Chapter One

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(*^Matt Daniels)

MONDAY


I'd rather be anywhere but here. This car ride feels like an eternity too long. My mother hasn't spoken a word, but neither have I. There's nothing left for me to say now that she knows everything I tried so hard to keep from her. Although, you would think she'd have something to say since she's about to check her only son into a mental hospital. I think I'd rather hear her sob, scream, break something. The silence is deafening, leaving me to my thoughts, which never ends well. I don't even realize we've arrived until I hear her clear her throat from beside me.

"I'll get your bags."
Her voice is soft yet slightly hoarse.

She doesn't give me the chance to respond as she quickly exits the car and begins grabbing bags from the trunk.
I sigh and jog to catch up with her as she heads toward the large glass doors. She doesn't even blink when she enters, and heads straight to the woman at the front desk for assistance. I, however, can't help but be overwhelmed.

I've always hated hospitals, and this one is no exception. The walls are too white, too plain. They hold no life to them, then again, neither do I. That's what got me here in the first place.
The silence doesn't help ease my nerves either. It's just too quiet. The only noise able to be heard is the faint volume of the TV on the wall and the clicks of a computer keyboard every once in a while.

"Matthew Daniels?"
My attention is turned to an older man dressed in, of course, a long white coat.
I nod my head and he gives me a kind smile.

"I'm Doctor Olsen." He tells me as she shakes my hand.
"Come on, I'll show you to your room."

I nod again and begin following him down the long, narrow, hallway. I allow my eyes to wander, hoping to distract my mind from being so nervous.
I almost feel bad for looking into random peoples rooms but I don't have the time to feel so guilty as we're stopping and entering a small room at the end of the hallway.

I take a few steps in, looking over the plain walls and empty bed placed in the far corner of the room. I place my bags down onto the mattress and turn back around. Only then does it hit me that my mom isn't with the doctor anymore.

"Where'd my mom go?"
I have a feeling i already know the answer, but I need the confirmation anyway.

Like I knew he would, he gives me a sympathetic smile.
"She already left."

"Oh."
I'm not even surprised. Part of me wished she would've at least said goodbye but the other part of me is glad she's gone.

Doctor Olsen awkwardly clears his throat and shifts in his place by the door.
"I'll let you get settled in. There will be an announcement in about ten minutes for group therapy. Just follow everyone else. We'll be outside today."

I nod again and he takes that as his cue to leave. He leaves the door wide open and I have the urge to close it long enough for me to wallow in self pity for a while, but I don't and flop down on the bed instead.
The quiet and lonely feeling begins to sink back in. If I were home, I'd listen to music to try and drown it all out, but I don't even have that luxury anymore. Apparently, they checked my bags and took my phone when I walked in. I must have been too spaced out to notice.

I sit back up and notice my copy of 'For Whom The Bell Tolls' is peaking out from the top of my bag. My fingers run over the wrinkled pages and a small smile etches it's way into my face. As if on cue, my fingers stop on the frequently marked page. My eyes scan the page until I find the piece I'm searching for.

"The world is a fine place and worth fighting for and I hate very much to leave it."

That used to be my motto. It's what kept me going. The thought that life was worth the living or that things would actually get better over time, kept me from ending it all. But things just kept getting worse, and eventually the quote that I loved so much became a lie and it was erased from my brain.

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