Walking Straight

Chapter 13

HI everyone! Thuis chapter is dedicated to Macy :) :* <3 she really helped me out with this chapter and I owe her everything I've got for fixing my writer's block. Thanks so much Macy, I love you!!! 

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Songs for this chapter:

Kitchen Sink- Twenty One Pilots

March to the Sea- Twenty One Pilots

A Car A Torch, A Death- Twenty One PIlots

Oh, Ms. Believer- Twenty one Pilots

Starry Eyed- Ellie Goulding

Beating Heart- Ellie Goulding

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TAYLOR'S POV:

I was wrong. Staying here is my worst nightmare. The days are lonley, except for Mondays, Wednesday, and Fridays, when I have group thereapy with Jacob. He sits next to me every time and I can't help but stare at his arms, hands. His scars are different. Some wind around his arms, and some create figures I can't decipher. I think some might be words, but I can never look long enough without it being my turn to share my thoughts on whatever the question posed is. 

Having free time cooped up in the dorm is also bad, Addie is always knitting, her needles clicking together and constantly shattering the silence as she makes deformed beanies and fingerless gloves.The only yarm she has is black, and whatever creation she makes is either kept by her or given to me. I always put whatever is unwearable in the dresser across the small room where our daily scrubs we wear are kept. If her beanie can be worn, I perch it atop my head until told by an attendant to put it in my "keepsake" box, AKA the "You'll get this back when you leave box".

Apprently Addie is a special case and is allowed to keep her creations. She tells me she always relapses when she leaves the center, and has been coming back for longer and longer for about 4 years. This time she wlll be staying for a year, though she won't tell me why she's here. 

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Nights are the worst. I can never sleep. I have counted sheep, drank milk at dinner to help with falling asleep, laid on my belly, anything I've heard from people that helps you sleep. Nothing ever works. It's not me this time around that is keeping me awake, it's everyone else. Everything else. After an incident the patients aren't allowed to know about that happened last week, nurses bombarded us during free time, pulling the heavy doors to our rooms off their hinges and never coming back with them. I had asked Addie what was happening, but all she did was whisper a reply I couldn't hear while being absorbed in her flicking needles. 

The light streaming through the doorway through the hallway wasn't the only distraction from sleep, but the noise of the night were just as frightening as the fact that nurses could walk by my room and watch me sleep. Cries of different patients could be heard down the never-ending cold and dark hallway. I could tell that Addie was use to it, every time the sun was swallowed by the hills, I would hear her snuggle deep into the covers and take in deep breaths, drifting into a light sleep. 

I didn't  know who the shouts would come from, but I had yet to discover. I wanted to help everyone who cried out, everyone who yelled but only got shots of sedations as a silencer. There was this one cry. One cry that would drone on and on throughout the night, no matter what the conditions were. Even after you would hear the nurses rush down the linoleum hallway to sedate the patient, you still hear the voice still softly wailing, moaning and whimpering as they try to use whatever is available to hurt themselves. A shirt, a hairtie, a plastic fork form lunch or dinner.