Mental [#Wattys 2015]

Chapter 5

A/N

So I have a nine hour flight to Paris, and that means loooots of writing. And long chapters! I've been having some people ask me about the Eye Doc-Why he's so mean, does he have a mental illness, all this other stuff. I'd like to point out that he actually represents society. And some of the things he's said have actually been said to me! Just to show everyone how horrible society is to mental illness. Okay, I'll shut up, because this chapter is juicy. I enjoyed writing it.(:

When I woke up, I was no longer with the Eye Doc. Someone must've carried me in here while I was passed out. Carelessly-obviously. They didn't even bother to cover me with blankets. Jerks.

The second I walked out of my room, I felt eyes on me. Not just staff either; patients even stared me down. Maybe word got out about my 'outburst'?

I strolled down to the Lounge; a mystical place where everyone sits on raggedy, old rugs, and watches the same black and white channel on some vintage TV.

I sat down next to a younger girl-she looked maybe twelve. I glanced at her wrists to see they were covered--shoulder to fingers-- with scars.

"Hey," she said, leaning over towards me. "I'm Mel."

"Hi, I'm-"

"I know who you are. You're Tessa."

"How did you-"

"Ricky told me. He talks about you a lot." She said, smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

"How do you know-"

"I've been here for a while. Almost as long as Ricky; but I don't think anyone has been stuck here as long as him." She said giggling.

I didn't know how to feel about her. She seemed nice-but she also kept interrupting me. Or she could read minds.

"Sorry I kept interrupting you, your questions were just predictable."

Yep, mind reader. Called it.

I tried to think of an unpredictable thing to say, but she had this look in her eye that made it seem like she knew it all. Almost like...

"Wait, how do you know Ricky?"

She laughed, "He's my brother."

What? Ricky had a sister here? How? After a couple moments, my brain slowly gathered up and realized that actually made sense. That made a shit load of sense. The look in her eye. How she laughed this full hearted laugh. No wonder they were related.

"So y'all are both here? That's sad."

"Yeah, beats being a home." She said nonchalantly.

"Why? What's at home?"

"My parents." She winced.

I wanted to ask more, because she sounded more willingly to talk about their home life than Ricky; but I didn't push it.

"Yeah, parents suck sometimes. What uh- got you in here?"

"Ricky actually did. He thought it would be better for me; and he was right. Being home without him sucked."

I was so tempted ask more. I often wondered about Ricky and his home life. His life in general. But, I felt sorry asking- as if Ricky would be mad.

Who cares if he's mad? He's a criminal, did you forget?

Oh shut up, Bipolar. I can't deal with you right now.

"How's Ricky been? I haven't talked to him since...two weeks I think."