Relentless

Vic

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and rolled over to check the time. Four o' clock in the evening. Not bad, only two hours before my parents got home.

I got dressed and ate a bowl of cereal, pretending I didn't sleep all day. After eating, I went back into my room and started sketching. My sketches aren't the best, but I plan on getting better. It helps cope with everything, like I'm not part of reality. I don't know, it's weird.

I was halfway done with a big one when I heard the front door open. "Vic, where are you?" my mom called. Reluctantly, I came out of my safe spot. "I'm here," I replied.

"Honey, we need to talk," she said in a cautious voice.

Oh no. "Um what is it about?"

"Well, let's all sit down first". We all sat down on the couch, me on the single seat. "So your father and I've been thinking, well, we think that it'd be best if you took a break, y'know, to gather your thoughts and maybe talk about..life?"

"You mean a therapist?"

"A little more than that, sweetie. Well, um-"

"What your mother means, is that we'd like you to go to Birchwood. Just for a little bit," my father interrupted.

"Wait why? There's nothing wrong with me," I exclaimed. Though secretly, I thought it'd finally be my chance to see Mike, my little brother, again. It's been years and I miss him so much.

"Victor, don't lie to us. We know what you've been doing," he said in a stern voice.

"I don't know what you're-"

Suddenly, he grabbed my arm and pulled up my sleeve. I cried out in pain and tried to break free, but he was too strong. He quickly did the same to the other arm and held both of them.

My mom started crying. Eight cuts on each arm. I ripped my hands away and quickly put them to my chest, trying to ease the pain.

"Victor..." he said quietly.

"Leave me alone," I said in a shaking voice.

"No. You need the help and you know it. We're leaving tomorrow morning. No excuses."

I ran back into my room and laid down. My eyes started watering so I hid under the covers. I could faintly hear my mom crying and being comforted. That just made me feel worse. I clutched my sketchbook to my chest as I drifted to sleep.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — —

I woke up to my mom shaking me,

"Honey, wake up or you'll be late."

"Mmmmmmm"

"Hurry so you can eat before we leave."

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm"

When she left, I rolled off the bed, causing something to fall and hit my nose. I winced and opened my eyes. It was my sketchbook. I slowly remembered what happened last night and wished I could go back to sleep. Was I even allowed to bring it? I can't live without it so maybe they'd have an exception.

I got dressed and brushed my teeth, hoping that if I stalled long enough, they'd give up and I wouldn't have to go to some stupid hospital. My plan backfired when they rushed me downstairs to finish my cereal. Whatever. Maybe leaving would be a good thing, I tried to tell myself as I put on my shoes. It didn't work. Before I knew it, I was already buckled into the backseat of the old, all too familiar, family Toyota. The sketchbook was tucked inside my shirt under my hoodie, which was very uncomfortable might I add. Hopefully they don't notice.

We've been driving for about ten minutes now and we still aren't there. Why can't we get this over with already? I watched as the buildings slowly disappear through the window. The stickers on the side of the familiar neighborhood building were fading away. Mike and I used to stick on whatever sticker we could find when we were kids.

The good old days. My eyelids slowly started closing, Mike's favorite guitar sticker disappearing from my sight.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
I was having a "nice" dream when suddenly my head smacked against the window with a loud *thunk* sound. Is my head really that big? Anyways, I quickly woke up and rubbed my hand on my head. I was so confused until I looked outside. We arrived at Birchwood.

It looked so drab, dull, dusty. The three D's. Well, there's another one but that's not important right now. My parents turned around and looked at me with sad eyes. God, that felt horrible. I looked down at my hands for a good minute until they started getting out of the car. Slowly, I followed suit and left the sanction of the precious car. They held both my hands all while we walked inside. Now that I'm closer, I can see the white paint chipping and the floor tiles cracking.

"How can I help you?" the lady in the front desk asked. She had wide eyes and a fake, plastic smile that looked like she had 30 shots of Botox. Interesting.

"Hello, this is my son, Victor Fuentes, and he's supposed to be admitted to, um, Wing B today," my father said in a low whisper.

"Ah yes Mr. Fuentes, welcome. Would you like a moment before leaving him in our capable hands?"

"Yes please and thank you very much," my mom said urgently. They pulled me over to the side and turned me towards them.

"Son, behave and remember that we love you very much. These people are trying to help you."

"Sweetie, don't forget about us and how much we care about you. Please try to get better so we can have you back with us as soon as possible."

They said this with tears in their eyes so what could I possibly say back? Instead, I hugged them and said, "Don't worry." With that, I followed the Botox lady and left my parents.

After a quick tour, she led me to a smaller corridor. The hallways were so small, our shoulders were practically touching as I walked beside her. In about every five steps, there was a door on both sides of the hallway. Must be very tight rooms. "This is where most of the patients' rooms are. And that is your room," she said pointing to a door with the numbers 206 written straight across it.

I hesitantly opened the door, expecting something to jump out and grab me for emergency mental help, but sadly, it didn't happen. It was just a normal hospital room with two beds on each side, though both looked like they hadn't been used. "For now, you don't have a roommate but I'm sure someone else will appear," she said behind me. I chose the bed on the left 'cause it was closer to the only window. It had thin, fluffy, white bars across it, probably to prevent anyone from using the glass. Of course.

The Botox lady suddenly appeared beside me with some clothes, folded neatly in her arms. "Here are the clothes you have to wear during your stay here, it's just for a week and then you can wear our normal clothing. Please change and feel free to relax in your room until further instruction."

I grabbed the clothes and put them on top of the bed. I sat down and pulled out my sketchbook. I started a new one so I could vent. When I finished, the sun was already setting. I quickly changed into those plain, stiff clothes and put mine into the kid-safe dresser. I slid my pencil inside the spine of the sketchbook and put it under the bed so it wouldn't be found. Right when I stood back up, someone knocked on the door and I quickly jumped back on the bed. My life here was just beginning.