The Diary of Existing

SIXTY TWO

SIXTY TWO

Another week went by just like that, and like my stay in Queen Mary I found a routine here. It was different from my routine when I was here prior. The one now has changed, more exclusive to the fact that isolation was not part of my routine. That my social interaction with anyone, even the girls in this place was less than minimal, possibly negative at best.

Dr. Arbour continued her attempts and try to crack me like a puzzle, but I had refused to participate in whatever little puzzle game she had about me. I resulted into just constantly writing on my notebook, but rather than sentences I just had words to describe how I felt, what I was thinking. Sentences were impossible for me to form at this point.

All I had were words...

Pain

Deception

Disaster

Confusion

Just words. These were all I had and were able to process out.

I had never pictured my final resting place to be this shit hole. I spent my days laying in bed, staring at the ceiling that needed some obvious repainting. There were splotches or wet spots on the top, possibly from the plumbing incident that had happened when I first came here.

The floor above was one of the abandoned nurses' shower room. It was meant to be demolished and fixed so that the nurses could use it again. But instead a bunch of girls, including Julia and Sarah, decided to flush all the toilets, open all faucets and showers and flood the bathroom. It flooded the entire floor because no one knew that any of them had even gotten in, and everyone in isolation at the time began screaming.

Some of childish joy, some of confusion.

But one of the rooms next to mine had the ceiling cave in and nearly crush one of the girls. The repercussions on the girls was heavy, but not as heavy as the one Sarah had received. It wasn't her idea, but because she was known for just being the ringleader of everything that went wrong, she got the short end of the stick.

"Alex, you have a visitor." Nurse Trixie opened my door, a smile beaming from her face. As much as I appreciated her gullible yet cheerful side, I treated her the same way I would nurse Gwyneth or anyone that worked at the institution.

And so I just stared at her while she waited by the door, flashing a large smile that, on closer inspection, one could notice how her lips were twitching from being tired of smiling all day. Behind her was one of the orderlies, waiting for me. When he appeared, that was my cue to follow.

I got up slowly, and miserably, slipping on my shoes before exiting with her. The orderly held my arm, and I could see nurse Trixie's facial expression changed. She never liked it when the girls looked as if they were being manhandled. She found it uncomfortable. For someone as innocent as her, it was a miracle that she could find this place the least bit bearable.

"Let's go. Don't want your guest to wait any longer." Nurse Trixie brushed off the uncomfortable situation she was feeling and proceeded to walk with me, ignoring how I was being manhandled by the orderly.

The walk there I kept wondering what my mother wanted. I could have sworn that the last time we were here, when she placed her hand on my cheek, that it was some sort of permanent goodbye. But she seemed to have returned, for reasons I don't know. I never bothered to ask Dr. Arbour about her sessions with my mother, or if she was still having them.

When we arrived at the waiting room, I was shocked to see who was sitting on the chair. The room was empty, and it wasn't that hard to miss who was sitting there.