It Begins In A Hospital

Chapter 5

Avery POV

After about ten minutes of napping, Ethan was perched at the end on the bed, poking my legs repeatedly.

“Not again! What?” I sigh slightly, now very wide awake from my nap.

“We have class now. We have math together,” He says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Ew, no. Can we not?” I sigh again, getting out of bed.

“Nope. Sorry Ave,” He says.

“I thought you didn’t have any school classes on an on day. I remember you telling me you have music and art classes, two counseling sessions, and a study period. Right?”

“Oh, I do. Well, we have nine periods a day. I’ve already had a counseling session, a free period, and a class, which you missed. We had English, nothing important. Oh, and you’ll have a different doctor than I do, so we both have regular therapy- like sessions at the same time, as well. Now we have math, then lunch in our room, and then we actually both have art, then music, then group, then study. Oh, but your art and music classes are different. You have photography, and vocals, and I have drawing and a guitar lesson,” Ethan explains.

“How do they know I like photography? And I can’t sing,” I say.

“They talked to your mom, and picked a schedule based on that,” He shrugs, again.

I nod and sigh, and follow him out the door and down the hall towards a classroom like room, and I slid into a desk next to him. A teacher walks through the door, and Ethan leans over to me.

“Thats Mr. Bishop. He’s pretty cool. He’ll make anything easy to understand, and help you get through math, making seem like the easiest thing in the world,” He says.

“Ah, we have a new student,” Mr. Bishop says, looking at me, “Who do we have here?”

“Avery,” I say quietly.

“Just Avery?” Mr. Bishop says, and I look at him, confused.

“Name, age, and diagnosis,” Ethan whispers.

“Oh, uhm, Avery, 16, no diagnosis yet,” I say quietly.

“Hello Avery With No Diagnosis Yes. Reason for admittance?” The teacher says, never looking up from the papers he was shuffling around on his desk.

“Attempted suicide,” I whisper. The other couple of students in the class turned around and looked at me, and I realized then that not all of them were suicide watch patients like Ethan and I. They had other mental issues, obviously, because this wasn’t a suicide ward, it was a psych ward. I lower my head, and they turn away.

“Well, Avery With No Diagnosis Yet, we’re all glad you’re here. Welcome to my class,” He says, and with that, I’m launched into the class. I pick up some of the other students names, and diagnosis’, because that’s apparently how they were addressed. There was Schizophrenic Sarah, Multiple Personalities David, and even my roommate and newfound friend, Depressed Ethan. I was in shock, to say the least. Finally, the class was dismissed, and Ethan and I walked back to our room for lunch. On the table are two plates of food, one chicken sandwich and sides, and one salad with sides. Ethan takes the sandwich, and I note that the hospital is already aware that I’m a vegetarian. I sit at the table, across from Ethan and I stab a piece of lettuce. After eating a few bites of salad, I push my tray away and drink my bottle of water, and then I get up to throw my remaining food away. The nurse who had been standing in the corner stops me before I get to the door.

“Sorry miss, but you’re under strict orders to finish all of your food,” She says.

“What?” I ask, confused.

“You’re not allowed to leave this room until your tray is clear.” She says firmly.

I look over at Ethan, and he sips on his water, shrugging and giving me a look that reads, I have no idea.

“And who decided this?” I ask. By now, I’m slightly annoyed.

“Dr. Ryan, the emergency room doctor who attended to you when you were admitted,” The nurse answers.

“Why?” I question.

“I don’t know,” The nurse replies.

I slam my tray down onto the table and I turn quickly and storm out of the room and down the hall to the front desk, the nurse yelling after me.

“I want to speak to Dr. Ryan, in the emergency room, now.” I say.

“Miss, I’m afraid we can’t-” The secretary begins.

“No, you can, and you will, or I’ll go find him myself, and you don’t want a rogue suicide watch patient running around the hospital, do you?” I snarl.

“I’ll call, thats all I can do,” The secretary says as she picks up the phone.

“Hi Janice, I have a patient here who would like to speak to Dr. Ryan, is he available for a few minutes?” She says into the receiver, “Mhm. Okay. We’ll be right up.”

The secretary tells me to wait for a moment, and I do, under the watchful eye of another secretary. A nurse returns a moment later, with a wheelchair. I turn around, arms crossed. The nurse motions for me to sit.

“Why?” I ask.

“You’re not allowed to leave here unless you’re in a chair. Can’t have you running around,” She answers, a smug grin on her lips.

I sigh, and get into the chair, and I allow her to push me into the elevator. After a silent ride down, the elevator dings, and I’m wheeled into the emergency wing, where a male doctor stands, arms crossed, a slight smirk on his face. The nurse pushes me up to him, and I rise from the chair, despite her protests, and I cross my arms and look him dead in the eye.

“Dr. Ryan?” He nods, “Why am I under strict orders to finish all my food?”

“You’re too thin. You’re underweight,” He says simply.

“Am not. I’ll have you know, I’ve struggled with my weight for years. I just overcame an eating disorder about a year ago. This has been my average weight for a year now,” I say.

“Well, I’m sorry. I think you’re too underweight,” He shrugs.

“Well, I’m not eating it if I don’t want to,” I snap.

“Okay-y,” Dr. Ryan says, and I sit myself back in the wheelchair.

The doctor whispers something into the nurses ear, and she nods, and turns and takes me back upstairs. Once we hit the psychiatric floor, I jump up and race down the hallway to my room. Ethan is still there, sitting at the table, waiting for me.

“What time is lunch over?” I ask, sitting in my bed.

“Few minutes. What happened with Dr. Ryan?” He replies.

“Nothing. I told him off. He told me I was too underweight. This is the heaviest I’ve been in a while, and it took me a long time to get to here. I only conquered my eating disorder a year ago,” I say.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” He starts.

“Don’t,” I snap, “Don’t feel sorry for me.”

“Fine. Then don’t be a bitch,” Ethan retorts, and my head snaps up, my gaze locked on him, my eyes burning into his skull.

“What. Did you. Just say?” I ask, fuming.

The look of fear that crosses his face is one I’ll never forget.

Oh shit! Ethan's in trouble now! Thanks for reading, please leave some comments, I need some feedack! Let me know when you'd like this updated, and if you see any typos, lemme know as well! Thanks! (: