Closed Out

The world outside is dark. Thick, grey clouds hang in the air, weighed down by the water they hold. It will rain soon. My chair is turned so I can look out the tall windows, still stained with water droplets from previous rain showers. Behind the glass, a garden stretches out, and beyond them brick buildings rise into the air like statues making a statement of their superiority. The gardener hasn't come in a while, which is evident from the gravel paths that need weeding, and the plants growing out of bounds. The violets and roses stand no chance against the threatening clouds. Their colours do little to life up the garden, or my mood.

I have been sitting in this particular chair for five hours. My eyes have not left the view out of the window. Nurses stop to ask if I want to chat or need anything. The answer is short and simple: "No.". They try to get me to engage with the activities the other patients are participating in, but to no avail. My bottom is glued to the chair. Even the promise of a game of chess is not enough to persuade me to move.

I have no appetite for foolish games or stimulating conversations. My mind is entirely on the world outside the window, outside the psych ward. Like a ghost looking for their loved one, my mind speeds back home, where my family is having dinner without me. Where my friends are creating inside jokes I will never understand.

The clouds part, and through them shines the sun, casting broken rays on the garden, which starts to sparkle. A million diamonds resting on the lush greenery. The light is overwhelming and brings tears to my eyes. Still, I can't bring myself to look away. What if the world around me has changed? If my eyes stay on the garden, I won't know.

The gap in the thick blanket of clouds fills up again and, like the breaking of the dams, water pours from the sky. The rain clatters against the windows, distorting the view, and creating small waterfalls running down the glass. The volume of the patients' conversations picks up. They are trying to make themselves heard over the sound of the rain. A nearby nurse comments on the sudden violent downpour.

"It's just a spot of rain!" a voice from the back of my mind calls out. I close my eyes, the voice of my best friend bringing back memories I had ordered myself not to remember. But I can't resist recounting the day I knew Sky will always have my back.

It had been raining all day, but not quite like it did during recess. The teachers instructed us to stay inside, otherwise falling branches -- torn from the trees with force -- might injure us. The unfortunate news had sent me further down a spiral of sombre thoughts. I had been looking forward to running the sadness out of my system. But I was stuck in a classroom, filled with children who needed some form of physical activity.

Sky, my best friend, and shoulder to cry on, walked toward me and sat down, her hair bouncing with every step. She was the first girl in our class to have hair that didn't reach her shoulders. 12 years old, and she was already allowed to wear highlights. Granted, they were nearly the same colour as her real hair, but the girls in our class had been shocked and intrigued. Light blonde streaks mixed with the darker colour of her hair, and at the end, the hair twisted.

"You don't look happy," Sky stated, her brow creased. It was often in that state when she looked at me. Her eyebrows were attracted to each other much like magnets pulled to one another.

"Recess was the moment I could get away from class. Now, I'll be stuck here." I only made eye contact with Sky once, which was unlike me. Normally, I would stare Sky down. I would analyse her facial features and connect them to an emotion. I wasn't scared of what she thought of me, but I needed to know if she understood -- if she could handle -- my words.

"There is nothing else?" Sky tilted her head, the magnets on her forehead pulled away from each other. She asked it with such a sweet, innocent voice. There was hardly a reason for me to reply; she already knew the answer.