Ultraviolence

1. Delilah

The last 2 months have been a complete hell without my music, oh how i long for the closure of Blink 182 and Coldplay. I miss the days i spent with my headphones in and i couldn't hear my screaming. I scream to scare them away, scare the voices out of my head. I see people at night, they're coming for me. But why me ? Why be after me ? Why don't the pills do what they're suppose to? Why am I so different from the rest of theses people here ?

Oh yeah that's because i don't have any emotions and i scream in my sleep. My episodes scare them, all except him. His names Spencer and he's in here for antisocial personality disorder. He stares at me quite a bit and i always pretend like i don't notice his eyes burning my flesh. I just sit there not moving or speaking, but i sure as hell notice everything. Some of these things are that Lana plans on hiding a veggie burger in Alexia's room since she turned Lana in for taking plastic and cutting herself or how Violet has been sneaking cigarettes into her room and smoking them in the bathroom with Jenna and Bernice. I get that we have problems and these habits are hard to get rid of but all you have to do is play pretend in this hell and continue your trauma in the outside world. They'll never know, if you never tell.

You cant trust people in mental hospitals. The therapists and doctors take note of your friends and keep a close eye on cliques. I took mental notes when Lana, Suzanne, and nicolette became the " Bristol gang ". A month later, Suzanne was kicked out of Bristol because she was hoarding sugar packets and stealing therapy cigarettes. Her mother begged and payed extra for her to come back and she did, sadly. I never really fancied her, she never fancied me either because i'm a "screaming freak". We always glared or occasionally gave each other mental middle fingers when crossing paths. If you're under the age of 18, you have a choice of finishing your studies or focusing on recovery. You get more credits for being released if you take these classes and of course Suzanne did even though we already knew the doctors were waiting for an excuse to kick her out.

As much as I didn't feel like recovery, I will never and I repeat never will take those classes. They're just begging for you to relapse due to stress so they can "help" you even more. Help is not wanted here, not in this cell. These stone walls hide our truths from the world and they shield us from the real world where people will take advantage of the feelings I don't have. If you don't know what Schizophrenia is, It's a severe brain disorder. You have hallucinations, delusions, and lack the need to be social. I tend to say very little when forced to talk in therapy. Truth is... i'm shit with words. Before i was admitted, I always jumbled up my words and my sentences never made senses. Since then, I just quit talking all together for fear of the shame of not being able to talk "properly".

The lunch bell rang, but I didn't feel like moving. I didn't feel like dry chicken, watery mashed potatoes, and sour collared greens today. As high class this "recovery" center was the food sucked, and in a way reminded me of the food they served in school even though I dropped out half way through my eighth year.

" Why aren't you heading down for lunch, Delilah? ", A nurse asked, her name was Nancy. She was my assigned nurse, and she's in charge of making sure i'm taking care of my self. I just sat there not even making eye contact with her.

" One of those days, okay. I'll give you five minutes then i'll bring you up your lunch ", Nancy bit her lip slightly but her voice came out clear. She wanted the best for me as she said but I don't believe her. She's like the others, they want to watch me falter and humiliate myself in front of society. They want me to die.

When she left, I finally pulled myself together. If I wanna leave this hell hole I might as well try to be "social". Throwing on a faded grey cardigan and a pair of creepers, I made my way down the hall to the stairs of death. There was a girl who always sits on these stairs at night and during the day at lunch. She sells pills to the other patients for other pills that she's not assigned. That's a big thing here, not taking your pills and trading them for the ones you desire. Except this is risky business since if you get caught you're destine to be kicked out of Bristol and forced into a different recovery center. Pushing the door open, i catch a glimpse at her. She's sitting by the window and shes reading the bible. I bite my tongue and continue on my way.

" Finally out of your room, screaming demon? ", She says her voice was soft yet sharp like a razor blade. She looked up but I didn't return the gesture.

Instead I just acted as she had never spoken and kept going down the 3 other flights of stairs. There it was, the cafeteria. It was a buzz with chatter from the anorexic girls and bipolar guys. It seemed half of the girls here had some kind of eating disorder and the guys were either here for bipolar or ocd. Unlike them, there was a select few that were either here for anxiety, borderline personality disorder, schizophrenia, ptsd, or antisocial personality disorder like Spencer. He wasnt here, but knowing him he's probably getting in trouble for causing mischief and threating the rest of them. Waiting in line for sloppy food is like waiting in line for execution. Every second seems like an hour and every glance from others makes it harder to breath.

" Nice to see you, Delilah ", A lunchlady says giving a small smile that I only nod to. I hardly come to get my own lunch. Sure, Nancy said it's one of those days but usually I dont eat from the cafeteria since meat affects my immune system but today was different. My main doctor, Mr. Smith wasnt here so whatever Mrs.Bonamo said went. She wasn't fond of my screaming at the demons that plagued me but no one was. My feet seemed to drag across the floor as I launched myself in the corner away from people. Picking at the food on my tray, i pushed the mashed potatoes from side to side causing the potatoes to thin. I was brought out of my little world as I heard a tray hit the table and there he was, Spencer. He gave a small smile and sat down. No words were spoke, it was nice. The homicidal and the suicidal.