Let me tell you, I was not going to that hospital. No matter what they tried, I would not be leaving that hospital room, nor would I be getting on a white short bus, nor would I be checking into Maple Lane State Mental Health Facility (aka the Loony Bin). Never. But, after threats and bribes (untaken), I am finally forced out by a security guard in a black jacket. They took me to as I had thought, a short bus. It was a little humiliating to be escorted to a bus with "Mental Hospital" written all over it, but I tried to look as dignified and not psychotic as possible.
They hadn't let me go home, for fear that I would somehow hurt myself again. That was probably good judgment on their part, as I was planning that exactly. Mom had said she was bringing me some clothes, but so far no one had received a call from her. They had done all the safety precautions, including a double seatbelt that was only unlocked by keys. I felt like some sort of convict, but I knew this was for psychopaths. Or maybe just creative people like me who could use almost anything to hurt themselves. I was the only person on the bus except for the driver, who was not willing to talk at all. So I was pretty much alone without entertainment. Finally, thirty minutes in, I am about ready to die.
"Hey Mr. Bus Driver?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you have a phone?" I ask, squirming a bit in my seatbelt. He looks back at me. "I think you know that isn't allowed," he said. I pout, staring out the window.
"Please?" I asked. He was silent, his eyes on the road. I frowned and focus on a tree. More like a forest, a bunch of bushes that squatted next to the road, and some rotting billboard advertising a water park. This was gonna be a long ride.
~Three Hours Later~
I woke up with a jump. Somewhere along the way, I had slipped off, ending my stubborn vigil. The bus was stopped, and we were parked outside a red brick building, a lot bigger than a normal house. There were a few barred windows, with white curtains sitting behind them. The bus was parked under a white-painted pavilion, where a few people stood, ready to welcome me or whatever their purpose was. Peasants. The bus driver came down the isle, and unlocked the seatbelt. I stretched, glad to be able to move. Standing up, I grab my duffel bag from the storage shelf thing above me, hefting it over my shoulder. Just then, a woman in heels and a dress comes down the aisle, her red heels clicking on the black rubber floor.
"I assume you are Elizabeth?" she asks. I nod. "Hello. I am Mrs. Lotstein. I'm the president here. I will be taking you to your room." She begins to walk away, and I figure I should follow. We make our way through the doors, and into a small reception area.
"Mrs. Lotstein? You're needed at the phone," says a grey woman at the front desk. Mrs. Lotstein looks at me. "Tell Dan to bring her to her room. Number one-ten." She struts behind the desk and into a conference room. The woman at the desk picks up an almost army-esque walkie talkie and says, "Hey Dan, we need you at the front desk to escort the new girl!" she hangs up the phone and looks at me, "Just a second, wait here." A man in jeans and a black jacket comes from behind a corner. He sees me, and looks at the secretary. She nods, "This one."
"Hi. I'm Dan. Are you Elizabeth?" I nod quickly. We begin walking, and just as we turn a corner, he begins to talk.
"So. Tylenol?" he asks. "Yeah... Twelve..." he raises an eyebrow.
"Twelve? God, your liver should be given a medal of honor." I thought it was pretty funny, but I don't smile, nor do I have the will to. I don't want to. "I guess it does..." I say, playing along with his little game, at least for the moment. We were in front of my room, and he took a silver key to open it. As the door opens, I see tan carpets and cream colored walls. It looks like a normal hotel room, minus any object that could be used to hurt yourself. So basically a mattress sitting on the ground and a TV that probably has the power of a week-old potato. There is a tile bathroom off the bedroom, with a toilet and a sink. A shallow closet with only drawers sits near the back, with almost no clothes except for a few white hospital gown things. I cringe at the awful things. Dan follows my glare to the dress-like torture devices. They had to be white, didn't they...
"Yeah... The clothes here suck. I mean, it's funded by the government!" I almost smile, but bite my tongue. "I'll see if I can go out and buy some stuff... Jeans?" he asks. I nod. "Thanks," I say, stepping into my room. "No problem. I get a little bit of an extra fund from this place anyway."
He leaves with that. I sit on the bed, sighing loudly as the springs creak.. Maybe it won't be as bad as I think.
Not.
