"Have you ever thought about hurting yourself or others?" a lady with a clipboard in an office with beige walls asked me. I swear the room was probably created to torture people; it gave me the worst vibes possible. I almost wanted to run out of the room at that moment. I'd run into the nearest woods and live there Unabomber style; the morons would never find me. I'd survive on tree roots, berries, and squirrels. Every once in a while, I'd check out how society was doing, but I'd always return before they got suspicious of me. I'm a bloody genius.
Is this a standard question...?
"I've thought about hurting myself but not others," I said, fidgeting with my right leg. I've never been diagnosed, but I firmly believe that I have restless leg syndrome. I've had moments at the dinner table where it was virtually impossible for me not to twitch my legs. Oh, and I lied when I said I never thought about hurting someone; I actually think about it all the time. Don't worry; most of the time, they deserve it. If I ever had a fight song, it would be something hype like Bawitdaba by Kid Rock. I could take out an army if that song played; I mean it.
"I understand. Have you ever been diagnosed with bipolar disorder or depression?"
"No, they have not diagnosed me with anything. I'm here because I went manic," I said, trying to stop my leg from shaking at a hundred miles an hour.
"Mhhm. Is there anyone you would like me to contact if you get restrained? You don't have to add anyone; this is just a question that they ask everyone."
"No, I'll behave well," I said with a tiny smile.
"Good. Do you know what it means to be AWOL?"
What's an AWOL supposed to be?
"No, I have no idea what that is," I replied, furrowing my eyebrows in confusion. It sounded like some sort of military slang, by the name. My favorite military slang would have to be FUBAR, which describes my everyday life.
"AWOL means Absent Without Leave; if someone leaves before they are to be discharged, they are considered to have left without permission. Will you attempt to escape while you are here?" she asked, looking right at me.
It'll be tempting, I'll admit...
"No, I'll wait for my discharge before leaving. I promise."
"Good, our last question for you is, do you want to create a visitor list for people that may visit you? The only requirement is that they have to be over eighteen," she said, giving me the contact paper.
"Sure, I'll put my dad and mom there. Their number is ████████████ and ████████████. Do you have that?" I asked, finally getting my leg under control.
"Yes, it's snack time right now, so enjoy the food. Stay safe, Clive," she said with a genuine smile.
"You too," I said as I finally went inside the youth wing.
Make the best of this, Clive. It only gets worse from here.
YOU ARE READING
The October Amaryllis
Science FictionClive Andrews is a typical 16-year-old boy who never had anything out of the ordinary happen until May 16th, 2020, when he was struck by several feet of ball lightning and nearly killed. After being discharged from the hospital, he realizes that he...
