It all started when I was nine years old. I was on the school bus from the private school I used to go to, and all of a sudden, the bus driver had a heart attack. We were on the highway, and the bus slid, bumping into a lot of cars.
The bus driver was fine after the crash, but one of the kids on bus 192 wasn't so lucky. There were about 20 kids on that bus, and one of them ended up getting killed. He wasn't in the same grade as me, so I didn't really know him. He was sitting right in front of me that day.
He was a nice kid, and he didn't deserve to die.
I suffered from a horrible head injury that put me into a coma for three days. It was internal bleeding, the doctors said. They said that I would live, and that I would be perfectly fine after the injury was healed.
But, a month after the injury, I found out that I wasn't fine. My first episode was exactly four weeks and two days after the accident. I was in the hospital, getting my weekly checkup, and it happened. All of a sudden, I started to hyperventilate. My mom freaked out and fainted once my face turned blue.
Now, eight years later, and I'm driving to a mental institution. Alright, it doesn't seem that bad actually. And it's not a mental institution. Mom and dad found the brochure and said that it would be great if I spent a little time there.
I'd been to therapy ever since the accident, but nothing helps. Five episodes after the accident, and I was diagnosed with the Panic Disorder.
The doctors said that with the right medication, I could be free of this horrible disease-like thing. But that wasn't the case. I'd been through mental therapy, physical therapy, and all other types of therapy. Nothing seemed to work.
Now, I had a panic attack once or twice a week. They lasted for about an hour, and once an episode started, it had to run it's course. There was no stopping it.
That's why I was kicked out of private school, that's why my parents were stressed 24/7, and that's why I'm going to be spending a month at Longs Peak Mental Therapy and Treatment Center.
Long name for a small and insignificant place. I've seen all the brochures; the place is actually lovely. It sits far away from the main road, up in a crook in the mountain of Longs Peak. It's practically a smaller version of a hospital, but for people with mental disorders.
It's only an hour from my house, so my parents said that they'd visit every weekend.
As I stepped out of the car, I could really see the place. It was a one story, older, building that was a mixture of warm and soothing colors. It had a large backyard, surrounded by trees. No iron fences like I had imagined.
There was a playground, a pool, and a sitting area outside. The building itself was pretty big actually, not like how it looked on the websites and brochures.
Mom and dad smiled as they put their arms around each other. After checking me in, they were going to go on a hike.
Yeah, just drop your child off at a place full of strangers than go for a hike, goddammit.
Sorry, I didn't mean that. I love my parents very much.
Walking into the place was scarier than the drive here. I hadn't realized that my breathing had become faster until my mom looked back at me. Her blond hair was shining in the sunlight, catching on every single highlight.
"I'm fine," I said, trying to slow my heart rate down. I grabbed my bag more firmly, and walked up the front steps.
Dad opened the door, and I finally could see the lobby. The colors of the walls were all different; blue here, pink here, green over there. It looked like a child's doctors office waiting room. The floors were wooden, along with the ceiling, and the front desk was a couple of feet from the front door.
The lady behind the desk smiled a toothy smile, her name tag reflecting off the lights above. My eyes squinted; after the accident, my eyes and ears had become very sensitive. I've learned to live with it.
"Welcome to Longs Peak!" she said cheerfully.
Already, I knew I was going to hate this place.
Two hours later, and I was shown around the full facility. It wasn't that scary, actually.
If you walked through a back door from the lobby, there was the Play Room. They called it that because there were quite a few younger kids that stay at Longs Peak. The "Play Room" is just a fancy word for a living room. Large TV in the back corner with leather couches, tables piled with board games, a Wii and an Xbox.
Two hallways stemmed from the Play Room. The girls dorms were through one hallway, and the boys dorms the other. The hallways were a mixture of colors, and the dorm rooms were as well. My dorm was pretty normal; it had maroon walls, hard wood floors, and a nice bathroom.
There were also two beds. My dorm-mate was named Lisa, and she apparently had been at Longs Peak for a long time. My contract was only for a month, just so that the people here could watch me and see all my symptoms. Some kids got treatment, but that wasn't my case.
I was just here to be observed. Kind of like some type of lab rat.
Mom and dad left just ten minutes ago. Mom hugged me goodbye, promising that they will stop by on Saturday. Dad quickly kissed my forehead, and then nudged mom and said under his breath, "Better get going, we don't want to hike in the dark."
Of course, all they cared about was their stupid hike. It was like they just dropped me off at some day care, rather than a facility for kids with mental disorders.
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First chapter!!!
Im so excited to be writing this story... :)
