365 days of Darkness // Z.M.

Day 169

January 7th, 2010

That was the day when the therapy started. They woke me up not even two hours after I had felt asleep, at seven in the morning. I was probably looking tired as hell, but I couldn't know if I was right. I didn't had mirrors in my room, just in case that I would punched it. I would probably had. 

I walked slowly up to the cafeteria, as the nurse was telling me everything that they had to eat. I wasn't listening, I didn't wanted to. All I was doing was trying not to have a fucking break down and start screaming at everyone to just let me die. I surely didn't wanted to live. I sat at a table as soon as I stepped inside of the cafeteria, not looking at anything. I didn't wanted to eat, I didn't wanted to do a thing. The nurse sat in front of me and rested an hand on mine, which were laying on the table. I pulled away quickly, I didn't wanted anyone to touch me. 

- Zayn, you need to eat, she said, with fake understanding. 

I stared blankly at the table, looking at the pattern the wood was making. I was only trying to stay concentrated on the fact that it was that girl's job, that I didn't needed to jump at her throat. But damn, I wanted it. I wanted to punch her until she would have give me a fucking knife, or pills, or anything. Anything that could have stopped the pain. 

- I'm going to get you something.

The nurse get up and I knew she was smiling. She always was. Or maybe it's just because everyone in there was looking depressed as hell that her tiny smile looked like she was living her dream life. Anyway. She came back a little while after she left, me still in the same position. She put the plate in front of me and I didn't moved. I can't remember what it was, probably those eggs they were always doing for breakfast. 

- Zayn, you need to eat a bit. 

Not a move, again. So the nurse just brought her chair closer to me and took the fork in her hands. She almost shoved the thing in my mouth so I would eat. I almost been sick on her white blouse, because eating was out of my league for the moment. It was too much. Everything was fucking too much. 

I had a meeting with my psychologist in the afternoon. I came in, the nurse leaving me at the door. She had been stuck to me all day long and I had enough of her. I sat on the couch in the office, arms crossed on my chest, looking at my feet. My old Vans seemed pretty interesting, at the moment. 

- How are you feeling Zayn ?

Those words were the first ones Dr. Jefferson ever told me. I almost wanted to laugh at him. Damn, I was in this fucking institute and he was asking me how I was feeling ? Like I would say "oh, good, it's nice to have a full time babysitter and no privacy". 

Facing my silence, the doctor started to speak again. 

- Okay, let's try something else. On a scale of zero to ten - zero being fully happy and ten wanting to die - how bad are you feeling ?

I still wasn't speaking. He should knew. I had tried to die, I surely was a ten. That was so obvious. Silence filled the room and that's how the next three hours went by. In a fucking damn silence.

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Yesterday's entry, so sorry ! Can't post again tonight, so damn tired x) but I'll be posting twice tomorrow, promise !