Mentally Disturbed

Chapter Nine

Arnold

Day 6

Fuck my life. All I ever did was screw it all up. Here I am waking up in a fucking hospital unit for crazy people when I'm obviously not crazy.

I should be home. At school, hanging with a bunch of friends and getting laid. I should be playing awesome shows with my guitar with the music prodigy work I can write.

I should be living a damn normal life rather than this damn shit one.

I didn't want to get out of bed at all. I laid there staring blankly at the ceiling contemplating my entire life. My parents must be disappointed to the bone. I could never make them proud. I'm a professional failure.

*

I started throwing books around my room and punching my pillows again but it wasn't enough. It only made me feel worse knowing I couldn't leave any damage into the soft material, making me feel defeated instead. I kept pacing in my room back and forth as I bit my nails. I needed to release all of this. I sat on my bed with my face buried into my hands.

I couldn't think straight.

I groaned furiously as I got up and punched the wall. I groaned again at the pain but I did it again, and again and again. I couldn't feel the pain anymore, but pleasure. My knuckles were now bloody and the wall slightly cracked. I stopped and smiled at the damage I've done.

I backed away from the wall. Then grabbed my lamp and slammed it into the pavement again. Watching the antique shatter to the floor giving me satisfaction. The shards of glass nothing but a temptation to set the bad feelings within me free... 

I knelt down to the floor, staring at the pieces. I could do this now, this is my chance. You'll never find another opportunity Arnold. You can't keep these feelings inside.

I just wanted to let them flow out of me. Rid me of the guilt for merely existing.

I grabbed a shard, and lined it up with my wrist. Just a little afar from my old scars that are still stitched up.

And that's when I let everything go.
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Blood starting to run down my wrist and into my palms. I feel so much better. I started crying in joy at what I've actually accomplished.

Soon the doors bursted open, breaking the through the lock I had made. Nurses piled into my room as they pulled me away form the glass.

I was kicking and screaming. Pushing them all away. I just wanted to die.

I just wanted to fucking die.

I was soon attacked with a shot to the side of my ribs. I looked up to the doctor who injected me and I stared him down with the cruelest eyes I could manage before I completely blacked out.