Flyleaf

11

I felt lost and out of my element, I think because I knew this wasn't going to end well or even go well. Like they say its not the destination it's the journey and I'm sure it is going to either be the journey that kills me or my stunning attitude.

“Alice” The nurse nudged me forward into a tiny office.

I felt the egg shells crack under my bare feet as I carefully entered the office I was shoved into. At first glance it looked a lot like Davis's office, with the same psychiatry theme to it. A few certificates on the wall to certify that he's legally allowed to fuck with you. There was an Uninteresting desk with papers and useless ornaments stacked on top in the middle of the room and a gorgeous middle aged man sitting behind it, that distract me from the hand tremors I had the entire day.

“You got a haircut, I see” I announced.

“How good of you to notice, I'm surprised” he acknowledged, without looking up from his desk.

I wandered over to his tiny shelf full of books, most of them were psychiatry related but one caught my eye. It was red with the name on it “James Joyce, Finnegan's Wake”. I looked around and saw him still firmly planted where he was 5 seconds ago, I then took the book from the shelf and noticed the strange cover art. I then decided to steal it so I and pulled up my dress to hide it underneath but a hand on my arm stopped me mid action. I nearly shat myself surprised how a man as tall as him, he can ghost so well.

“You could have just asked, you know.” he snarled, snatching the book from my hand and placed it back where it belonged.

“Sure, But wheres the fun in that.” I complained.

“You aren't helping your own case here, you know that right ?” He asked as he returned to his desk. He rubbed his temples and looked for something specific, shoveling around papers. After a few moments he had what he was looking for and it had my name on it.

“What's the point, that certificate on the wall gives you the right to make my case whatever you want it to be.” I uttered while walking over to his desk. He froze immediately with what he was doing and looked at me with his eyes all narrowed down.

“That's a bit unfair, don't you think ?”

I ignored what he said and took a seat, scanning him to figure out if he has a soul or not. In my experience psychiatry is bullshit, and every time I've trusted a psychiatrist I've gotten seriously fucked over. With great power comes great responsibility but if you have to power to deem a person clinically insane without any restriction, after a while you forget the responsibility and use it for their own misguided fortune.

He sighed still looking at me with an intense gaze, it was almost like he knew I was slandering phyciatry in my mind. I held his gaze without flinching even once. He flipped over the first page of the stack that had my name on it, and dragged his eyes away from me back to the papers.

“I'm going to go over your physical exam you had yesterday.” he stated.

I gave him no response and decided I wouldn't again, not even if he was on the brink of throwing a fit. I'm as stubborn as a mule and he would soon figure this out.

“You were Involuntarily admitted requested by the government and relatives in response to apparent self-destructive behavior cycle and physical assault of previous-” He stopped reading aloud and looked at me with a troubled expression.

“Alice, talk to me what went wrong that ended you up in a situation like that?”

Silence.

“Alright,” He continued. “Self-harm evident in physical exam: signs of past abrasions on head and neck, apparently due to self-inflicted scratching, and both fresh and partially-deep lacerations on arms and legs. Signs of extreme fatigue also evident - in examination patient admitted insomnia for, as quoted, “longer than you'd believe."; Patient unable to give exact time for length of insomnia, likely due to extended period of insomnia itself. Confusion and moderate delirium evident.”

I felt exposed and vulnerable after being layed out on paper in such cold words. I averted my gaze and focused on the carpet. It was brown, I was so distracted I didn't even notice this room had actual colour in it.

“You've been given Triazolam for insomnia and Bacitracin for wound care, as well as Lithium carbonate for mood control.”

No reply, just more silence.

“Have you had any side effects, stomach pain, swollen ankles, hand tremo-” He stopped halfway through when I gave a reaction on the last one he named and the fact that I quickly looked away ashamed just verified his suspicion.. I looked around for something to keep my eyes occupied while I tried to zone out and ended up on his name tag,“Kevin McCalman.”

“Alice...” He pleaded. “Alright, you may go then.”

I stood up and left, not really knowing the routine yet I just stammered down the hall feeling defeated and deflated. I walked around for what seemed like an hour before I got asked who am I and where am I supposed to be. The stroll did me the world of good although it would have been nice to have felt the wind on my face and breathe a lung full of fresh oxygen rather then the foul stench of body odor and death. I found out that Rutland had a tiny church and that the nurses actually had their own wing.

I slept like a baby that night, guess my insomnia was cured. Dr McCalman obviously did something right. It was either that or the tranquilizers, take your pic.