Chapter Six – Breathe [2 AM]
“Jenna… We would like to have a discussion with you and your mother.” Dr. Parks comes into my room, flanked by a team of specialists.
”You have reviewed her?” My mother asks with concern.
“Yes, Miss Maher. We have come to a decision.” Dr. Parks responds.
“What then?” I can’t stop myself from asking.
“We have decided to admit you into the psychiatric ward.”
I shudder. I know what the psychiatric ward does to you. The ‘specialists’ vacuum out your brain, tie you back together and weigh you down with colourful pills.
“Do you need my approval?” Mom interjects.
“No. We just need you to sign some paperwork.”
Mom nods and waits for me to say something. I can’t though. My lips are stitched together with barbed wire.
Dr. Parks puts a stack of paper on Mom’s lap and she digs a pen out of her purse. A specialist whispers something to Dr. Parks, who nods.
After Mom finishes the paperwork, Dr. Parks speaks. “If you don’t mind, Mrs. Maher… We feel that we should admit Jenna as soon as possible. She can stay here for tonight, but once the paperwork goes through, we will ensure to have a bed ready for her.”
“That’s fine.” Mom says. I can’t believe it. She’d just let me go.
“Thank you.” Dr. Parks takes the paperwork and she leaves the room.
“Honey, we are only doing this for your own benefit.” Mom tells me. I ignore her.
She inhales deeply. End of conversation.
I lock the door and sit on the edge of the bathtub. I turn on the tap and let the water fall – five gallons a minute – down the drain to make it look like I’m taking a bath.
I dig through the medicine cabinet and take out the pretty knife that I keep in it. The tendons in my arm tighten as I bring the knife closer to my wrist.
I hold my breath and cut.
Blood spills down into the tub. The water turns red; the same color as my favourite lip gloss.
Tears slip down my cheeks.
I make a few more incisions and turn off the water. It spills over the edge of the tub. I dunk my wrist in it and then blot it with a towel.
I pull the drain and walk out of the room. The drain gurgles behind the closed door.
“Jenna. Are you awake, sweetie?” I hear soft mumbling in my ear. I force my eyes open and see my mother leaning over my bed.
She checks her watch as I struggle to sit upright. “What do you want?”
“There is a room ready for you… in the psychiatric ward.” She informs me. She reaches underneath my bed and hauls out my suitcase. It’s already packed.
“So… do I just go there?” I ask.
“Well, I need to let a nurse know that you’re awake.” She looks towards the door.
She scurries out of the room and comes back with a nurse at her heels. The nurse is sweaty, with fat whale skin. If she leans over too far, it’ll rip.
The nurse nods towards me and carries my suitcase out the door. My mom and I follow her down long, winding hallways until she stops at a door. It has a label on it. ROOM 2 – PYSCHIATRIC UNIT.
The door is even declaring itself as a crazy house.
The nurse unlocks the door and slides it open. She tosses my suitcase into it, as if the stepping into the room will infect her.
I step into the threshold and my eyes boggle at my surroundings. Everything in the room is white, except for a small orange chair. The small, metal bed is covered in crisp sheets. There is a tiny bathroom in the corner and the windows are covered in thick plastic. A wooden side table sits next to the bed.
I sit on my bed and open the drawer of the table. It’s filled with pieces of paper, notes from people who have been here before me.
The notes range from [i]Surviving doesn’t seem worth it anymore and If you aren’t totally crazy by the time you get in here, you’ll be absolutely mental by the time you get out.[/i]Fear winds itself around my windpipe.
Maybe those notes are right. Maybe surviving isn’t worth it anymore….
