Insane Doesn't Even Begin to Cover It...

Insane Doesn't Even Begin to Cover It... Chapter 46

Chapter 46:

          I don’t know how long it takes for my body to calm down and stop shaking, how long it takes for my brain to start fathoming actual thoughts again, or for me to be able to move my body parts without flailing everywhere. But eventually, it does happen.

          I’d been moved to many different places in my stupor, just an unresponsive zombie that has to be picked up and transplanted in a new spot. I’d remained in that first position the longest, before I was taken to a sterile, white cell. When nothing had happened while I was there, I suppose, they moved me back to my room.

          Which is where I am now.

          No one has come to see me yet, I think they feel that they should have left me alone after whatever happened. I’m not exactly sure how much time passed from the beginning to the end of my breakdown, but it was probably a while, at least a day and a half.

          That might seem extreme, but my body was to blame. It just wouldn’t… unlock. I vaguely remember doctors pumping things into my veins, things that sent fire throughout my bloodstream, making my heart race and sweat start to form on my skin. Eventually they just stopped, though, when nothing was working.

          Staring at the wall opposite my position, I wait for a little bit longer before actually testing my arms and legs to make sure they’ll work for me. Even when I do finally move, I take it slow. Gradually wiggling my feet and then sliding my knees up to my chest, then sliding my legs out from under the blanket. Dragging my body upwards, I slump forwards in what resembles an upright position, until I get my arms working enough to push me up straighter.

          The room spins for a few moments and I take a deep breath, closing my eyes and waiting for the vertigo to stop. Finally it feels like the room has stopped twirling in circles, and I shove myself to my feet. I wobble a little bit as I walk, but I decide to ignore it. I hate feeling too weak to do simple things like walking for myself.

          It takes me a few tries to pull open the door, but eventually my hands get it right and the heavy object swings inwards towards me. I stumble over my feet to get out of the way before I hit myself. Poking my head out around the doorframe, I peer down the hallway. No one is there. Of course, I doubt they’d really be keeping watch outside.

          That’s what the cameras are for, even though I’d broken the camera in my room ages ago.

          Slipping out through the door, I lean against the wall and start sliding my way towards the stairs. Using the wall for support was the only way I could be sure that I wouldn’t fall on my ass if my jello-like legs decided to stop working. Once I’m across from the stairs, I start shuffling my way across the hallway, grabbing hold of the rail once I make it.

          It takes at least ten minutes for me to get down from my floor to the floor below mine, and I do my best not to stop to take a breath. It feels like I’ve just run a mile, although I’m not sure why. I feel like an old woman – which shouldn’t be natural.

          After a while, I eventually make it to the first floor. Luckily, no one tries to stop me as they pass, only giving me sidelong looks until I glare at them to stop. Holding my head high, I walk into the cafeteria with the aid of the wall, and completely ignore the line. I don’t think I could handle waiting behind the few people already there.

          Instead, I head straight to my table, almost stopping in my tracks when I see that Caden is there already, stirring some mush in a bowl on his tray. It must be breakfast time. I take a seat across from him, and his head jerks up. A joyous smile crosses his face, but falters a second later.

          “Are… are you okay?” he asks, a shadow clouding his eyes.

          I shrug, motioning around me, pointing out the fact that I don’t have my pen or pad of paper. He doesn’t seem to get it at first, but then he understands when I make writing motions on my palm.

          “Oh yeah, um… you kind of dropped that somewhere and I’m afraid a janitor might’ve thrown it away. I’ll tell Becca to get you a new one.” He trails off a little bit, and we just sit in silence, accompanied by the sound of spoons scraping against bowls, and soft whispered conversations.

          I guess that means he’s still going to be coming to my sessions. I’m honestly not sure how I feel about that, after what happened this time. I think he might be moving too fast with my recovery… I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this. Although, I doubt I even have a say, because well… I don’t have a voice. I’m just a patient who ‘doesn’t know what’s best for her’. Caden is going to be released soon anyways, I just know it.

          I’ve got to admit that I’m not looking forward to that day either. It’s going to hurt, I already know that. And… I might relapse in my recovery, but that isn’t something he needs to know about.

          When breakfast is over, he gets up and looks at me expectantly. “You have a session today. Becca told me to tell you that whenever you woke up.” I roll my eyes. No rest for the wicked, it seems.

***

I hope you liked it!

My birthday is Tuesday guys.

-      Lexi