Institutionalized

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I started getting cold; waiting, barefoot in the hall. I fiddled with my clothes-sheet thing, trying to tie it so I wouldn’t have to hold it. Once I’d managed to make it into a fucked up looking toga I left it; looking around at the other doors, each marked with a ‘Dr. Someone’ in gold lettering. Well aren’t we all so fucking special?

I could hear movement on the other side of the door, and started to get irritated. What was taking so long? My nervousness slipped away and I felt my impatient self kicking in and before I thought about it I started knocking on the door continuously, getting louder until it suddenly swung away from me.

I stumbled and almost fell into, presumably, Don Savage. He looked as surprised as I felt, and I cautiously slipped by him, uninvited, into the room.

“Mr. Cryztol, you couldn’t have given me a few minutes?” the doctor asked from behind me, a hint of amusement in his voice. I turned around at him, glaring and feeling annoyed.

“No, Don. It’s cold out there and I’m not wearing any fucking clothes!” I said, feeling more like myself. I took a minute to look him over. I was initially surprised by how young he was, he looked younger than thirty. He had dirty blond hair, and black framed glasses with a look on his face that told me we’d gotten off on the wrong foot.

“I can get you some clothes for now, but you’ll be changing into patients garbs shortly anyways,” he said flatly. He looked me over, staring at my scars. I gave him a challenging look, narrowing my eyes and sending him my best ‘death glare’. He looked away abruptly and almost looked guilty. “Why don’t you have a seat, Mr. Crystol,” he offered. I sat down and watched him disappear into another room.

When he returned he had a bundle in his arm, and tossed it to me. I caught it with little grace; most of the clothes hitting me it the face. I glared again but was too grateful to comment. “Thanks,” I mumbled. I quickly put the socks on my ice cold feet. I managed to put the pants on under my toga, and then stared at him expectantly. When I realized he wasn’t going to turn away, I quickly took off the sheet and slipped into the sweater he’d given me. I sat down again, waiting for him to say something.

“Is there anything in particular you’d like to talk about, Mr. Cryztol?” He asked, sitting down across from me. I stared at him, thinking the question odd; we’d only just met and he’s already pulling this psycho garb on me?

“Well, no,” I replied, honestly, “you could stop calling me ‘Mr. Cryztol’,” then added, as an after thought. The sleeves of the sweater were too long and I basked in the sudden warmth, my hands finally stopped tingling from cold.

“Alright Salem, if you like. My names Dr. Savage, I’m sure you already know that,” he said, distractedly as he flipped through a notebook and tested his pen. “You’re at the West wood Sanatorium of Mental Heath,” he said, suddenly looking up at me apparently trying to gauge my reaction. I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, I know. It was on the doctors’ lab coat,” I replied as if it should be obvious. He nodded but said nothing so I continued, “What kind of a name is that anyways? West Wood? It sounds like some mystical forest with fairies and nymphs and shit. And sanatorium? Isn’t that kind of a long-term word?”

“Not all of our patients are long term, Salem.” He paused. “I’ve seen your scars.”

“So what?” I said, more defensively than I’d intended. I was caught off guard. Who the hell changes subjects like that?

“While you were asleep,” he continued, pretending I hadn’t said anything, “quite remarkable I think. We’ll, that is, I’ve never seen scars quite like yours before.” He finished, sounding thoughtful.

“You know, I don’t really want to talk about this Don, I don’t think it’s such a big fucking deal,” I said, matter-of-factly. He gave me a small smile then jotted something in his book. I tried to crane my neck to see, but he kept moving it out of my sight. I sighed, blowing hair out of my eyes.

“I deal with most patients at West Wood that has problems like yours. It’s kind of like my field. You know, depression, self-mutilation, drugs...I’ll be your doctor as long as you stay here,” he said, changing the topic out of nowhere. Problems like mine? I didn’t have any problems and the casual words and tone of his voice were starting to piss me off.

“Look, I don’t have a fucking ‘problem’. I don’t know what you people have been told, or what you think, but I’m fine; and I shouldn’t be in here,” I said bitterly, challenging him with my eyes. “What kind of place is this anyways? The white room? You strapped me down and drugged me! God only knows what you did to me while I was out.” I stopped and thought for a moment. “So what’s the big deal with you being my doctor, you’re not asking me any questions?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him and abruptly changing the conversation.

“I figured we could just talk today, casually, and get to know each other,” he said, smiling. Oh, awesome. That’s just what I wanted to do.

“Sounds lame. What could we possibly talk about?” I asked sarcastically, feeling bored with Doc. He was a weird shrink.

“I want you to tell me how you feel about yourself,” he replied, regaining that annoying thoughtful look again.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “I feel okay.”

“How do you feel about the way you look?” he asked again. I glared daggers at him.

“I feel fine about myself,” I replied shortly. He stared at me blankly for a moment before looking away and shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it for now. We should talk about your schedule, and your ward,” he replied, grabbing a large binder from a shelf and coming to sit next to me.

“My ward?” I asked, watching him flip through the binder. It looked like a bunch of maps and charts and codes of some sort.

“Yes, it’s where you’ll stay. You’re in ward M9. That just means you’re a minor, and you’re part of corridor 9. The wards are broken up into groups of males and females, classified by their needs,” I nodded, listening to him. “M9 is the only co-ed ward with male and female patients.” It all sounded so fucked up to me since I never imagined I’d actually be in this situation; and now he was pointing out the different corridors and pointed at mine, M9.

The map showed the whole sanatorium. It looked massive; the main building and the buildings surrounding it made a huge octagon. It was kind of intimidating and I started to feel really, seriously nervous for the first time. There was no way I could remember any part of the map. The corridors were laid out in such a way to make it nearly impossible for us crazies to escape.

“We should go now, Salem. I’ll show you to your ward and one of the nurses there will get you settled and introduce you to your roommate,” Doc said, and stood up putting his binder on the shelf and pocketing his little notepad and pen. So much for reviewing that schedule, ‘eh?

“My roommate?” I asked, following him out into the bright grey hallway.

“Yeah, he’s not my patient but I think you’ll get along pretty well.” he said, glancing back at me.

“And why’s that?” I asked.

“I don’t know, just a feeling I have. He’s been here longer than any of the other patients in M9,” he replied casually. What did that have to do with anything?

I said nothing as I followed him through the maze of hallways, up three steps, through a door and into another, brighter maze. This hallway was white, and a lot wider than the cement lair we just came from. We made a lot of lefts, but at least one right. I lost track after awhile; it seemed like this place was huge and we hadn’t seen any people yet. It was creepy.

Finally we came to another set of doors; a small sign above it read M9. This time the doctor needed a passkey to get through the doors. There was a loud buzzing noise as he pulled out his card, and opened the door. I followed him inside.

He led me over to a small desk with the same blonde nurse from earlier, sitting behind a mound of papers and computer equipment. Don was talking to her in a hushed voice and I missed what they were saying, then Don turned to me.

“Well, this is it Salem. Nurse Jacqueline will show you around and get you settled into your room and review the schedule with you, okay? I’ll see you in two days for our session,” he shook my hand briefly and was gone before I could respond.

I stared at the nurse, before following after her. She was talking about something, but I couldn’t really pay attention. All I could hear were the very distant but quite real screams and cries of crazy people; or at least one screaming crazy person. I don’t know but...

I’ll be a screaming lunatic in no time if I have to listen to that everyday.

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