Leafy Green

Water Hemlock (pt 1)

I had been in and out of therapeutic hospitals in recent years. I'd gone to far this time, breaking several laws and "reaching the breaking point on my sanity," as my last therapist had said.

I was currently sitting with my parents, looking out the window in the crowded office as the dull echo of their voices becomes mere background noise.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts as both of my parents get up out of their seat and continuously thank the woman in the lab coat behind the cluttered desk; covered with manilla files and spreadsheets with various faces printed on each sheet. I assume they're other patients.

One photo catches my eyes, and I refuse to look away even when the woman calls my name numerous times. He's breath-taking, honey brown hair and enormous doe eyes. I try to get a closer inspection of the beautiful photo before it is mercilessly taken out of my view with the cover of the manilla folder.

"Cordelia," she says calmly, snapping my attention away from the cover and to her gruesome face, littered with lavender across her chin up to the underside of her ear.

I don't say anything, pretending to listen as I memorise her trail along her chin as I imagine ripping it straight out of her flesh, as I've done countless times before.

"The system here is stringent, one foot out of line and there will be serious consequences for you." The woman explains, trying her best to sound intimidating. "Different dorms are video and audio recorded at all times; they cover each corner of the room and the bathrooms down the halls that you will be escorted to. The cameras cover all grounds; no blind spots."

I look up into her eyes, slightly taking an interest in matching lavender colour of her irises.

"Your tendencies have been recorded, as have all other patients in this facility, so the staff here all know what you're capable of and will not hesitate to keep you in line, but only if they must. We don't want to hurt you; you're here to get better."

I hated how she and so many others before her, say that. They always say that. "You're here to get better," like disabling people and using fraud against their soulmates was an illness.

"The system allows for you to connect with other people, with the supervision of the minimum of 2 guards, although that may change depending on your attitude, during free time, breakfast, lunch and dinner times. There are four categories, and each patient is sorted into one of the four. You, Cordelia, are in the red category, meaning that you will have a guard or staff member supervising you at all time."

Their system is interesting, although I'm slightly offended by the fact that I don't get any privacy and the fact that they think that people can just be sorted into four categories.

"Green patients have mental disabilities and have a different meal time to everyone else so that they don't feel stressed or pressured by the other patients, although they still have the same free time hours and can be involved with other patients from different categories in the mixed group therapies, although most opt for one on one sessions.

Blue patients have a different kind of mental illness; green focuses on the severity of anxiety, bipolar disorder or depression, and other examples, but blue's focus on psychotic disorders, which make them hallucinate or do things because another part or 'voice' is telling them to. Most blues have a lack of impulse control and can get out of order easily.

Yellow patients suffer from dermatillomania; a disorder in which one picks or pinches at his or her skin, causing irritation and sores. Yellow patients also include other growing symptoms of other illnesses. There aren't many yellow patients because they usually get moved into different categories when their illnesses fully develop.