Melancholy
Sitting in the cold lobby, the TV blasts a show I don't know. I wonder if Ann will take long, I've already been waiting for 10 minutes. My foot is continuously tapping the floor, a habit I picked up. I think about how I got here. What I am about to do has never been done in my family.
I knew what I was going to do. I was not scared. She walks out and calls my name; she is happy to see me. She stares at me, pity, I hate pity. The room feels stuffy, I feel like I'm suffocating in the stare. She holds onto her clipboard, always writing things, her grip tightening.
"I see...Thank you for telling me, I know this is hard." Ann, my therapist, my one escape from my reality, she has a soft voice.
"Can we do it anytime soon?" I asked, I did it, I asked, I'm proud.
"I'll have to check to see if they have any space available." She pulled out her phone and started dialing someone. 1, No room, 2, No room, 3, No room.
She was thinking, she pulled out a paper and wrote down some stuff. "You can go to the ER; they can't refuse you as you have those tendencies. I understand you won't do anything but just for your sake I don't want you to do something you'll regret."
She gives me another smile as I walk out of the room my parents frowning. I could see it in my mom's eyes, she was sad. I don't like my mom being sad.
It was silent on the way home, no music was playing on the radio, just silence. My father had a face I have never seen before, he looked confused, angry, sad, and miserable. I've always been close to my father, always talked, laughed together.
Entering the house through the garage, my sister was waiting. She noticed my mother and Fathers mood and asked what was going on. I didn't listen to their conversation, I just walked in and started packing my bag. My brother walked in, he seemed confused.
"You're going to the hospital?" I nodded; I didn't want him to hear my pain of leaving them. I love my family more than myself. They were my last reason to live.
I needed this, I didn't want to suffer anymore.
My brother walked out, in came my sister. "What did I tell you, why did you tell them?!" I frowned; she thinks I didn't want to go. I do, I need to go. My sister had a face I have never seen before, she rarely shows emotions, especially to me. "But what if its longer..." She sighed, walked out of the room and I didn't see her after that.
My mother was sad, I hope she didn't cry, the last time I saw her cry was when my sister wasn't eating. I eat mom, I eat a lot, it's a nice coping mechanism.
My bags were packed, I walked out the garage, got in the car and waited, my mother and father walked out with more bags. The weight of the car shifted as they got on. This time they played music, it was soft though, not loud like usual. I didn't like it.
Pulling up to the hospital felt like it took hours, my dad got lost and we had to ask someone for directions. I saw a person walking in with pizza boxes, another walked in with a toddler. I realized we were in the child's section. You could tell by the amount of Dr. Suess drawings on the wall. I remember seeing those when I came here to remove my tonsils. I still remember waking up and seeing my parents, sitting in front of me, holding hands.
We drove for hours that day.
We are at the entrance.
It was a strange day today; the front lady's thermometer didn't work but, she let us in anyways. It was like the world was trying to stop me from going in.
YOU ARE READING
Melancholy
Short StoryYou never know how hard someone is struggling until you reach it. Until you feel their rage of no one helping them. In this story, I talk about my journey about asking for help. This is only a short story.