These Demons

Chapter Fifty-five

After talking to Zoe for the first time in so long, I feel pumped with adrenaline and exhilaration, but my doctors don't agree with me when I inform them how much better I feel and still refuse to remove the tube and give me a discouraging detailed speech about just how horrible it would truly be for my health if I got rid of it myself to prevent any stupid plans of mine.
However, I am able to work out another deal and get the official permission to go for a walk inside the hospital with a companion if I eat dinner today and breakfast tomorrow and as much as that terrifies me, it's worth it.
Spending days in a stiff bed with nothing to do but watch reality TV and the ice crystals on the window melting at the sight of the rarely seen sun, I'm desperate for anything outside these four walls and with my own bathroom and the nurses' station right in front of my room, I need a doctor's permission to go anywhere at all.
Even a stroll down this hallway feels like the most fulfilling thing I've ever done and as soon as I'm back in my prison bed, I just want to hide underneath my blankets and never return, but instead, I agree to have another conversation with my doctor because I'm ready to make a decision that will probably have quite a large impact on my future.

Once again, my heart can barely handle how nervous I get, but I know I have to do this for two reasons: Number one being that I cannot possibly stand being here for longer than absolutely necessary and can't just leave, and number two that maybe, just maybe, I can get Zoe back into my life and everything into some sort of order again.

Cutting the small talk, I immediately blurt it out before I can change my mind because a war is raging in the back of my mind regarding this.

"I'll go to the nuthouse." Right after speaking it out loud, I realize I should have probably used a different term, but it's too late.

"You what?" the doctor echoes, clearly confused by my words, and I avoid her cold gaze because it's embarrassing to give in like this, making me feel weak and powerless. 

"I'll go to that place if that means I can leave... this place. I'll do it," I confess quietly and sigh audibly. She takes a moment to process my words.

"That's interesting."

I wrinkle my forehead at that strange reaction. "Interesting? That's your professional opinion?"
She clicks her tongue while flipping open my folder to go through her notes. "I didn't expect you to change your mind so soon," she simply says, confusing me.

"When did you expect me to?" I question her curiously.

"That's none of your concern," she brushes it off, but I disagree. This is getting interesting right now.

"I-"
"You can leave before the weekend if you eat," she interrupts me and changes the subject, startling me for a second.

"And the tube?" I slowly ask while I watch her scribble something down.

"Three meals a day and it's gone right away." She must see the great relief on my face, so she adds: "Locked bathroom, of course. You're not the first anorexic here." 

"Right," I reply, not commenting on how mean she sounds.

"We have a deal?" she questions and throws me a look, and I hesitate because this whole thing is very questionable, to say the least, because if I'm honest, this is the last thing I want. What am I getting myself into exactly? Is this really a smart decision? I haven't even thought about it for a day and here I am deciding huge things for my future based on what some girl said who doesn't want me anyway.

"How big are the meals?" I demand to know, but she avoids a clear answer.
"We have meal replacement shakes if you don't make it. They work just as well."

I watch her brush a strand of her blonde hair out of her face, noticing how many wrinkles she has around her eyes despite her overall young-looking appearance. Dealing with people like me all day must be exhausting.

"Ensure? That's horrible," I mention and hear her chuckle silently.

"Do you agree?"

"I guess..." I murmur because I know I don't really have any other options if I want to get out of here and see the people I care about. If I want to see her.

"You're out of here in no time if you do. And that place will help you a lot," she promises objectively and I can't help but sigh again.

"Yeah..."

"I'll sign the documents tomorrow," she eagerly decides, obviously pleased that I made this choice.

"Alright," is all I reply.

"That's great to hear, Andy," whatever her name is tells me and I hesitate again before telling her the truth.

"I'm really fucking scared," I finally confess, afraid of the reaction, but she doesn't look surprised.

"Oh, I know that. That's normal," she shrugs, busy with her folder again.

"Doesn't make it better," I argue and drop my eyes to the tiles again.
"It will get better," she claims, but I doubt it.

"How do you know?" I ask and she gives me a small smile.
"Those people are experts. They know what they're doing."

I hesitate. "What if I don't?"

Not able to understand what I'm trying to say, she wrinkles her forehead, so I try to make it clearer. "What if I won't know what to do?"

"You'll get it figured out," she promises, but I have more doubts than I can count.

"Yeah, sure," is all I say.

This might be the best or worst decision I ever made, ruin everything I worked so hard for or save me from myself, and the worst part is that there is no chance for me to know anything before it happens.

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Frank Iero And The Patience - The Resurrectionist, or an Existential Crisis in C#