Claustrophobic Mind

Chapter 33

Mike woke up two hours later just as the sun had spilled through the hospital window. He was sweaty and awkwardly positioned while he was wedge between Billie and the hospital bed. Mike rubbed his eyes and sighed, thinking how Billie Joe's situation has only begun.

Before he turned to leave the bed, Mike looked over at Billie and watched him sleep. His chest moved up and down in a slow, repetitive rhythm. A soft snore escaped his nose, making Mike smile to himself.

Mike noticed that Billie Joe's eyes were shut tightly, as if he was having a nightmare. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips pouted. Speaking of his lips, they were dry and pale. Billie looked uncomfortable, seeming to have a hard time sleeping. Usually someone looks peaceful as they sleep, but not Billie. Mike expected this though. He knew that Billie Joe has been a bad sleeper since his anxiety started, and his anxiety started after his dad died.

A sigh left Mike's chest as he felt so much sympathy for Billie. He had gone through so much. Mike wondered if he ever felt alone.

Mike leaned down and kissed Billie Joe's filthy dark hair. Despite its dirtiness, it still smelt like the apple shampoo that he used at Mike's. Mike loved to smell that sent whenever he gave Billie a big hug. He questioned if he would ever smell that sent again.

Billie Joe stirred at the sign of affection, but didn't wake. Mike was glad. He wanted Billie to sleep.

Finally feeling satisfied to stand to his feet, Mike crept out of the hospital bed. He was surprised the hospital floor wasn't cold, that was until he realized he slept in his shoes. Sanitary.

Mike went back over to the hospital chair to check his phone. He wasn't expecting to have any notifications, but he then saw that he had 25 messages from Adrienne.

All of the messages were her asking how Billie Joe was doing, did he have any risks, why wasn't he answering her...so on and so forth. Mike chose not to text her back. He felt that if Adie really cared, she would be here, along with the boys. Instead she's cowering, blaming the whole situation on Mike because she's too afraid to admit she was wrong for leaving Billie. Mike wasn't mad at Adrienne. No, that would never happen. But he was disappointed.

Suddenly, a knock was on the door. Mike turned around quickly to see if it was a visitor for Billie. He was let down when he saw it wasn't. It was a nurse.

"Mr. Armstrong's doctor would like to speak with you," her squeaky voice spoke. It annoyed Mike.

He felt like hushing her, afraid that her high pitched words would wake up Billie Joe, but he knew that would be rude. Instead, he nodded and gave Billie one last glance before following the nurse out the door.

Mike met the doctor out in the hallway. The doctor carried the same stupid clipboard that he had the last time Mike saw him. Mike wondered if he even wrote anything important on it.

"Michael Pritchard," the doctor sighed.

Mike impatiently nodded, for some reason extremely annoyed by him.

"We need to talk about the admission of Mr. Armstrong into the local psychiatric hospital," the doctor started. He laid his useless clipboard down on the counter next to him.

"Okay."

"He will be put in the therapeutic unit do to his mental illness being caused by a traumatizing event," the doctor informed.

Mike knitted his eyebrows together in confusion.

"What's a therapeutic unit?"

"It means that he will have to undergo therapy, unlike most patients. Most people admitted into the mental home don't need this kind of assistance and can participate in group activities on a daily basis to discuss to others about things such as what got them there, what their goal is, and how they're doing. He will participate in that as well, but the therapy will be needed for such an effected patient."

Mike didn't know how to feel about putting Billie Joe through therapy. He didn't know if he would agree. He didn't know if Billie would think that everyone thought he was crazy. He didn't know what would happen.

"So you think he might have PTSD or something?" Mike asked. He was confused on what the doctor was trying to tell him.

"Post traumatic stress disorder is sure to come from this experience. And having that laced with his mental state could cause more problems in things such as sleep and anxiety," the doctor explained, folding his hands together.

Mike scuffed and stepped back. Unbelievable. Billie already had enough problems with sleep and anxiety as it is.

"He could wake up with night terrors, maybe develop some form of sleep walking, sleep talking? We never know for sure," the doctor said. His pity for Billie's situation was very obviously fake.

"How long do you think he will be in there?"

"It's hard to tell. Considering he's going into the therapeutic unit, there could be a chance of him staying longer than most people would."

"And how long would that be?" Mike questioned, knowing the doctor was stalling.

"Weeks, months, maybe even up to a year. There's not way of knowing. It all depends on how well he's doing," the doctor said. He forced a sad smile.

Mike leaned over on the counter next to him. His knees felt weak from hearing how long him and Billie Joe had until he was better. No, this can't be happening. This has to be a dream. Mike has to be sleeping. Wake up Mike, wake up Mike.

"You alright?" the doctor asked with a hand on Mike's shoulder.

"How often can I see him?" Mike asked. He started to feel the lump in his throat and the tears burning behind his eyes.

"Most hospitals do weekends for two hours," the doctor said solemnly.

Mike fell to his knees. No, he can't go that long without seeing Billie Joe. He can't leave Billie in there that long by himself. He started to cry into his hands. Sobs.

"He'll never agree to go if he knows I won't be able to see him. He'll fight until hell breaks loose before he steps foot in that hospital. You can't do this!" Mike sobbed. He still sat in the floor.

"If there is ONE visitor that is a benefit to the patient's health, you might be able to see him up to four days a week. But that's at most. Mr. Armstrong has no choice. He is a danger to himself and the people around him. After a few therapy sessions, they may let you visit more often. Otherwise, I'm sorry," the doctor spoke calmly.

"This can't be happening..." Mike whispered.

"He'll be admitted to the hospital tomorrow morning. Don't get him too rallied up," the doctor said. He patted Mike's back unemotionally and walked away without saying another word.

Mike was left sitting on the floor. He had finished his cries before he stood to his feet. He bushed the dirt off his pants and then proceeded to turn around to go into Billie's room.

When Mike walked in he saw Billie Joe laying in the bed with it slightly sat up, considering he was too weak to sit up on his own. He interest seemed to be in staring out the window, watching the gray clouds roll by. Billie's eyes were fixed the scene making him unable to realize Mike's presence.

Mike stood and watched him for a while. Maybe he was awake, but he wasn't there. He wasn't Billie. No, that Billie left a while ago. Before Mike could catch him. Before Mike could grab him by the wrist and beg him to stay. His name chart said Billie Joe Armstrong, but the person laying in that bed was the furthest you could get from him. Mike wondered how it got this far. He wondered if he could stop it. He told himself no, for he already felt guilty enough.

He continued his way into the room and sat down in the hard hospital chair. Billie still didn't turn his head to even acknowledge Mike. He stayed where he was. He stayed how he was. How he was for a while.

Distant.