Make It Worth It

Chapter 3

“Good morning, Isaiah. How you feeling?” Says Nurse Rodriguez, “Would you like your breakfast?”

“Don’t ask me how I’m doing when I’m in a mental ward for trying to commit suicide, how do you think I’m doing?” I say back, this woman reminds me of my mother, asking stupid questions, “And I’m not eating today, this stupid drugs have my appetite gone.”

“Whoa, you’re a little grumpy. Bad dreams?” What the fuck? Bad Dreams? Bad. Dreams. Excuse me, that’s an oxymoron, bitch.

“Well, if you hadn’t asked such an idiotic question then you wouldn’t have gotten such an unpleasant reply.”

“Ha, you teenagers now a days. Think you have it so bad that you can say whatever you want because you’re young.” Must I remind here that I tried to commit suicide? What is she trying to say, that I’m ungrateful? I’m not as miserable as I’m making myself? Is she disrespecting me? Oh hell no, does this bitch want me to go crazy on her? I will go street.

“NURSE SHUT THE FUCK UP, OR I WILL KILL YOU. I know how to kill, I tried it on myself once.” Crap. Crap. Crap. God, I hate my temper. I thought as I saw the nurse’s face.

“Dr. Aubrey you need to work with Isaiah some more, he just threatened to kill me like how he tried to kill himself!” She ran out the room, screaming, like I’d pulled a gun on her or something. Ugh, I can’t deal with this anymore. For the fifth time this week, Dr. Aubrey and I had a therapy session. I explained what happened, she said she understood, when I knew for sure she didn’t. Then a nurse, thank God it wasn’t Rodriguez because I would’ve gotten so pissed. Talking with Dr. Aubrey calms me, even though what I’m saying is probably going straight through her like a bubble, just getting all my thoughts out helps.

“Isaiah, you were doing so well. This week has been completely bonkers, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know, I’ve been fed up with stuff. Or maybe it’s being locked inside these walls that I have my brain messed up. Can’t I take a day trip somewhere, I don’t care if it’s around the parking garage or to the London Eye, take me somewhere with fresh air.” As I said this, I watched Dr. Aubrey’s face, she went from interested to confused to worried as if she wanted to take me somewhere but she didn’t know where because I wasn’t really allowed anywhere more than 20 feet above ground level. After 5 minutes of silence, and pondering, she replied with, “How about the beach? You were to go there all the time before you started soccer right?”

“That’s not half bad, high-five, Aubrs.” I jokingly said, ‘cause Dr. Aubrey’s somewhere in her late 50s and her memory is decaying and I didn’t think she’d think about anything fun. Plus, I’m just mean and it was a perfect “insert mean joke that shall send me to hell” moment.

“Hey! I’m still a little young and hip.” I guess she didn’t sense my sarcasm, the beach, though? Really? You’ve got to be kidding me.

“I don’t like the beach though, I mean there’s nothing there it’s dead and boring. I’m actually quite jealous of the place. Psh, I’d do anything to be dead.” Doctor Aubrey shot me a look I’ll never forget, it’s that “Don’t play around with that subject” look. Ha! Ha! HA! I’ll talk about my suicide however and whenever I want to, mother-fucker. Try to stop me and I’ll actually try to commit again. You know, this power feels good: the power of controlling others, by making them be worried shitless about you, feels undeniable fucking good.