The Infinity Trilogy

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

You would think that they would at least have the decency to not strap me to a wheelchair as they wheeled me out of the hospital and toward the white van that would transport me to Rutherford.   Everyone gave us a wide berth as the male nurse in the white scrubs wheeled me down the hallway and toward the front doors.  I could see them whispering to each other behind their hands, but I just ignored them. 

After my episode in the hallway, the doctors had gotten me back into my room and hooked up to everything again.  They weren’t so subtle when talking about my diagnosis in my room and right outside my doorway.  I could hear every word they were saying. 

Including schizophrenia and now, after the fire in the hallway, pyromania.

They weren’t considering the fever being the cause of my hallucinations.  That was now gone and replaced by the ever-growing realization that schizophrenia was the cause.      

My parents and Alex stayed in the room with me until the people from Rutherford.  It was like they couldn’t even look at me, though.  They would look anywhere but at me.  I was now their daughter that the doctors were wanted to send away.  It was like they didn’t know me after witnessing the scene in the hallway. 

I didn’t even talk to them when the people from Rutherford came to get me.  I didn’t say bye, didn’t tell them I loved them, nothing.  But neither did they.  I think that’s what hurt me the most, them not saying goodbye to me since I wouldn’t be seeing them for God knows how long.  It made me realize just how much I had now that my life had gone downhill.

Nothing. 

With that realization, I just stopped.  I stopped caring about them, about myself, and about what my life was going to be like now.  I just didn’t care.  I felt as if no one was going to care what happened to me.  So if they weren’t, why should I?

The male nurse who was pushing me stopped at the side of the door to the white van so the other could open it.  Once it was open, he wheeled me up the little ramp that went up into the back of the van.  The wheels locked into place and they shut the door.  I closed my eyes, leaning my head down.

I didn’t open my eyes for the entire drive.  I was guessing it had been about an hour when I felt the van come to a stop.  Hearing the front doors open and close and then the one beside me slide open, I still didn’t open my eyes.  I didn’t want to see where I was going. 

My wheelchair was being jostled around and then I was being wheeled down the ramp until I heard it hit pavement.  My eyes were still closed and I didn’t plan on opening them any time soon. 

When I knew we were inside, the first thing that I heard was a far off scream.  My eyes immediately filled with tears at the realization that I was really and truly here at Rutherford Institution.  I was here because my family and the doctors all thought I was crazy.  I wasn’t crazy, though.  I know what I saw.

There was the sound of a door opening and I felt a breeze of cool air make goosebumps rise on my skin.   The wheelchair stopped and I still didn’t open my eyes. 

That was until I heard a voice in front of me. 

“Hello, Lola,” a male voice said. 

I looked up to see a man who looked like he was in his early fifties.  He had on black-rimmed glasses and had salt-and-pepper hair.  He was dressed in khakis, a dark blue polo shirt, and worn a white doctor’s coat over it.  My eyes widened when I saw the name on his nametag. 

“You’re Dr. Fitzpatrick,” I said.  “My parents were talking about you.”

He smiled at me.  He seemed nice enough.  “Yes, I’m Dr. Fitzpatrick,” he said.