I wake up in a hospital. A white ceiling above me and an IV at my side. I reached to touch my face only to realize my arms were restrained by two leather cuffs. My mouth feels dry and I feel weird, like I'm not all here. I glance around the room taking in my surroundings when i feel a stab of pain at my side. Then it all comes flooding back to me. Although I still can't remember who's arms where around my neck I can only piece together that someone knocked me out due to my fit. I'm assuming it was a teacher. I'm to drugged to really care about it at this point, although on a regular biases I would've freaked at the touch of a stranger.
A young woman came in with a clip board in her hand. She introduced her self as Kim and said she would be taking care of me today.
"So Alister, would you like to tell me what happened?" She asked clicking her pen.
I thought about how the blood wouldn't stop, how I dug my fingers into my side in hopes of getting rid of the blood that kept pouring out and the despair when only more of it came, the overwhelming panic, my stained shirt, Tommy and the blade. Tommy.
" I don't remember." I lied.
She frowned and wrote something down.
" So you don't remember anything at all? School? Lunch? What happened at lunch? surely you must remember something."
" I remember walking down the hall way and then I woke up here. That's all."
She continued to write.
" Well Alister, judging by the witnesses looks like you gave yourself that wound. Any reason as to why you might do that?" She pressed on.
" Witnesses?" I asked
" Yes a young boy in a muscle shirt claims he found you screaming and thrashing against some lockers frantically scratch at your side, he then says he approached you and noticed a significant amount of blood, he attempted to calm you down but when you reacted violently he got you in a head lock and knocked you out. He got help and that's how you ended up here. Are you certain you don't remember anything?"
" No I'm sorry."
Muscle shirt? Could it have been Justin? Nah there are plenty of guys who wear muscle shirts.
" I'm just going to have to ask you a few more questions, then we can call your parents and you can go home. The wound wasn't to deep a few stitches did it. We don't have to keep you over night." She wrote something down again. " Have you ever had depression?"
" Yes m'am."
"How severe? Did you take anything for it?"
" Doctors said it was severe and prescribed selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors, I came off them a year ago."
"Do you take anything else?"
" Zoloft and Anti-depressants"
" Have you ever tried to physically harm yourself before?"
" Yes m'am, I loose control during my panic attacks." I felt the embarrassment and heat rose to my face.
" Have you ever tried to kill yourself?'
" No M'am"
" Alright well that's everything for today. Your parents will be here soon."
Laying there on that bed, with my hands cuffed to the sides. I wanted to scream, why did I have to be such a bother? Was it too much to ask to be normal? How I envied those kids who could get through the day without timing their actions perfectly, without eating the same thing everyday, without taking so many pills and being a danger to them selves. They had friends, they could hang around all day without a care in the world. They could wake up at anytime do whatever they wanted during the day and come home at a different hour every night. What I would give to do that. I felt so ashamed of my self.
