We walk down white hallways that seem to never stop. Signs instruct you how to get to different locations in the plaza. I read the name tag on the woman who came to get me. Dr. Carmon. We stop in front of a plain white door with a silver plate reading the number 219. She pulls out a set of keys and fumbles with them until she picks a key with gold lettering. She slides it into the doorknob and pushes the door open for me. I step into the room and a blast of cold air hits me, causing me to fall to the floor. Dr. Carmon helps me up and sits me into a wooden rocking chair by a large window. Outside, the grass is a sickly brown. The few leaves that are on the trees are dead. I force myself to look away from the dead world outside. The room feels empty with its dingy white walls, stained cream carpet, and all white furniture. The small bed has a dirty white comforter and a single pillow. I realize that Dr. Carmon has been talking to me this whole time.
"Over there is the bathroom, and if you need any help there is a string hanging on the wall. It will alert a nurse when you pull it. There is also a string hanging by your bed and it works the same way. In your closet are 7 of the same white jumpsuits that you will wear everyday. On Sunday someone will come to get the laundry, the process will repeat each week. You will follow directions and cooperate with every nurse. You will wake up at 7:30 in the morning and begin your daily schedule. At 5:00 you will eat dinner in the dining room and you will go to bed at 8:00. Follow the rules and you will get along just fine here at Edgewood Plaza." she gave me the most fake smile someone could possibly have and started to walk away. She put up her index finger in the air as though she forgot something. She turned toward me and said in a syrupy sweet voice, "Have a nice day." She closed the door gently behind her as she left. I opened the closet to see, just as she said 7 crisp white jumpsuits. Sitting on the floor of the closet were two pairs of plain white tennis shoes. I pulled one of the suits from a hanger and took a pair of shoes. I stepped into the bathroom to change clothes. I locked the door behind me and laid the suit and shoes on the counter beside the sink. With tears slowly sliding down my cheeks, I turned away from the mirror. Not wanting to once again see the person I had become. I stepped out of my jeans and shoes. Pained, I pulled my mom's shirt off over my head and brought it towards my face. I inhaled the familiar fragrance of my mom's perfume and the faint scent of the baby powder she used. Overcome by my tears and the memories searing into my brain I did the only thing it seemed I was capable of. I laid down on the cold tile floor of that bathroom, and I cried.
I cried until my face burned. I got up off the floor and put on the jumpsuit and shoes. I put the clothes I took off into the instructed laundry chute. I walked into the bedroom and looked at my schedule. I had already missed most of group therapy because of my tantrum in the bathroom. I had an hour to kill before dinner started. One thought echoed through my brain. One idea, that in the span of an hour could save me from the horrible world I was just thrown into called Edgewood Plaza.
YOU ARE READING
Wilted
МистикаAnna is 17 years old and lives with her alcoholic older brother. Her mother died when she was young and her father left before she was born. She begins to have horrific dreams that seem real and always end with her waking up crying and in a cold swe...
