Stories From Therapy

Bad boys club

(Nikki's POV)
I can't help it if I'm a trouble maker. It's in my blood. Growing up in the care of my grandparents really fucked my life over from the start, making me feel abandoned by my mother. I couldn't help but think this as I lay in my hospital bed, staring at the ceiling as if the meaning of life was going to be written on it at any moment. How the hell does a Rockstar like Nikki Sixx end up in a mental hospital you ask? Simple. I tried to kill myself. I would have succeeded too if it wasn't for my grandpa..... I would have taken my place in the 27 club, like it should be. But no, I just turned 28 today, making it one year to date since I was sent here. No 27 club for me.

My dark thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Who the fuck is it?!" I yelled through the darkness of my room, not caring about the people in the rooms next door sleeping.
The door opened slowly, a sliver of light escaping into the room. "Please clean the other side of the room. Your new roommate is coming in today" a blonde haired nurse said before she shuts the door. Damn it! I don't want another roommate. The last one was a real ass. I made sure to make his life living hell by fucking around with his stuff, saying creepy things randomly, and staring at him. He eventually got too creeped out and moved rooms.

Did it get lonely? Sometimes. But, it gets them away from me before they can mentally scar me for life like my mother did. People always ask why I'm such a dick and ask if "my mommy ever cuddled me." I give them all the same answer, a swift kick in the stomach. If you can't tell, I'm not very excited for my new roommate. He can fuck off.

I slowly roll out of bed and started to pick up the clothes that were on his side of the room, not even caring that my side looks like a tornado had just passed through. If he doesn't like it, then he can just fuck himself with a big floppy dildo for all I care. I thought as I chucked my shit onto the floor on my side of the small suicide proofed room.

After I had successfully cleaned the new guys side of the room, I flopped down in my messy bed again, not feeling like eating today. "I'm too fat, and eating food is just making me fatter." I told myself as I fell back into a deep sleep. I just couldn't deal with people today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*Time skip*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I slept for a few more hours until that stupid blonde nurse came in and forced me to get out of bed. Fucking bitch. If I wasn't in this stupid hospital I would have slapped her, or fucked her, whichever one I felt like. I begrudgingly got up and went to the cafeteria where they were serving a lunch of turkey, mashed potatoes, 'stuffing' or what they called stuffing, and corn. You would expect that it would taste at least decent, but no; it tasted like complete fucking shit. I'm not even kidding when I say that my own vomit tastes better than this shit; believe me, I would know.

I finished my lunch, forcing myself to eat a little because I know that there would be hell to pay if they saw that I wasn't eating. I do not need more therapy. The emergency nutrients bars that they give you if you are caught not eating taste WAY worse than the actual food. After I dropped the rest of my food in the waste bin, I was ushered off to the group therapy, aka living hell. I usually just sit there and listen to other people talk about their stupid troubles, making fun of them in my head. I used to make fun of them, but then I was put into solitary confinement for a week, and I do not want that again.

After I was done with group therapy, I went to my room and fell onto the bed. Technically I'm supposed to go to arts and crafts, but I didn't want to be around people anymore, so I fell into a restless slumber as I waited for my new roommate to arrive.