used for family vacations. I was confused
“What are my parents doing?” I asked Dr. Beary, digging through my bag on my lap for a cigarette and lighter.
He looks at me, with sympathetic eyes, as his pen taps on his folder, that contain every aspect of my life. I wonder what was in there, whenever I visited.
I had a quick glimpse at it— Acute Psychiatric Episode. My math teacher in the 11th grade mentioned that topic several times, going on about when she had one herself after teaching a middle school class.
“I believe you need a rest, Zizzy. Don't you think?”
I was in need of one, I got up at 8 in the morning just to catch the train for this session. Despite all the concealer I had on my face, the eye bags wouldn't wander off. What a pain.
“There is this facility, just about 1 hour and a half away from here. Right outside Lucella.” He could've just told me it was a psychiatric facility. I knew what he was on about. Maybe he was afraid of scaring me off.
“I'll go on Saturday. I have fencing classes this week.” I told him, too tired to deal with whatever he wanted to tell me.
“You don't gotta worry about that. I've spoken with your parents and little sisters. They arranged things for you”
My little sisters? That was a new low. Telling your 12-year-old twin sisters that you are being sent to the ward by your parents and doctor isn't an easy conversation to have. What do you even tell them? You tried hanging yourself after one too many painkillers you were prescribed?
“A taxi is waiting for you outside. I'll lead you.”
He stood up, and showed me to the taxi. This raunchy guy was the driver, clearly exhausted like I am. He didn't have time for stupid shit like this.
My suitcase was already in the trunk, so I was practically set to go. I would say I was mentally preparing myself, but the thoughts running through my head is making it impossible to even process the situation.
“Take her to Amberdale Institute, Women’s sector. No stops, don't let her out.” He whispered to the driver, although I can still hear it.
I don't blame him, you know? I still don't think I'm crazy enough for an institute.
The drive was quiet, I got to listen to the radio, playing pop songs that I didn't enjoy enough to lip-sync to. Other than that, it was way more comfortable. I didn't hear constant yelling from kids or some junkie.
1 hour and 30 minute time skip
The car stopped in front of the institution, the building was beautiful. I heard from the grape vine that this specific hospital had a more progressive approach to recovery. So, I'd say I was privileged to be admitted to this one and not some lobotomizing ward.
A woman with gorgeous-kinky white hair was standing, waiting for me to get out of the car. Once I actually did, she led me into another office, just to sign a shit-ton of papers saying I admitted myself here voluntarily, even tho my parents were the ones making me go here.
The woman was named Doctor Shiloh, but the patients and other nurses nicknamed her Sheepy. She was the head nurse, but definitely a lovable one.
As she gave me a tour, a slim woman. Slimmer than normal. She began hurling at the top of her lungs in the TV room, while wearing a patient gown that was too big for her.
“Where are my clothes? I need my fucking clothes.” she’d repeat, making one of the neurotic patient cry. So much for a progressive hospital.
Dr Sheepy rolled her eyes towards her, like she had done this before.
“Not until you eat. There is left over Alfredo-shrimp pasta in the cafeteria. Please eat, Kitty.”
Kitty flipped her off, and began throwing up random hand signatures. After another girl beside stopped her, she went back to staring at the TV. It was a re-run of The Children’s Hour. I liked the movie, maybe I will watch it with them later.
The nurse led me to my room. It had two other girls. A white bunny, focused on a book about the nervous system. She seemed like any other person you'd see in the city, so there isn't much to say about her. While the other significantly younger girl, a pig, sat next to her. She had a deformed face.
Her right side was completely covered in scar tissue, while her right eye was still red. Clearly still in the process of a medical recovery. She still seemed content. Almost all the time. It's like it never bothered her.
“Bunny, Penny, this is your new roommate,” She announced, in a neutral tone. Likely a part of the job description.
They both stared at me for a moment. Trying to process what was happening. I return that same stare, before the younger one spoke up first.
“FINALLY!! It's been ages since that bed was empty.” She exclaimed with joy, getting off the bed to jump. She was releasing her energy.
“A week, Penny. Be respectful.” The other on scolded, trying to hide her relief.
Immediately, the entrance door in the hallway flung open, at least 3 cops and 2 nurses were guarding another patient. Sheepy told us that she had to handle said-situation, and ran off to the hallway to meet with them.
“You got a nice suitcase.” Bunny complimented, pointing out the baggage that was infested with stickers my little sisters saved for me.
I thanked her, telling her the small backstory on them. Both of them seemed to appreciate it.
A commotion began happening in the hallway. All three of us peaked through the door, looking at the scene that was going down near the living room.
A wolf, seemingly malnourished, was standing and resisting the nurses and officers touching her while cat calling and commenting on other individuals in the ward.
“IT’S GOOD TO BE HOME!” She exclaimed to Dr Sheepy, before handing in the belongings she found outside.
“Two weeks” Bunny muttered.
“Hm?”
“Two weeks since Willow escaped. Again. Her longest time outdoors.” Penny explained to me, they both seemed used to this.
Willow was her name. It was fitting for her. Matched her character.
The wolf turned to my direction, staring right into my soul before her face contorted with anger. She stomped right into our room, pinning me against the wall and yelling in my face.
“Who are you. Where is he? Where is Tigry? ”
He? I thought this was a women’s facility. That didn't matter to her, though. She kept repeating herself. Where was he? Why am I here? Why is my shit in this room?
I began to panic, and also had to keep repeating that I didn't know. It was the truth, I can't just lie to her. A teenager was having a meltdown right behind her, as the other one stood in fear, not knowing what to do.
The nurses eventually broke into the room, and dragged her out. A nurse whispered to her about what happened with the patient she mentioned, and her fac went blank.
She began yelling about the entire ward being filled with ‘weak people’. She was scratching everybody who was restraining her, until she was moved into a different room.
I quickly shut the door before anything else could happen. To say the least, I was in shock. Penny was sobbing as Bunny held onto her to comfort her.
“I'm sorry... It isn't usually like this.” Bunny stated, her voice still shaky.
“I'm guessing Tigry was the old roommate…?” I asked, still curious on why was a man in the women’s institute.
“He was another patient here. He was a transsexual. Hence, being placed in the women’s ward. He and Willow were very close, like family.”
I somewhat suspected that, but it was taboo to even mention that specific group of people back in the day.
“I think he admitted himself here for schizophrenia… He told us about how he killed his comrade in war, thinking it was a voice in his head.” Penny kept going, clearly not being able to shut herself up.
“What happened?” I reluctantly asked, becoming tense about what details will be told.
“Hung himself with a lamp cord. He's the reason we have to use stupid solar-powered lamps now.”
“Be respectful, Penny. He paid for everything whenever we went on outings.” Bunny scolded her again.
I nodded, sympathizing with Willow in a way.
She was angry. Who wouldn't be angry? Who wouldn't start interrogating the girl who took your best friend’s place in the span of two weeks?
A friend of hers died, and she had to cope with the fact her friend was never going to come back.
It wasn't her fault.