"...Do you understand? Melanie?"
"Sorry?"
Doctor Camryn waved a bottle of pills in my face, gently opening my fist with her hand so she could place the small bottle in my palm.
"Take 25 milligrams every night, at least an hour before bedtime. A nurse will usually give you a tablet with dinner. You will participate in group therapy sessions twice a day, once in the morning, once in the evening seven days a week. No cell phones or outside calls for the first 24 hours."
I gulped, picking at my jeans, the faded blue fabric beginning to pull apart. It was a lot to take in, and I found it hard to listen to each detail because I was fighting back tears. I didn't want to be here.
I am not crazy.
YESYOUARE.
There are people out there who care about me.
THEYWANTYOUDEAD.
I matter.
NOYOUDONT.
There's nothing to worry about with me. I'm honestly doing much better than before. My memory is even restoring itself.
I know my name, my mom, my brother, my boyfriend, their band; though I am starting to forget what it is called.
What am I doing here?
After Camryn took a short pause for questions, I spoke up, my throat hoarse. "Am I allowed to have visitors?"
"Next week, but it all depends on how you are reacting to the treatment."
I nodded. My neck was stiff. My hand grazed the sides of my neck, examining the grooves and ridges where my veins were buried. I pressed my fingers into my jaw; my pulse spoke with steady rythmn.
"Sign here, please." She handed me a wooden clipboard that looked flimsy enough to break in half. She rested a finger at the bottom of the page. "This gives us permission and consent to proceed with our treatment. You'll be a valid patient of Cedar Hill Psychiatric Center until you show improvement. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I manged to choke, wiping my clammy palms on my jeans so I could hold the pen without it slipping through my thin fingers.
The pen tip shivered as I sloppily signed above the black line of ink.
Camryn hesitantly lifted the clipboard out of my lap. "Thank you. Follow me, I'll show you to your room." I skeptically trudged behind her up the spiraling flight of cracked marble stairs to a long hallway that reminded me of something I had seen out of a dream. We approached a thick metal door. Pushing it open, I could see that inside there were several beds, separated by curtains. I stumbled towards mine.
It was similar to a hospital bed, with bleached linen sheets and a thin gown folded neatly at the foot of my bed. "I'll let you get dressed, and you can get to know your roommates as well. I'll be back in about forty minutes with your diagnosis."
I examined the small section that I had been forced to stay in before I slowly lifted the gown from the bed, holding it up against my body. It hung just above my knees, and I prayed it was long enough to conceal my persistently jagged scars.
I bid goodbye to my casual clothes- my insanely comfortable Mayday Parade hoodie and stretchy skinny jeans, though they were beginning to grow old on me.
I slipped on the flimsy thing, the sleeves hardly staying on my shoulders. I wrapped the strings around my torso twice before tying it in a loose knot that hung by the small of my back. I disposed of my clothes in a large plastic container that rested on the floor near my bed.
Once I did this, the door immediately opened, scaring me enough to knock me off my feet. Realizing I had nothing on underneath, I scrambled back onto my feet.
Luckily, it was not Doctor Camryn. I had a bone or two to pick with her as it was. Instead entered two people in gowns- a boy and a girl, both around my age.
The girl, upon entering, smiled at me and tugged on the boy's arm. "I didn't know we were getting a new roommate. What's your name?"
She held out her hand, revealing the scars on her wrist that reminded me of mine.
"M-Melanie."
"I'm Ashley, and this is Tyler."
Ashley was definitely easy on the eyes. Her short hair was a striking electric blue color, shaved on the sides to reveal her natural roots. Her eyes were a duller blue, brightened by the freckles dotting her nose.
"Did you just arrive?"
"Yeah..." I curled my toes against the carpet.
"I've been here the longest. A month. Tyler has been here for 4 weeks."
Tyler, realizing he hadn't greeted me, timidly waved. "Hi there." He had short brown hair that stuck up in several different directions. The way his bottom lip stuck out slightly told me that he definitely wasn't as peppy or headstrong as Ashley. The most interesting part about him was his
tattoos.
On his left arm were several black bands that wrapped around his bicep, slowly shrinking down, three miniscule bands wrapped around his wrist. I was curious about what they meant, but I was sure now would be a peculiar time to ask.
"Do you mind if I ask why they have you here?" Ashley wondered.
"Well, they have yet to diagnose me, but I've been classified as severely depressed with severe anxiety. How about you?"
"Impulse and anxiety disorders. And Tyler here is schizophrenic with seasonal depression."
"Oh..." I gazed down at my feet. "I've never really met anyone who can relate to me."
"Well, now that you have, I'm sure we'll be really good friends. Right, Ty?" She nudged him with his elbow. A small smile tugged at his lips. He was definitely quiet.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad here, after all.
