A/N: I've decided to pick up this novel again and keep working on it. Thanks for reading!
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“Blood sugar is low, her pulse is weak, and her CT scans are showing some minor head trauma. The scope we put down her throat results came in a few minutes ago. They’re indicating that her throat is swelling an immense amount, and she’s showing early signs of necrosis. If something isn’t done soon, she’ll die. I’m sorry.”
Quiet voices murmur around me. I open my eyes to a bright white light. I don’t know where I am – the walls are pale green, metal bars are rising above me and someone in a white coat is standing over me.
“Where…” I croak. My throat is burning.
“Sweetie… you’re in the hospital. You passed out in the bathroom so we brought you here.” My mom says calmly. I don’t know how she can stay calm in this situation. If I were her, I’d be hysterical.
“You are going to have to stay here for a few days… after that, we’ll have to admit you to the psychiatric ward.” The woman that spoke first is clutching a clipboard to her chest.
“Psychiatric… but that’s the mental ward!” I protest. They can’t strap me into a strait-jacket.
“Isabelle… in order to get better, you need professional help.” The doctor tells me.
“But what about school? My friends… they’ll think I’m insane – they’ll never talk to me!” I screech.
“Honey… you want to get better, don’t you?” Mom frowns at me, her chest heaves. It looks like she’s going to cry.
“I guess so…” I shrug. I don’t know.
“Isabelle…” She sighs disapprovingly. I swallow hard and bite my lip, praying that the tears don’t fall.
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A frowning nurse leads me down a long, white corridor. She eyes me carefully, almost like she thinks that the handcuffs won’t hold me back.
She stops suddenly at a door. It has black numbering on it and a plastic holder on it. A booklet is stuck in the holder. My name is written on the cover in blunt typewriting.
The nurse guides me into the room. I abruptly stop in the doorway and my jaw drops.
Stark, white walls glare back at me. A large window takes up a wall, a tiny metal bed sits in the middle of the room, a desk sits in the corner and a unhinged closet is next to the door.
The nurse turns on her heels and leaves, to probably get my things. Shell shocked, I shuffle towards the bed. The handcuffs are digging into my wrists.
I sit on the cold mattress. Fear courses through me.
Welcome to hell…
I'm happy this is up. Keep writing!