Mental [#Wattys 2015]

Chapter 4

Two weeks passed without a word to Ricky.

Sometimes I would see him.

And he would see me.

And just when our stares became too long,

I broke them off.

I didn't want to hurt him-

but if there's one thing I learned from life; it's that no one looks out for you. I needed to look out for me.

*******

I was starting to get comfortable with the solitude.

I gave up on trying to become friends with the Bitches- even in a mental hospital, they still caught on with the latest celebrity gossip.

How?

I have no clue.

Maybe the were smuggling magazines or watching VH1 behind the youngest nurse's, Crystal, back.

But anyways, that made me want to take a knife to my neck again, so I left.

I often caught myself talking aloud--just to hear something.

And guess what?

This was written in my Charts.

When I saw one of the nurses eyeing me while writing, I marched(literally) up to her and told her I was completely normal and that talking to myself didn't mean anything.

So I got landed into the Eye Doc.

"So, I haven't seen you and Richard near each other. Well done." He said to me.

That stung.

I felt like an Eye Doc minion.

"We're not here to talk about him. Can we just get on to the actual problem?"

He nodded slowly.

"Nurse Stein wrote you were 'talking to yourself'. Care to explain?"

"I have no friends. Talking to yourself is normal. I'm normal. Why am I even in here? Ever since I got here, I've been fine. I just freaked out once. I should be released."

It was October- which meant the second month of my stay here.
I was hoping to get released- or Schedule as others called it- for December.

"Ah, but see, you are not normal. Since you've arrived you've had association with a criminal, multiple eating issues, social anxiety, and disruption. That, is not normal behavior."

"Then what is?" I snapped.

"Being obedient, observant, sociable, and happy for starters." He smiled.

"That sounds rather boring." I grumbled.

I back tracked with what he said. "Criminal" still got to me.

"Wh-what did Ricky do?" I stuttered out.

He chuckled, "More like what he didn't do."

Frowning, I said, "I'm being serious. What's his diagnosis?"

"That's confidential information. Plus, too fragile for someone mentally unstable."

A surge of energy went through me--palms sweating, knees shaking. My mind went black, then white, then yellow, purple, blue, green, and a the colors of the rainbow. I couldn't think- the voices got fumbled like white noise.

My hands went flying towards him; grabbing at him. My legs kicked at his desk.

"I AM NORMAL. ITS EVERYONE ELSE THAT DRIVES ME INSANE."

Two busty men broke through the door to his office; grabbing my wailing limbs.

"Strap her down, boys. She isn't done."

By the time they had my arms and legs strapped to the chair, I was exhausted from fighting. My hands went limp. My mind went foggy.

"If that episode wasn't enough to show your mental state maybe this will-" he said; dangerously glaring at me.

I wanted out. I wanted out. Get me out.

"-we have diagnosed you with Bipolar I Disorder. Your manic and depressive episodes prove the severity. Your impulsivity just validates our concerns. That is why you are here. That is why you are crazy."

Although I felt the exhaustion within every nerve ending and vein, I still managed to process what he said. And the only thing that worried me was the word 'concern'.

"Concern?" I mumbled out.

He raised an eyebrow.

"You aren't concerned with me. We're all just mice for your experimental drugs and treatments. You wouldn't care if one of us dropped dead. You don't even know our names without looking at a chart." I spilled out.

I couldn't tell if I felt angry, or just tired.

"But-we're different.

We feel.

If Mira,

the 76 year old librarian, who only talks about books and her death, were to die, I would know to burry her with Charlottes Web beside her.

And if Nate,

the boy with Tourette's, ever starts having a crazy look in his eye, I know to pull him to me and caress his hair to calm him down- just like his mother did before she died in a car accident.

And you know how I know all this?

Because I cared.

And if caring about one another isn't considered "normal"

---if having feelings isn't considered normal---

then fuck you and your normality, because I'd rather stay crazy."

Then, I blacked out.

A/n

Aaaaye, finally found out her diagnosis. And all diagnosis and reactions are to the point because I was diagnosed bipolar so I know what's up. So if you're reading this- let me know what you think so far? Or ignore this? Probably the second one. I tried.

Oh and Ricky isn't dead he just isn't in this chap BC c'mon Tessa needs love too.