Graceful

L U N A

Luna

I am shoved around rooms and through wide corridors by women in faded white uniforms. Their cold hands grope against my upper arms as they drag me through the halls. The temperature suddenly drops and my sweat cools, and the taste of fear spreads across my tongue. The rooms spin and I pass multiple doors, until the two women, with long nails open a door and place me on a dusty bed with loud springs. I don't feel insane but people say I am. I don't belong here. The women leave the room with no context, and I lay on the thin mattress, drowning in my thoughts. I remember my parents saying goodbye in tears as I was dragged into a car. Behind the ringing of my ears, I hear my mother say, "It is for your own good."

Nobody told me where I was headed, so I was ready to solve a puzzle. The car was a large white van with small narrow windows on either side, and normal windshield and windows in the front. A man turned from his seat and introduced himself as Dr. Allen, and that was my first puzzle piece; I am going to a hospital.

I hear footsteps approaching from outside my door. I watch the doorknob turn, and Dr. Allen walks in with a white bottle with a label, and I squint my eyes to read the label but it is too messy to understand. "I can barely read my handwriting myself." he says and I let off the slightest smile. He doesn't seem that bad, and he's not scary, I say to myself, attempting to stay positive.

"Where am I?" I immediately ask. "You don't know?" he says, quite surprised. "No. tell me." I demand. "You're in an asylum."

Beads of sweat trickle down my neck and I feel tingles all over my body. A lump in my throat forms and I hold back tears.

"Swallow this pill." he says, changing the subject and handing a blue pill over, and taking a glass from the bedside table. "What-what will it do to me?" I ask, stuttering. "Help you." he says, smiling, and I assume he is wanting a similar smile in return, but I don't smile. "Help me with what?"

"It will make you happy." he says, with the same smirk as before, and I take it from his hands, hoping that he will then be gone sooner. I drop the pill in my mouth and take a big gulp of water to swallow the pill. But I could still taste my fear.

A couple days pass, with food pushed through a small slot located at the bottom of the door, and more pills given to me by Dr. Allen. On the third day, he told me that every Thursday there is group therapy, for Group D, which was my group. He explained to me that there were 7 groups, A, B, C, D, E, F, and G. each had a group therapy every week, which was a period of time in the day when everyone in the group would get together and talk. Finally, I thought. I get to see some people.

Thursday comes along and Dr. Allen brings me to group therapy. We all sit down, remarkably behaved, and the woman in faded white starts off with a welcome. "Hello everyone, and welcome to another group therapy. We have a few new members, so lets let them introduce themselves and tell their story."

A boy named Carlos is asked to tell his story, but he refuses and explains that it is too gruesome for others to know. Most of the people then made a face saying "I don't want to know what it is..."

When it comes to my turn, I tell my story. "My name is Luna, I am 16 years old, and I killed my best friend. I don't feel like I belong here though, because I am not mad." surprisingly people aren't bothered by my story and my confidence with telling it.

We continue group therapy, and I hear Dr. Allen behind me, talking to someone.

"So dinner tonight?"

"Sure"

"Okay, see you then"

I turn around to see a blonde woman with short hair walking away, and I assume it is Dr. Allen's girlfriend, so I continue to listen to the group. At the end, the woman dismisses everyone, and Dr. Allen walks up to her. "Hey, you want to have a couple drinks after work?" says Dr. Allen, "Okay." answers the woman almost immediately. I look around for the blonde woman, and she is opening doors for people. Maybe they're just friends.

When I get back to my room, I sit on the bed and think about why I am here. The reason still doesn't come to my mind. Maybe I am mad.

I hear a plate side through the slot and I go to pick it up, and try to ignore the smell of burnt brussel sprouts and expired meat. Dr. Allen walks in with a few pills. "Do you have a girlfriend?" I ask, very suddenly. "Yes, but she is in Melaka at the moment. Why do you ask?" I shrug and say, "I don't know. Just wondering." I think I understand the situation.

For the next few days, Dr. Allen acts weird. He doesn't know what medicine he is giving me, and won't answer my questions about him, me, or anybody else. He starts to give me more medication, and even gives me injections. I knew something was wrong. I was feeling more tired than usual, more ill, and had slight fevers throughout the day.

When Dr. Allen was leaving my room, he ran into one of the nurses, and I leaned against the door to listen.

"How is Lunas medication going?"

"Great. I think she is getting better."

"And her fevers?"

"I am pretty sure they are going away. At least she says so"

"See you. Well done!"

Lies. Now he is sucking up to the nurses and lying?

I sit back in my bed, mad at him and feeling betrayed, and still ill. What if this medicine is deadly? I begin to worry once again. A few hours later, Dr. Allen comes back. As soon as he closes the door I break. "Why are you going around lying, cheating on your girlfriend, giving me the wrong medication, and watching go ill? Then suck up to nurses and forget all of it?"

"If you say a word to anyone, you will regret it." he says, deeply and slowly. "What could you do?" "I could say anything. Who do you think people will believe? The mad patient or the doctor?" he says, then leaves.

I narrow my eyes and watch him close the door. Game on.

At about 3am, I woke up. For a second I forgot where I was, but then i remembered. Then I remembered what Dr. Allen said. I got up silently, and stood up to lift my mattress. I broke a wooden piece from the frame of the bed, and looked for a way out. The security guard had the keys to all rooms, so I called for him. "Sir, I had a nightmare. I need my anxiety medicine." I explained, and hid behind the door.

He opened the door after rattling the keys in the keyhole for a bit, and I came from behind the door and hit his head with the wooden plank. He dropped to the floor unconscious, and I left.

I found Dr. Allens room, and walked in. he had fallen asleep on his chair, in front of his laptop, where an unfinished game of online poker was. I woke him up and said "Good dream?" before hitting his head with the plank, but soft enough for him to still be conscious. I took his belt and tied up his hands. I took his pocket knife from his desk and slowly cut his legs. I made small cuts, but I knew they were painful. Use I made my way up, I said, "You say you have your word against mine. Well, soon you'll have no words to have.

I cut his chest, and dug the knife in the same spot for a minute, then told him, "Any last words?" and smiled. But before he could say anything, I slit his throat, and his choking noise gave me pleasure. I lifted the knife once more, and put it down his throat. I stood watching him die for a few minutes, then left.

The following day, we had group therapy. When we started, the woman asked where Dr. Allen was, and I shrugged innocently. I am not mad. I am just simply pernicious.