We=Psycho

Ambulances and Silent Screams

I sit in the car with the rapist himself, I avoid any contact and speaking. After a while I start to drift off through my mind trying recreate my memories. I start to see a ten year old me small, helpless and staring at his dad, his dead Dad. There were only about five people at the funeral, so I was able to have some alone time with the corpse. I remember starting to speak to him like he was alive and touching the coffin feeling my fathers new sleeping place, and calling it his new home. That day for me wasn't sad because I knew I didn't kill him cancer did, and I actually got to say goodbye. I pull out of my mind scared to go deeper knowing it gets darker. Once we stop I look out the windshield happy that he didn't try anything and happy to be home, but what I see makes me know for sure that I'm not staying.

I walk up my driveway seeing the reflection of flashing lights through my bed room. Scared to walk to the door, but also scared to go towards the ambulance I still observing the weirdness off this ambulance. It's for some reason a baby blue with nearly unreadable letters. I look closer and see it says San Fransisco's hospital- then I get slapped straight across the face. Knowing that it was the dinosaur I don't react,

" Reactions make you a little bitch! "she would always say.

I face her seeing the anger surge through her veins like electricity going through wires. It honestly scares me half to death.

" This is him Jordan Robinson! " My mom yells towards the ambulance.

A man in plain blue scrubs and Skechers rushes towards me. He grabs hold of my arms and shoves on the ambulance bed. The smell of death and sadness immediately slip through my nose.

" You are now under the custody of, San Fransisco's Hospital for the Mentally Ill. "

I suddenly can't move anymore and I'm stuck. I can feel my body start to hate Mr. Skechers and not because of him taking me away but because he sat me in front of a mirror. I have to look at myself for a straight, I see the bags under my blackish/brownish eyes from the nightmares, my milk chocolate skin, and my long skinny body. I now officially hate ambulances.

I have no idea why these idiots, they call doctors keep talking to me. They keep asking are you okay and how are you feeling, it's so annoying. Finally after an hour I explode.

" You idiots need to shut up and stop asking questions that make me even more depressed, so you guys need to leave me the fuck alone before I slap each of your teeth out of your mouths!!! "

They all fall silent and I have won this battle. After another hour we get to the hospital and it looks like a dog shit on fire then some one puked on it. I start to walk towards the front door and that's when I think I actually smell vomit. The grass here is as dead as my dad and as dry as my lips. I open the front door and realize that I might seriously be in a disgusting prison where therapy and medication is required. Unlike prison though I don't think they have a receptionist who wears pencil skirts and a " I'm better than everyone " look on her face. The guards walk me towards her and she immediately looks me up and down like I'm a piece of meat waiting to be thrown to the dogs.

Pencil Bitch: " Is the Newby? "

Guards: " Yup and he's a feisty one! "

Me: " Shut the fuck up don't describe me like I'm a small dog with no bite just bark! "

Guard: " See. "

After that statement I start to ignore this whole conversation and look at what Pencil Bitch is doing. I look at her desk and she has piles of folders and papers stacked so high that it blurs my vision so I just focus on the computer. She seems to be typing my name in and then a room number comes up.