Sleep Is Death

Entry 9

October 25, 2010
Monday

I had a new physician since the other one caught mono. This one was Indian and just as approachable, but she seemed genuine, whereas Doctor Lewis faked her compassion.

"I see here that Mary got you started on Trazadone." She flipped through my paperwork neatly stashed in a manila folder.

My eyelids were heavy, and I kept hearing static in my ears. I was slouching in my chair, watching her remove a sheet.

She set the folder in the desk drawer, but her eyes were locked on the paper. She skimmed over paragraphs, her eyebrows drawn in like she was either focused or in disbelief.

"Hey," I forced myself to speak, and it felt like that much took a huge portion of my air and energy. She looked at me over where her glasses would be if she wore any. "When, do you think I should be able to go home."

"That's dependent on you." She pushed her long, pin-straight hair off her shoulders. When I nodded, she elaborated, "Most residents leave after a week, some after a month."

"Okay," I mumbled and took a deep breath. "Well, what, like, do I need to do to leave soon?"

She cracked a smile and said, "Miss. Adams, judging by your reports, I strongly believe you'll benefit from being here even if it's just for two months."

"Two months," I raised my voice. She slowly lost her grin. "Any longer, and I'll not only lose my job, but I'll lose my apartment! I can't stay here!"

"Please refrain from yelling at me." Doctor Sharma kept her composure, and it only made me angrier.

"Why is everyone telling me to calm down?" I jumped to my feet. She flinched and grabbed her armrest, glancing at the door. "Am I in the fucking Twilight Zone?" I spoke with my hands and I'm sure I was loud enough for the other girls waiting in line. "I shouldn't even be here but because of one mistake, everything I worked for will be gone! You mean to tell me you wouldn't be angry too?"

The door flew open and Devon was standing there alternating between me and her.

He looked past me to ask, "You alright, Prisha?"

"Yeah," she said and her voice was shaking. "I have it under control."

He stayed in the room with us, leaning against the door with his arms folded and a scowl that only softened when he looked at her.

He made me sit down and whenever I tried to speak over her or correct something, he'd yell for me to stop talking.

She always winced when he did, but she wasn't truly bothered. If she was, she wouldn't have stared at him whenever I opened my mouth to speak or when I rolled my eyes.

I can't remember the conversation in as much detail, but she kept saying that I may be bipolar and that two months would give them time to help me.

I just nodded while licking between my teeth and my upper lip. I wanted to slide my arms across her desk and sweep her computer, paperwork, and pictures onto the floor. If I had the strength, I probably would've flipped over her desk, too.

They could've tackled me and sedated me. They could've chained me like they did that girl and tossed me into the basement with the rats and flies. Even if they withheld my food for another day, I wouldn't have regretted it.

After a while, I was dismissed with a prescription for Lithium to take after I completed my other prescription.

These people are determined to either turn me into a zombie or kill me.