the way he is with me (scream 1996)

i. Four walls and a roof

The place was huge. It was dark and gloomy outside, there was a huge black gate around it surrounding the whole place, it looked like a castle from the eighty's, they escorted me into the building, I held my backpack on my back, it was filled with clothes, books, and a pocket knife. My mother died a month ago, leaving me halfway across the country with my abusive dad. I was never close to my mom, instead of bedtime stories I got bloody needles and a neglecting mother. So it didn't bother me much when they found her dead in a alleyway. But word got out after her death, everyone would look at me with eyes full of pity and mouths full of "I'm Sorry's" like I was a wounded animal.

The inside of the ward was cool though, it reminded me of the book Dracula for some reason, the walls were dark, there were long pink candles with wax on the bottom of the plate, a red carpet down the hall like I was a model or something, it reminded me of the adams family, I've never seen a psych ward this colorful, it barley had color but most of them are just white walls and tiled floor. The airs fingers nipped at my straight suborn hair. The crisp of the air nipped at my uncovered shoulders, my black tank top effortlessly grounded my stomach, my baggy grey cargo pants surrounded my thin thighs. I was escorted into my room, I looked around the big room cautiously and confused. My bed was in the middle of the room, it was a queen sized bed with black sheets and a dark red, I put my bag down and glared at the closet, it was brown. I sat my bag down in front of my bed and opened it, I pulled out some shirts and hung them up, there were only a few hangers, I put two pants on one hanger, taking up three hangers, I put two shirts on one hanger, taking up three hangers, there was only one hanger left.

I closed the closet door and crossed my legs, I sat on the bed with my hands in my lap, I kicked off my shoes and lifelessly stared at the wall, my eyes felt heavy and the corner of my lips were to the floor. I was in here because I tried to kill myself, I mean you could tell because of the bandages on my wrist.

I mean why did my dad even care to save me? He never had time for me anyways, he was always drinking and was out at the bar, bringing home random females while his daughter was upstairs watching the lines on her wrist turn red. There was a knock on my door, "come in." My voice was brittle, a brunette entered my room, she handed me a piece of paper. "There is your schedule for tomorrow." She told me, holding her hands together.

8:00 am: wake up
8:30-8:50 am: breakfast
9:00-9:30 am: group
11:30-11:50 am: lunch
5:00-5:20 pm: dinner

"W-What's group?" I asked, my finger was on the word. I hoped to God that it wasn't something where I had to sit in a circle of people and talk about my emotions. "Well, everyone sits in a circle and talks about their emotions." The lady clicked her tongue. I pushed my lips back into a thin line. "Why? Are we going to have a sing along?" Great, that's great. "Dr. Katzrupaz will be seeing you tomorrow." She smiled before stepping out of my room. Cats-rue-puss is how his name is pronounced, but what kind of name is Katzrupaz? I took the paper and ripped it.

• • •

  Group wasn't needed, I don't have to sit in a circle of people and talk about my feelings. What good does it help? What good does a therapist help? They don't comfort me. I talk about my feelings, they stare at me and write things down and then I give them money. Hell, they probably laugh about it to their friends. Maturing is realizing that nobody cares about your feelings, nobody cares about how you feel. So you have to fake it, you have to not care and everyone will suddenly like you again.

"Everyone go around and say your name." Dr. Katzrupaz spoke.

My eyes shifted to the first girl in the circle, she had on a bright pink floral designed shirt and jeans. "My name is Clhoe, I am 18." The blonde spoke.

"Why are you in here Clhoe?" Katzrupaz asked. Her eyes went crazy.

"In September, I set my moms boyfriend on fire and ran away, once the cops caught me, I got sent here." She spoke like a mad-woman.

Suddenly, the room grew foggy. Actually, i just kinda settled into the vanilla scented room. White noise filled my ears, have you every shifted outside of your body, like you could see yourself, for just a split second? Suddenly the airplane noises stopped and it was my turn. "I'm Taylor, I'm 19." I said plainly with narrow eyes. Katzrupaz tilted his head. "What are you in for?" He asked. I scoffed at him, look at my wrists asshat. "Isn't it obvious? I tried to kill myself. I could've gotten away with it too if everyone didn't try to stick their nose into it." I said sarcastically, the boy beside me chuckled. I turned my head at him quickly, "what? What's your problem?" I hissed at him quietly.

  Katzrupaz spoke. "Meet me in room 214." He said plainly, his eyes shifted to the boy beside me. "And you?"

    "My names Billy, im 19." He spoke softly, he leaned forward and glared at Katzrupaz. "And Im a psychopath." He spoke, I glared at my feet, Katzrupaz didn't look pleased, obviously, but he just scribbled in his notepad.

  Soon enough group was over and I was in Katzrupaz's office. I sat in the chair across from him. He took off his glasses, I don't know if I was in trouble or if I was here to talk about why I tried to kill myself. "Tell me something." He told me, I clicked my tongue before speaking. "When astronauts come back to earth after floating around in space they get sick to their stomachs because the air here smells like rotting meat to them." I told him. He glared at me and blinked.

  "I meant tell me why you tried to commit suicide." He said. I shook my head no. "Why should i?" I scoffed at him.

  "You're going to be here for a year, Taylor. You're going to have to open up to me sometime." He said. I shook my head no again. "Why though?" I asked. "It's not like it's going to get me out of here, it's not like it's going to take back what I did. Talking to you isn't going to give me what I didn't have, so I don't know what I'm doing here."

  "I want to help you," he spoke softly, I tilted my head at him with narrowed my eyes, my lips curled up into a grin. I slowly leaned forward. "You couldn't give a shit less about me," I whispered. His blue eyes blazed with patience and consideration.

  I leaned back in my seat and sighed. "Something's bothering you." He spoke in a really calm and casual way, as if he was telling you what he had for dinner. For some reason that really bugged me. "Something might be bothering me," I repeated, "but I don't wanna tell you." Katzrupaz had a weird look on his face, but he didn't say anything, I just kept staring at him. "I need to ask you a few questions." He said, "can I ask you a question?" I interrupted him, he glared at me. "What?" He asked.

   "Are you a real doctor?" I asked him.

   "I'm a psychiatrist." He answered.

  "So you're not a real doctor."

  "A psychiatrist is a real doctor." He said. "A psychologist isn't."

  "Where did you go to school?" I asked. "A real college or one of those schools in the Caribbean?" I heard when you go to a college in the Caribbean, all you have to do is sit on the sand and drink fruity drinks and they give you a diploma. "I went to school in Canada," he said. "I'm sorry Doc, but I'm just not comfortable with your credentials. I think I need a second opinion." I shook my head in disappointment.