Sunnyside

Chapter One

The soft sound of a continuous, rhytmic beep slowly began to grow louder as I arose to consciousness. I dragged my eyes open and blinked a few times, finding a plain white ceiling. Where am I? I thought.
It all came rushing back to me; sitting on the bathroom floor, my trusty scalple blade in my hand. I remember pressing it hard against my skin and dragging it up my arm. I remember how deep the wound was. I remember the artery, squirting with blood. I remembered everything. It was too much. My breathing picked up, my stomach churned.
"You can't even kill yourself. You're a failure. A weak, pathetic failure." The far too familiar voice in my head spoke from within me.
"Shut up." I whispered.
"You can't take your own life. I am disappointed. Try harder next time. Cut your throat. Cut your throat! CUT YOUR THROAT!"
"Shut up!" I screamed, smacking my head repeatedly.
"Zac!" Someone I didn't recognize ran through the door in a long white coat, a doctor.
"Are you okay? I heard a scream." Concern was written all over his face.
"I'm fine," I lied "I um... I just didn't realize where I was and I panicked."
"You're a terrible liar." I heard the voice once again. The doctor nodded, accepting my story.
"I am Dr Osbourne. Zac, can you tell me why you are here?" He asked as if it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world.
"Uh, yeah I tried to.. Um I tried to kill myself." I spoke quietly, suddenly feeling shy.
"That is correct. Your mother found you and called an ambulance. She hasn't left your side once, until about 5 minutes ago when she went out for a cigarette. Now Zac, we have some good news and some bad news. The good news is that we were able to close the wound successfully. You have 9 internal stitches and 17 external. You hit the main artery in your arm. Because if the blood you had lost we had to preform a blood transfusion. We completed it about 3 hours ago. Now for the bad news, because of your previous history with having to come to the hospital for cutting too deep and now a suicide attempt, you will have to go to SPH. I'm very sorry." The doctor finally finished blabbering.
"Um, might I ask, what is SPH?" I questioned.
"Sunnyside Psychiatric Hospital."
I felt my face pale at his words. They can't send me there! I'm not crazy!
"Oh yes you are." The voice in my head spoke.
"Oh shut the fuck up." The doctor gave me a questioning look and I realized I had spoken that out loud.
"Uh, nothing Doctor, don't worry." At that moment, my mother walked into the room. She locked eyes with me and the tears began to roll down her face. She ran up and threw her arms around me, crying into my shoulder.
"What the hell were you thinking Zac!" She didn't sound angry, more shocked. I didn't answer her. The guilt ran through me too strong. We stayed like that for quiet a while.

My mother and I pulled up in the car to SPH. It was big, and look extremely intimidating.
"Here." My mum handed me two 50g pouches to rolling tobacco as well as rolling papers, filters and a lighter.
"I know you aren't allowed them in there but my suggestion is to take most of the tobacco out of one pouch and hide the rest and only keep a small amount in there at a time so if you get caught you can hand them that and still have plenty to smoke." My mum was a bit of a badass some times. I climbed out of the car and decided to have a smoke now.
"You know that I love you, right? Your my son. My own flesh and blood. I raised you from this tiny little ball of flab. You were the cutest wee baby Zaccy. I know growing up that things were never easy for us, with the money troubles and your father leaving us and all the rest. What I'm trying to say is, I love you so much. I'll always be here for you baby, whether you want me to or not." She was crying by the time she had finished. I felt her arms wrap around me and I hugged her back, tears rolling down my face too.

"Uh hi, um I'm Zac Froste." I said awkwardly to the woman at the reception. She tapped away on the computer. She looking about 60, years old, her hair was done in a Bob that reminded me of a woman in the 1940's and she was wearing far to much lipstick.
"Take the elevator to the 3rd floor and go to reception there." She didn't look up at me once. My mother and I went up the elevator and spoke to the reception.
"Come with me." The woman behind the main desk said. We followed her around until we came to a small room with a single bed, a separate bathroom and a sink on the side.
"Now you have a meeting with our therapist. He will call me over when you are done and you can set up your stuff then it will be dinner time. And you have to leave, sorry." She spoke the last part to my mother. She looked down, obviously sad.
"I undertsand." She spoke quietly. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her cheek.
"I love you. I'll call you as soon as you can." She returned the words turned around and left.
"Hello Zac, I am Dr Lloyd but you can just call me Lloyd. I'm one of the many therapists at the facility. You need to come with me." The doctors eyes were sharp and he looked like a very man.
"You see that? He hates you already. Everyone hates you. You're pathetic."