Institutionalized

___________________________________________________________________________

After my strange phone call, I was introduced to the older nurse; her name is Margaret. I didn’t really care, but she was nice enough, so I was nice too. She reminded me of my best friends’ mom.

Then Nurse Jane took me back into the main room, where a few more people had gathered, and brought me to a small room I hadn’t noticed before. It was along the same wall the hallway leading out was, and opposite the wall with the hallway of patient rooms. The wall to the left was solid, the one to the right led to offices, including the one I’d been in the previous night with Jackie.

The room was full of all kinds of things; toiletries, clothes, books, towels, sheets, pillows, light bulbs, etc. It was all crammed in there, in an orderly way, and it was almost unrealistic how much was in the small room.

The nurse handed me a mesh laundry bag and I stared at it confused.

“How do those clothes fit?” she asked, looking me up and down; disapprovingly at my ripped socks.

“Well, besides having tie up pants and one-size-fits-all underwear, the shirts tight,” I replied, with a hint of sarcasm.

She dropped some clothes in the bag along with a few pairs of socks, underwear and a towel. She grabbed a few toothbrushes and held them out, “Which color?” she asked. I immediately grabbed the bright pink one; the nurse giving me a strange look.

“Is there any chance that I might not need these things and be released early?” I asked, half joking.

“I don’t think so Mr. Cryztol,” Nurse Jane replied, seriously. “Here,” she said, handing me a tube of toothpaste, a bar of soap and some shampoo. I dumped it all in the bag.

“Do you think I could get some paper and a pen?” I asked, looking around and spotting some notebooks.

“Are you a writer?” she asked, reaching for the notebooks.

“No, an artist; well, so to speak,” I replied.

She put back the notebook she was holding and grabbed one from a different pile, flipping through it to make sure there were no lines on the paper.

“Thanks,” I said, as she handed it to me, before she turned around and started searching for something else higher up. I couldn’t help but check out her ass as I waited, but she was kind of scrawny and looked like a twelve year old boy from behind.

“Do you want colored pencils?” she asked.

“No, just a pen is all,” I replied, grateful that they’d actually give me a pen. By this point I’d completely forgotten about the pen I’d stolen from Jackie.

She handed me two black pens but kept the lids. I tested both pens on the back of the note-book, they both worked nice and I caught myself genuinely smiling and I tried to stop; but the feeling of pen and paper was familiar and comforting to me. These crazy people were neither familiar nor comforting...

“These are just the basic necessities. If you accept visitors, they’re allowed to bring you things,” she added, almost as an afterthought. She guided me back into the main room and shut and locked the storage door.

“So there’s a visitor area?” I asked, excited. I didn’t care who visited me, they were going to bring me some damn shoes

“Actually no, visitors are brought through the hospital, into the ward, and the meeting is held in your room; it’s not real private,” explained the nurse.

“That seems weird. Isn’t that a security threat? I could get someone to bring me a gun and some explosives and go kamikaze! Or what if I could get someone to bring me a brick of heroin and turn all the patients into junkies? Wait, what if some crazy cannibals rip apart and eat my visitor? Do I get visitor compensation?” I asked, acting foolish.

“Please Salem,” she said. Not a question but two exasperated words I’d heard from all kinds of people before, from my parents, my teachers, my friends, from my psychiatrists and even from Kieran. It was strange to hear it from someone I’d just met, in a place like this.

“Okay, I’m done,” I said, which doubled as an apology as far as I’m concerned.

“To tell you the truth,” she said, leaning in and lowering her voice, “We don’t get many visitors here.”


_________________________________________________________________________

I spent the next three hours in my new room; drawing in my new notebook. I drew mostly things I’d drawn before (Dragons, fairies, anime, graffiti, a distorted cityscape, and other random doodles of tanks and guns, stars and hearts...etc.) but I wasn’t at all interested.

Jackie still wasn’t ready to talk to me, and the entire time I’d been back in the room, I hadn’t seen Lucius. Not that I cared, but it was already getting awfully boring. I’d already put away the things nurse Jane had given me and had filled half the notebook with drawings.

I didn’t know what to do so I wandered back into the hall. I had every intention of finding out if Jackie was ready, when I was stopped by a hand from behind.

I turned to find a girl of about 17; pretty, but unsmiling. Her hair was jet black and pin straight to her mid back, except for her bangs, which were short, but came to a slight point above her nose. Her nails and lips were black, contrasting with her pale skin. She also had a few strange looking tattoos.

“Everyone has been buzzing about you, and I just wanted to introduce myself,” she said, holding out one delicate hand which I took, “I’m Mona Lisa.”

“Salem,” I replied, raising her hand and lightly brushing my lips across her knuckles.

I dropped her hand immediately, embarrassed. Kissing a girls hand is way out of character for me and I decided to blame the whole thing on her French accent.

“Well, Salem, it’s a pleasure. What do you think of this place so far?” she asked, looping her arm in mine and we continued walking down the hall.

“What do you think?” I replied, sarcastically.

“Don’t worry, I’ve been here over a year, and it doesn’t get any better,” she said, continuing, “Some people can adapt pretty well, but I don’t think you’re one of them.”

“No.”

“Well, I’ll see you,” she said, before turning back down the hallway. I stared after her almost wishing she hadn’t walked away.

As much as I hate to admit it, I think I’d just found some kind of ally. The girls’ actions and words were startlingly easy for me to get along with.

After a few moments standing there looking stupid, I remembered why I originally left the room. I moved across what I’m going to refer to as the Lounge, and knocked on the office door where I assumed Jackie was.

After several moments of waiting the door opened, and a tired looking Jackie looked out at me before holding the door open and gesturing me inside.

Without saying anything I followed her in and sat down as she did the same across from me. I recognized my file from the night before; it was open on the desk with papers and notes scattered everywhere.

“I’ve been reading...” Jackie mumbles distractedly.

“I see.”

“And I don’t know what to make of some of it. I have to admit, some of the doctors you’ve been to were full of shit, so to speak. Reports aren’t filled out properly, and some of the medications you were given don’t even coincide with the disorders you were diagnosed with.”

“Yes, I know.” I reply neutrally.

“I’d just like to know what you think about being diagnosed with so many different illnesses,” she said, imploring yet unquestioning.

“Well…I think my parents were never satisfied with the doctors’ diagnosis; so when they’d take me to a different shrink, the new guy would already know what not to diagnose me with. You know what I mean?” I asked, knowing I couldn’t properly explain how I felt in words.

More or less, my parents were rich enough to threaten the doctors into fixing me. I’ve been prescribed so much medication over the years that I’d probably be dead now if I had of actually taken any of it. My parents couldn’t accept that there was nothing really wrong with me; but it was they who also basically isolated me from being a part of the family. So no wonder I’m rebellious and can’t stand them.

“I think I know what you mean. From my brief encounters with you I don’t feel any of these disorders apply to you; except for two, possibly. That is up to Dr. Savage to decide,” she said, pausing to shuffle some paperwork, “After your session with him tomorrow he will decide which medication to put you on, and the following day you will begin treatments.”

“I’d really rather not take the meds.”

“It really is in your best interest Salem,” she replied, and I decided to say nothing. “Well, I was hoping to talk to you longer today, but I have a crazy amount of paperwork. You should go back to your room now, food will be served shortly.”

I said nothing as I got up to leave. I left her office quickly, feeling the usual tenseness associated with talking about my ‘mental illness’ melt away.

I headed back to my room with my head down, pondering my situation.

When I got back to the room I didn’t notice Lucius sitting on his bed. When I finally did notice and look over, he was glaring at me as I sat down across from him. What the fuck was his problem?

“What are you doing in my room?” Lucius asked his voice much angrier than the shy confused way he was talking before.

“I’m your roommate, Salem remember?” I asked, unsure of what to do in this situation. For a moment he looked confused, before understanding dawned on him.

“Oh, right,” he replied quietly. He looked me over as if he’d never seen me before. “I’m Lucius.”

And so it begins...


___________________________________________________________________________