How Are You True?

Chapter 23: Doing Too Much

April 26th, 2032
Wednesday, 10:30am - Barruecco Behavioural Health Hospital

Hugging her knees to her chest while staring blankly at the hideous shade of yellow the tiny room wall was painted, saying absolutely nothing and merely grunting when a nurse came to check up on her was Sabrina's day-to-day routine now. She'd seldom blink or open her mouth even as her jaw felt stiff or ached. And every now and then her eyes would burn with tears that came from deep seeded pain rather than her refusal to shut her eyes. Her bags were worse, her long brown hair lifeless the way she so badly wanted to be, her bones hurting from being in one position for too long. Sabrina was so sick, the nurses understood her inability to leave the room and (surprisingly) didn't pester her to join the others in the day room or activities. In fact, the only time she left the room was to be forced to eat something and take newly prescribed medication.

She's been here for five days. Five days and...well, she gave up on counting the minutes and seconds after her third night. In her mind, giving up on time deserved time granting her the courtesy of giving up on her; she was allowed that kind of karma. Nothing mattered anymore. Everything only mattered when she was pretending in order to help those around her who love her not to feel so helpless the way she did. Sabrina figured they didn't deserve that.

"You didn't try hard enough. If you really wanted it, you would've gotten it and you know that. So why'd you stop? What's keeping you here? You can feel everyone getting annoyed with the endless tragedies you plague their lives with. You're nothing but tragic. They're tired of you. They're sick of you. You could've granted them peace by giving them ONE last tragedy to deal with rather than sticking around, knowing full well there will be more. But wait...what does it even matter? Silly girl. Why are you assuming they'll have to put up with more? Everyone will abandon you before that happens. Good riddance. And you can't blame them."

Sabrina drew in a deep breath through her nose and emitted a mouse-like whimper before sniffling. She shook her head at the voice persistent in bullying her and slowly began to rock back and forth, screwing her eyes shut.

"If you weren't like this...if you weren't so needy, so available, so loving, so volatile, so sad, so god damn fucking sad, so unpredictable, so sexual—ugh you're so disgusting, if you weren't so sick then maybe everyone would stay. This person you are? It's no wonder Danielle left you. She would've stayed if you were someone else—"

"I am someone else," she muttered weakly. A tear drop spilled onto her thigh, followed by another one rushing to get out. "I am. I can be someone else."

"It's pointless. Everyone leaves. Everyone will always leave. You're disgusting. The only time you aren't repulsive is when you let someone—anyone fuck you. Because they don't know the real you even as they're inside you. It's safer this way. They forget and so do you. Why do you think they're gone the second it's over? They remember you're repulsive, unworthy, a tragedy, they want no part of you in their life. You can't be someone else. This is who you will be for the rest of your life."

"I am a school teacher. I was a school teacher. I can still be an influencer and youtuber. I can model. I can...I can be..." Sabrina thought out loud and opened her eyes. Her eyebrows scrunched together as she over-analysed those titles. Was she a school teacher because it required people paying attention to her? Listening? Admiring her brilliance? Obedience? An influencer/youtuber for the love and because people genuinely found her interesting? A model because she was desirable and had the excuse to not eat since she was always so sad? None of it made her feel good if those were the only reasons.

"No. No, no, no, I can be something else. I can change. I can do anything, I'm gonna be different now. I won't have to be me anymore, I can be new and everyone will really love me this time," Sabrina rambled on, springing off of the bed to pace around as if she were wound up like a toy and unable to stop until time was up. She continued battling the voice inside her head, unsure of who the real enemy was: herself or the voice. "You're not trying to help me. You're in my way, I'm not in my way. I shouldn't trust you," she grabbed at her neck, massaging the tension on its sides. "Just because I can't trust myself doesn't mean I can trust you. Regardless of if I did trust you or didn't, I would still be suffering."