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When I reached the courtyard, some other patients are already having their own mini world in there. One is talking to the only tree planted in there and the other one near her is laughing uncontrollably. Nothing harmful though, fortunately.
I slowly walk up to the empty bench near the wall. We just finished therapy. Dr. Collins just did the same thing every week and then he announced to the nurses in there that they can take us out here.
Only few patients are given the therapy treatment. And by that, Mike once told me that the sanitarium gives therapy on people with depression, hallucination of some sorts, but those completely deranged patients, they're not taking it.
Mainly because it's not really possible to talk to them. Utter even just one single word and they'd like go full on hurting you. And those are the patients located on the other end of the building. Annika is a part of therapy treatment, though.
One of the pro's of having therapy during Thursday's is that we can stay out here for more than an hour and let the sun touch our skin. Well, at least a new ambiance instead of the boring four walls in our rooms. Plus, it's a bit dark in there, the lights are poorly lit.
I averted my gaze towards the bench placed at the side near the door. I see the new patient yesterday at the cafeteria. All the same expression, his jaw clenched, knuckles white from clenching his fists tight. I wonder why he is here. What he could have probably done.
He looks angry, just like yesterday. He doesn't look like a lunatic though, maybe he's a psycho. That leads to me wondering how do I look like to the staffs here? An insane patient? Psychotic? Deranged? Maybe the second one, since Aubrey always makes it to the point to whisper that word to me every lunch hours.
Unfortunately, she was there yesterday at lunch. Which gave her the chance and satisfaction to irritate the living hell out of me. I tried my best not to grab her arms and shove her to the wall. Not like I have the guts to do anyway, it was all mere thinking, but haven't she learned her precious lesson when I absentmindedly lashed out on her weeks ago? That nurse seriously got the nerve.
I wasn't aware that I was still looking at the new patient until now. He seems to notice that someone is looking at him and so he looked over at my direction. I tried to wave a little but he turned away before I could. Not friendly, huh? Not like I am trying to make friends by the way.
I fiddle with my fingers now feeling bored out here. Maybe I could use some sleep, but I can't see any nurse in here that I could go to and ask if I can go back to my room. The guard on the door looks sleepy. I sigh, leaning against the bench I am sitting at while stretching my legs out.
"Hey," I open my eyes and see the new patient hovering over me. I squint my eyes and then sit up straighter. He takes the seat next to mine and crossed his arms over his chest. I bet that is his mannerism.
"Oh hey," I answered back, a bit awkwardly. A wind sweeps by and then there is silence. I hate to think about it but I guess I would be the one to break the ice.
"You're new here, right?" "how long have you been here?" we both said at the same time. He chuckle deeply and I too laughed a little at myself.
"Well you go first," then again, we both voiced out in sync.
"No you go first," he finally says, "ladies first"
I shake my head, chuckling and then I intertwined my fingers together, "I've been here for like eight years. Now it's your turn."
He looks at me for a second, I noticed there are circles under his eyes, and I guess maybe that's because of lack of sleep. I think patients new in here tend to have those on their first months of staying in here. The depressed ones, I mean, "two weeks"
"Why are you here? depression? hallucination? or did you do something?" I can't help but ask. Over the course of years, I've had this to myself that if I ever come across a new patient I would never ask them why they ended up here.
Simply because of my belief that if someone wanted to tell you something, they would. You won't have to ask it. But it feels like this time, it's different.
He must be taken aback by my question and he looked at me sharply, "oops, sorry."
His features softens and he shakes his head. He leans against the bench and closes his eyes. I take that as a no-I-don't-want-to-answer-that-question-now-shut-up, and so I did. I look at him, he looks tensed. He opens his eyes slowly thereafter and I quickly diverted my gaze to the rock sitting on the ground.
"It is a mistake," he said a few moments later. He looks across the courtyard, towards the other patients, "I am not supposed to be in here"
I furrow my eyebrows at him, "what do you mean?"
"Just forget it," he says flatly. He obviously didn't want to go into details and the least thing I wanted to have right now is for someone lashing out again on me and ending me up on a clinic a day later, so I didn't push it.
I wonder why of all the patients in here did he ever considered going up to me and having a small talk. Maybe he thinks I am normal? But I quickly dropped that thought away, placing it in the far back corner of my brain.
Who would think that a mental patient for eight years is normal? He must probably think I'm psychotic too.
I look up at the sun touching my skin, it looks beautiful, along with the skies above. I bet it's beautiful outside here too. Outside of this sanitarium. I wish I can go outside. But I don't know how. And I also know for sure that I couldn't get out of this place as soon as I find out what brought me here first. I need to know. But that's another how?
Well, I can just go and ask the doctors, but I'm too chicken to do it I guess.
Another is that, I can just simply go and ask Mike to look at my records. But I didn't want to use him as that way. So far he'd been friendly, unlike the rest of the nurses in here. And I also didn't want him to think that I am using that little-kind-heart of his as my way of knowing the questions in my mind and escaping out of here.
I don't want to lose the only sane person I can actually have small talk in here.
✂------------------------------------------
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