Spirit

Little Help

There they all are.

Pretending like life is nothing but cookies and ice-cream. They have no idea what the 'outside world' is like. All the lying, robbing, killing...

And who knows what else there is to be.

Of course, employers here make it seem like everything is fine with the world. Unfortunatly, everything they try to do seems to kill me.

Music therapy is the worst. I don't know if it's much as music as noise, but Dr. Tilda insists that I join the 'thing' that they are shouting. If you want to hate music, Westhaven Mental Hospital is the best place to be!

But that's not why I got dragged into Westhaven.

"I'm here because I saw the truth."

That's what I would keep muttering to myself in my room here for the first five weeks. But now I know that all those things were just in my mind. So I got tired of this place, and now I want to leave. But they won't let me because:

"You're still in the middle of the process of your medication" Dr. Paul, the director of the hospital told me.

"But I'm better!" I replied sternly. "What, you're afraid I'm gonna snap again and start babbling stupid shit?"

"No cursing. Plus, yes if you leave right now there is a possibility that you might return to your old condition. And you don't want to go back to that stage, do you?"

"The only stage I'm going to is the one Britney Spears is standing on so I can grab her by her-"

"Luke!" The doctor interrupted me.

"Hand! Grab her by her hand!" I said with an innocent tone. "Are you sure I'm the one who needs medicating?"

Dr. Paul groaned and threw his hands back in surrender. He pushed back his glasses and said: "Obviously, you feel a lot better, but I can't let you go until I'm a 100% sure you're stable."

I always hated that word. 'Stable'. Like I'm some kind of animal on the loose that needs to be tamed.

"Ok fine whatever..." I grumbled, stading up preparing myself to leave.

"Luke." Dr. Paul's voice caught me as I was about to close the door. "Please, don't be upset with me."

"It's hard, considering two words from you and I get my freedom, but I'll try."

"I'm trying as hard as I can to make you feel like home, yet you reject everything!"

"Yeah, because you're still treating me like a fucking mental patient!" I shouted, staring directly into his eyes.

He made a face that I didn't quite understand at first, I thought he was surprised by the fact that I just yelled at him. Turned out he just had an idea.

Uh oh, I thought.

"What?" I said.

"You're going to be in charge of a mental patient" he said, with a smile on his face.

My jaw dropped. I was trying to comprehend the ten words he said, but it was too difficult. Then, I bursted into laughter. The man was obviously making a joke.

"Good one!" I cried out. "That was one hell of a joke!" I gave him a thumbs up.

"Not joking." He replied dryly.

"Oh my God, are you kidding me?!" I yelled, paniked. "You're going to make me a babysitter?!"

"Well, you won't be a mental patient anymore."

"Oh, fuck you!"

"No cursing!" Dr Paul repeated cautiously. "Look, just think about it, okay? I have the perfect patient for you, and you can read his file tomorrow if you accept."

"I don't like reading." I mocked. "And of course I don't accept! Who am I, Ms. Doubtfire?"

"Oh, there's not much to read. He's a new commer. He just arrived yesterday."

He took a more serious tone and said: "You don't have to make your choice now, just come by tomorrow if you're intrested."

I looked at him for a couple of seconds, before leaving his office without a word.

He's a doctor! He's supposed to be SMART! What the fuck is wrong with him? I kept thinking on my way to my room.

I went for my bed, and of course, one of the nurses passed by to give me those damn pills. Their sour taste was enough to make me puke what I had this whole week.

I remember the time when I would struggle to spit them, because I felt like they were killing me. Don't ask me how, but those pills were killing me. It's like they were ripping parts inside of me, burning them away. I did all sorts of things to try and not take the red and black pills, but security gards were always on me, pinning my body down and pushing the pills down my throat.

But I stopped struggling now. Whatever thing that was inside of me seemed to have given up. And I was... satisfied.

Lying on my bed, I left my body sink to the matress, my mind turn with all the questions running around my head, and my ears leave "Friday" by Rebecca Black's song.(Don't judge. Music therapy).  Finally, I fell asleep.

That damn dream again. The usual trees around me. The usual starry sky. And the blue fox bleeding from everywhere laying infront of me. It wasn't normal blood, more like a silverly liquid. I wanted to help, but I couldn't move. I didn't know why, but I was crying for him. He looked at me pleadingly and said: "Help!"

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Sooo what do you think?? I really hope you liked it!! If you have any sort of comment to give, please do not hold back :)