Someone to Love

-16-

My eyes opened suddenly, revealing a pretty nurse in baby pink scrubs. She was changing out one of my IV bags which was filled with a clear liquid. When she saw I was awake, she asked if I was hungry. I nodded, unable to remember the last time I had eaten. How long had I been in here? Where exactly was I? Did they take me off grounds to the hospital?

I looked around a bit. I was in a room with a bed to my left, but it was empty. There were three windows: one between the beds and two on the opposite wall. All three were covered with vertical steel bars. Even in a hospital, a place for wellness and care, I was still trapped. Luckily, some medicine was pumping through my veins to keep me calm because I nearly went ape shit being trapped in here.

Why was I even in here? I racked my brain trying to remember what happened. I only remembered lying on my bed crying with Poussey holding me. I don't remember anything else. I looked down and saw a cast on my left forearm. Maybe I fell out of bed and broke my wrist.

When the nurse came back, she placed a tray of food in front of me on a movable tray table. I took a sip of the liquid in the cup. Water, of course. Once my throat was hydrated, she asked me if I needed anything else.

"Can you tell me why I'm here?" I whispered, scared my voice would crack from being dehydrated for so long.

"You don't remember?" She asked.

"No." If I did, I wouldn't ask you, right, lady?

"I'm going to go get the doctor and he's going to talk to you for a bit, alright? Eat up. I'm sure you're starving." She turned away before I could say anything else and left the room.

Sitting in front of me was a tray was what looked like meatloaf with runny mashed potatoes and corn. The plate obviously came from Gloria's kitchen, squashing the idea that I wasn't at Litchfield anymore. I ate quietly, happy that I finally got some food on my stomach, even if it was kinda gross. I finished all of my food and was working on my pudding cup for dessert when a doctor with salt-and-pepper colored hair came in. I don't know why he looked so familiar.

"Ms. Bernard?" He called, leaning in apprehensively.

"Hi, Doc. The nurse said you were going to talk to me."

He smiled slightly. He pulled up a chair.

"First off, Ms. Bernard, I am Dr. Ramsey Warren. You had a severe panic attack which caused you to have to be removed from Litchfield while we try to improve your mental health."

"So you mean to tell me that I had a mental breakdown?"

"Essentially, yes."

I put down my spoon and lied back. I was crazy. Jail had driven me mad.

"With a very light dosage of anti-anxiety medication, we can get you back to fully functioning in no time."

"Fully functioning? Am I broken, doc?"

"Not broken, Ms. Bernard, but just going through a rough period of trauma-induced mental lapse."

"English would be nice."

"Because your placement in jail, your brain literally overthought its way into a panic attack."

I looked up, fighting back tears. "I knew this place was bad for me, but I didn't think it would be this bad."

"Fear not, Ms. Bernard. We're going to help you. We're going to try to wean you off of our stronger anti-anxiety medication until we can get you down to a standard pharmacy dosage. Then we'll put you back into General population and have you go from there."

"Doc, how long do you think that'll be? You know, before I have to-" I tried and failed miserably to swallow the lump on my throat. "-go back?"

"We're not going to send you back until we are absolutely sure you can handle the setting again."

"And what if I don't?"

He sighed. "Then you may need a transfer. But don't worry about that, Ms. Bernard. Your focus should be on getting better, alright?"

I nodded, unable to talk because of the lump in my throat. Dr. Warren nodded too and stood to leave. He picked up my chart at the end of my bed, opened it, and without expression, read the information. After a moment, he closed it back and returned it to the case at the end of my bed. Then he left.

What the fuck. This hellhole had literally driven me insane. I had to be removed from this society within a society. Only the truly fucked up have to be isolated from the isolated.

I took my hand-the one that wasn't wrapped up in a tan cast- and as carefully as I could, took out my IV. It came out without too much pain or bleeding. Once I was free from the IV, I slid myself upright so I could get out of bed. I needed to get up and walk around. Being in the bed would make me weak. And right now, I needed all the strength I could get.

Pushing the movable tray away, I slowly moved my feet over to the same side of the bed. They were fortunately covered with grey non-slip socks, protecting me from the freezing linoleum. Unfortunately, the rest of my body wasn't as protected as my feet. My knee gave out as I stepped outta bed, sending me to the floor. My cast broke the fall, but that arm started to ache severely.

I pulled myself up and stood next to my bed, trying to figure out what I wanted to do next. I wanted to look out the window. I took a step and nearly fell again. I knew lying in bed was bad. I took a smaller step. That one wasn't so bad. So I took another. And another. And another. Until I had made it to the foot of my bed. I had used the bed for support the entire time, but now I had to walk about three feet to get to the window.

I took one hand off the end and steadied myself. Once I felt steady enough, I took my other hand off and took a small step. My leg started to tingle, but I kept taking small steps. Finally, after the old lady walking, I made it to the window.

I held onto the ledge and looked out. Just over the hill, I could make out the tops of the buildings of Litchfield. Is this was everyone meant by telling me I'd go down the hill? Well, I'm here now. They can't threaten me with the infirmary anymore.

"Ms. Bernard, what are you doing?" A voice asked, making me jump.

I spun around quickly, causing my knee to give out and making me tumble to the floor. I hit the linoleum, smacking my right palm against floor. That was when I realized that my arm was still bleeding from the IV removal. I had been dripping blood all over the floor. I stepped in it and bloody footprints that morphed and merged together covered the floor, disappearing under my body.

Seeing the sight caused my heart rate to increase, despite the medicine that was in my system. My breathing quickened and I tried to shrink away, but I couldn't. I was glued to the ground. Glued by my own blood. I wanted to scream, but I felt so heavy, as if someone was sitting on me. I couldn't see anything except the blood and black rubber soles. They were stepping in my blood. I needed my blood. Why were they in it? Get out of my blood! Finally, my lungs seems to work as I half-screamed, "My blood! Put it back in my body!"

"Ms. Bernard, please stay calm." I heard someone say.

"Shut the fuck up. Your blood isn't all over the floor. Mine is!"

Suddenly I felt a pinch in my back. I yelped in pain, but then I was being dragged away. The room faded to black as I heard my pleading echoing off the walls of this cell.
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Ohkay, so don't hate me.

I'm sorry.

I'm going to do better.

I promise.

Happy Friday.