Hospitals- Newtmas

Chapter one- first impressions are important

Attention! Groups start in ten minutes! Groups start in ten minutes!

The voice calls over the loudspeaker. I look back down at the book I'm reading. I've got ten minutes. I think, going back to it.

Three minutes to group! Three minutes to group! Again, three minutes to group!

I set down my book and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I sit for a few seconds before standing up and making my way to group. When I get there, the first thing I notice is a boy with short brown hair and brown eyes talking to the group leader, Marissa. Marissa looks at me when she hears the door slam shut.

"Ah, Newt. We missed you at group yesterday," she says. I nod and pull up a chair.

"Yeah. I had something important I needed to do," I tell her. Anticipating her next question, I add, "which I'd rather not talk about." But, considering she's the one who found out, I think she knows where I was. She sits in her chair and motions to the boy she was talking to to sit down in the chair next to her.

"Alright! Let's get this party started!" she exclaims, rubbing her hands together. "We have a new member today. This is Thomas." She points to the boy sitting next to her. He blushes and looks down.

"Hi," he murmurs. He must be shy.

"And, as you all should know by now, we're going to go around the circle and say names, ages, how long you've been here, and why you're here," Marissa says. Groans go up around the circle.

Everyone goes around giving their information and I zone out until it gets to me.

"Newt."

"Huh?"

"It's your turn."

"Oh. My name is Isaac Javvad Newton, but most people call me Newt, obviously. I'm nineteen and I've been here for five years. I was admitted by my dad. Um...he's actually, um, the reason I'm here. Because he...um...he..." I start to sweat and hyperventilate.

"Newt? Are you okay?" Marissa asks as my chest gets tight and I start to feel nauseous.

"What's going on?" I hear a girl ask. I stand and make my way to the door; getting dizzier with every step. I finally make it to the door and push it open, running to my favorite place: the closet at the end of the hall. I always come here when they happen. I haven't been here in a while, though.

I open the door to the closet and go inside, squeezing myself into a corner between a vacuum and a rack of other cleaning supplies. It's easy since I'm so small. I should probably mention why, though.

You see, around five years ago, I was admitted to Silver Creek Missions Hospital by my dad. He was "forced to", as he says. I was in a...dark place, let's just say. So he dumped me here and left. I never ate much usually, but after that, I just ate and threw it up later. So nothing stayed in my stomach. Then I started skipping breakfast, eating a granola bar for lunch, and eating a few bites of dinner. After a while, I stopped eating altogether. I told them I wasn't hungry. Or that I'd eaten a big breakfast or snack.

Then, around two and a half years ago, I was going to be let out. I'd made great progress of not hurting myself. That they could see, anyways. So Marissa and I were walking up the stairs to get my stuff and go home. The stairs weren't that steep and there were only two flights, but I was so thin and frail that it took the breath from my lungs. Marissa asked if I was okay and I nodded and told her to go on, that I just needed a break. I felt so weak and fragile that I passed out on the landing from malnutrition. Marissa came rushing back down. I'd hit my head pretty hard and I wasn't breathing much. She went to check my heartbeat(which was barely there) under my shirt and saw just how much my ribs stuck out.