Asleep or Dead

Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Mentions of suicide & self harm

- Clare's POV -

Fuck them. Fuck those ugly ass doctors. Fuck those useless therapists.

I don't need help.

I'm completely fine.

I would never hurt Frank. That was a one-off. I couldn't control myself, I had no idea what I was doing.

They have no right to detain me. Who gave them permission to drag me further into this mental hospital. Mom would never do that. She wouldn't and I know it.

They threw me into this room that had a bed, a bedside table and a chair. There wasn't a bathroom, which was quite disappointing. 

What was even worse was that I had to be escorted to the bathroom which was all the way down the hall. And it is quite humiliating once you've done it six times already.

It was my only way to escape my "cell" every once in a while. But they stopped believing that I had to go to the bathroom every twenty minutes, which sucked.

Right now, I'm lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling. You have no idea how many times I have counted the dirt marks on the cream coloured wall above me.

If you wanted to know, it's 1,963. That is the exact number, and I know that because I have spent 96 hours and seven minutes lying on this hospital bed alone, recounting the marks. I may have miscounted and got 1,9600, but I know that isn't right.

This is the only thing that passes the time, which is a shame. They didn't even give me some paper to draw on or at least a book to read.

I'm bored out of my mind. This might be the reason I'm going mad. I told you, it's not my fault. It's theirs. 

I heard the sound of the door unlocking and I shot up, jumping off the bed. 

The nurse that has been escorting me to the bathroom and giving me food stood out in the hallway. She gave me a kind smile, which I think was genuine and not fake. 

"Where am I going?" I immediately asked. I always knew that whenever they opened the door, I would be taken somewhere. Whether it would be for tests for new self harm cuts or just to check up on me.

However, the nurse didn't answer; she just beckoned me to follow her. I didn't question it and obliged.

I shuffled behind the nurse down the maze of hallways of the facility like a lost puppy. We ran into a few other patients that were also being escorted elsewhere.

After making eye contact with a boy with messy, and slightly greasy, black hair, I decided to look down at the floor. 

He had the coldest stone cold stare you could ever imagine. As soon as his eyes locked with mine, I was sure he was staring right into my soul. And I've only met a few people with that same glare. He had bags under his eyes and he seemed to have not taken a shower in quite a while. 

I think I can vaguely remember a couple of patients and doctors talking about someone named Gerard, or Gerald?

I dunno.

They said that he was one of the most dangerous patients here. He apparently hardly talked or cooperated and tried to kill himself once. That seems a bit extreme, but I don't know what goes on inside his head. I caught a glimpse of his file when we were walking past one of the offices a few days back. 

Did I just make eye contact with the Gerard?

I was pulled out of my thoughts as we took a step into a familiar room. The most hated place in this entire hospital.