Stephen and Sharpies ~ Watty Awards 2012

Part Two: Chapter One

Chapter One

    The movies always show the opening of doors as a glorious moment. The yellow lights and angels singing. There are always happy things on the other side, never a frightening clown or ex-boyfriend. Doors, why do they always seem to close when you need them to stay open? Why do doors you want to stay closed and locked away, always open? Well let me just say the  opening of doors is never a glorious moment.

    They haven’t opened yet. They just don’t automatically open like shown in the movies. Ms. Cecily has to pull the door open. There are no shining lights and singing angels, and especially no happy people. All I see once the doors open is some artificial lighting and a lot of nurses and crazy people. No one is smiling, only walking or frowning and a lot of people doing both. Psychiatric hospitals are really depressing.

    “I know it doesn’t look like much, but it is a really good place. Once you’re used to the routines.” Ms. Cecily acts like this is a new house and not a crazy hospital. I wonder if she’s ever lived in one. Probably not.

    Before I can respond my chest begins to tighten. There are two men, one about fifty and the other is no older than thirty standing just a few feet away from me. It’s starting again, it always starts with my chest tightening.

    My chest tightens. My heart and lungs are being crushed by my ribs. My torso is collapsing on itself. My vision is blurred and my mind is blank. The world is spinning as fast as anyone can spin on their own. Next it’s my whole body, it seems to be collapsing into a huge heap on bones, skin, and organs. I am shaking, my hands, legs, arms, head, everything. Then there is the final part of the sequence; the blood curdling scream that I manage to release from my dying lungs.

    “Stephen, can you hear me?” A familiar voice rings in my ear.

    Of course I can hear you, you idiot. I feel like I am screaming it out loud, but my lips never open. Instead my eyes slip open just a little bit. This is when I find that I am lying down on a bed with only a sheet to cover me. My teeth chatter as my body shivers. Can they not see that I am freezing? In front of me I see Ms. Hodgson looking at me with sincere worry. The room, I am lying completely paralyzed in, has simple white walls, two beds including the one I am lying in, a white night stand in between the two beds, a white desk in the right corner of the room in front of me, and finally one single light that is about the size of a soccer ball hanging directly in the center of the room. Everything is white, I cringe at this discovery.

    “Stephen, please talk to me.” I look at the woman talking to me. Gray hair, big blue eyes, red bowtie lips, yellowed teeth, tall and thin. She was beautiful some time in her life. Now she is an old, widowed woman who takes crazy kids to a psych hospital as part of her job. Ms. Hodgson is definitely not the one to send when someone needs comforting. She is too…professional.

    I try sitting up and fail in my attempt. Instead, I open my mouth taking in a deep slow breath. “I am fine, I just wasn’t ready for them to be that close.”

    “I know, I should have warned you, I should have brought you in the back way, I should have-”

    I interrupt her, not able to hear her tell me all the could’ve-would’ve-should’ve nonsense. “It’s fine, I have to get used to it, right? I might as well get over my passing out phase quickly.”

    Ms. Hodgson is taken aback at my response, only for a moment though. She straightens her face and smiles. “Yes, you are very right. You can’t be going around fainting whenever a boy walks near you. You are here to get better, so get better.” She pauses and looks around as if she heard something that has frightened her. “Now I must hurry along. I should be back to see how you are settling in and how your first days go, but until then, well just don’t pass out again.” With that she turns around and leaves the room without a hug or any sincere goodbye.