Breakfast

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Vincent:

"Please, Vincent! Stop!"

"Shut up and take it!"

"Oh, God! Please!!"

"God can't help you. No one can help you!"

"I'll do anything, just please don't do this again!"

"You have to learn your lesson, Emily!"

"I hate you, Vincent! I HATE YOU!"

***

"Holy shit!"  I awakened with a terrible twitch, sweat erupting out of my head as I came out of yet another terrible nightmare involving Emily.  They were more frequent than my first couple of months in this God forsaken institution, which only served to prove that my treatments were not helping me.

The days here were all the same.  I often woke up to a nurse shoving a cup of pills and water in my face, then I was taken to the cafeteria for breakfast. 

After that, I had one hour of individual therapy with my psychiatrist, followed by an hour of extracurricular activities, then two hours of group therapy.  The repetition was driving me mad.

I preferred to stay in my room and watch TV, that way I could drown out the screams and maniacal laughter of the other patients. I couldn't stand to listen to them any longer than I had to. It was the most depressing thing anyone could ever endure.

But the worst part of being here was knowing that I had a beautiful baby girl out there, a daughter who would never feel the warm embrace of her father.

The thought haunted my every waking moment.

I wondered if that's why my nightmares were getting much more violent. There was underlying resentment inside of me towards Emily.

Even though I still loved her, I couldn't help but be angry with her. She was the reason I was stuck in this hell hole. If she would have only learned to love me back, we could have been so happy.

I turned on the television, flipping through the channels until I found an episode of The Golden Girls playing. My parents watched this show almost every night before they went to bed. It was the only time I ever heard them laughing together.  That's why it was so dear to me.

I watched it until my door opened.

Earl the orderly walked in, followed by the day shift nurse, a horrid woman by the name of Beverly. She was meaner than a hornet, and she was about as pleasant to look at as a clear bag of dog turds.

"Good morning, Vincent!" She sang, opening my curtains and letting the light blare in my face.

I shielded my eyes. "What's so good about it?"

"You're alive, aren't you? There are lots of folks who can't say the same thing."

"Well, no shit. The dead don't speak."

"I see you're in one of your unpleasant moods."

"Only because you're here, Beverly."

She smiled and took my pills and water off of the tray in Earl's hands.  "Nevermind the wise cracks, Vincent.  It's time for your medicine."

"You know damn well I don't need those pills."

Her voice became three octaves higher, and she tilted her head and spoke to me like I was a three year old.  "Oh, now we aren't we going to be a difficult patient this morning, are we?"

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