Cameron x Nash Short Stories - cash -

So Much For My Happy Ending Part One

Nash POV

I'm so angry, I'm pissed. I can't believe my parents forced me into this hell hole. I'm not crazy, well maybe I am but I definitely don't belong here. I'm locked in and I can't get out, not until the doctors deem me 'safe' to go home.

All I did was get out of moving car when we driving across a fairly high bridge. Well, maybe I might have tried to get over the railing and jump. My dad caught me in time and carried my struggling body back to the car. This time he engaged the child locks and I was trapped, with no way out.

They drove me right to Belmont where my psychiatrist is located and signed me into the adolescent ward. I fucking hated it right away. All the doors are locked and only the employees have the key cards that unlock them. They have this old ass TV that barely gets any channels. They took my phone and my laptop and gave them to my parents, I have no link to the outside world.

I might have been lying to my parents that I was taking my medications, I would pretend to take them and I'd pocket them under my tongue and spit them right the fuck out when they weren't looking.

I supposedly have Borderline Personality Disorder, I say supposedly because I know that there's nothing wrong with me, I'm just a little crazy. Well by a little I mean a lot but I hate the anti-psychotics that they were giving me, it made me eat all the time and it made me feel numb. So I stopped taking them. My parents had no clue.

We were actually driving to a support group for teenagers with 'mental health issues', I didn't particularly want to go. I don't know how it happened but all of a sudden I had the overwhelming urge to jump off the bridge so that's what I did. Well that's what I tried to do but my father stopped me in time.

I kind of wish I had succeeded, then I wouldn't be stuck in this fucking place with it's brightly painted walls and stupid group sessions. I don't want to draw, I won't want to reflect on my feelings, I sure as hell don't want to take those fucking pills. I'm currently rebelling. I refuse to eat or drink anything, I'm sure it doesn't help my case at all but I don't fucking care. This place is a fucking shithole and I wish I could light the entire place on fire.

I lie on the couch fantasizing different ways that I could destroy this place and the stupid nurses who make me take the stupid drugs that make me feel like a fucking sheep. Those bitches check under my tongue to makes sure I swallowed the pills. It's so fucking stupid.

"Nash? Do you want to join us for the art class this afternoon?" An overly cheery voice asks me. She's a recreational therapist, don't ask me how that's even a career path because I have no fucking idea either. All she does is pass out drawing supplies and tells us to draw our feelings. It's the lamest thing ever.

I miss my phone. I also miss my best friend Matthew. He's the only person who understands me. He might be a little crazy too, well a lot of crazy but that's okay because that's why we get along so well. I never answered that recreational therapist, I guess she took my silence as a no. Which it was anyway.

I sigh as I sit up and look around the room I'm in. There are board games stacked neatly in the corner, I briefly contemplate tearing all of them apart but really that won't accomplish anything. Except maybe being put in the isolation room, which is a cruel and unusual punishment. I really don't understand how it's legal to isolate someone so completely with nothing to entertain their brain. Only their thoughts. Honestly it made me feel worse about myself. I just thought about how much of a fuck up I am.

I did calm down though, they let me out after 23 hours. The numb feeling has returned and I'm desperate to find a way to make myself feel something again. This afternoon there's a cooking class, I might attend that if I feel like it.