The Hospital Room (Cashley & Jindy)

Chapter 2

~Jinxx’s POV~

I woke and I heard CC and Ashley talking to each other, I wish I could talk. I wish they could understand sign language. I can’t communicate with anyone properly.

Andy understood me though, and he helped me when I worked myself up into a panic attack. I’m not good at acting, I can’t hide my feelings well.

I stayed still, lying in my bed. I opened my eyes but I didn’t move apart from breathing and blinking. I just listened to everyone else talking to each other when they woke up.

Andy’s face was gorgeous, his eyes were stunning, despite the fact that his cheekbones were too prominent. He’s anorexic; it’s obvious with how skinny he is.

Jake’s depressed, I saw the bandages on his arms. I saw the scars on his legs last night when he went to the bathroom in the middle of the night. He’s so broken…

CC, he’s schiz. I saw his clipboard yesterday when everyone was asleep. He’s dangerously schizophrenic though, sometimes he has fits of hallucinations. He’s very distant although he jokes around a lot, he looks so far off and his gaze keeps moving as if there’s something on the other side of the room.

Ashley is bipolar, and very dangerously so. He has fits of personality changes in a way, and his mood changes dangerously quick. It can be set off by nothing and everything.

Me? I’m mute, depressed, anorexic in a way. I’m a mess, a complete mess. My heart is shattered, I’m no longer myself. I’ve been on too many pills for too long, my personality is made up of anti-depressants and happy pills.

The pills are a routine; there are 10 different pills I have to take a day. Oh dear god, I hate it.

“Morning boys.” The doctor called.

I sat up slowly when he walked into the room. Watching him carefully, I didn’t like him.

“There are menus for you to choose your breakfast from, they are on the side table’s beside your beds.” He told us.

CC, Ashley and Jake all picked up the menu but Andy and I didn’t move. We didn’t want breakfast.

“And you have to choose something, and you have to eat it.” The doctor continued, “I’ll be back in 10 minutes and you better have something that you want me to get for you.” He left after that.

I sighed and lay back, I hate eating, and it hurts. I don’t want breakfast. Andy doesn’t want breakfast either, he’s anorexic.

I don’t understand why the doctors are so harsh. We have problems, can they not be a little sympathetic towards us? I doubt that they’ve ever experienced the constant oppressing need to be perfect.

Perfect, what does it mean to be perfect? For a girl, perfect hair, eye colour, skinny but with a big ass and boobs. That’s ridiculous.  For a guy, you have to be strong and have a six pack. That’s the constant pressing idea for guys, also the fact that you have to look ‘sexy’.

And you’re all expected to be smart. But school doesn’t test your intelligence. It tests your memory, your ability to memorize pages and pages of notes. I’ll never understand why this is though, it just doesn’t make sense.

But I do understand why some people destroy themselves over the fact that they’re not perfect. I’m one of those people, I guess it’s like a fear of not being perfect and then in a blind panic we destroy our bodies to the point where we can’t go on like that anymore. To the point where some of us end our lives.

Oh how I wish I could have done that before I came in here, there were so many opportunities. I could have been gone, I could have been happy. But here I am, stuck in a hospital to recover because my parents couldn’t handle the fact that I was suffering because of discrimination.