Obscurity

Chapter 1: Intake

Alma

"Do you feel the urge to hurt yourself or others?" She stops jotting her notes and looks over her clipboard to me waiting for my response.

"Of course I don't feel like hurting anyone - or myself." I blow my bangs out of the way of my eyes. Tapping my foot impatiently, I watch as she jots some more on her paperwork. I notice her nail polish is peeling a bit.

It's silent for moment between us and I survey the lobby area I was placed in two hours ago, for the umpteenth time. The worn dark green carpet with its busy pattern is in stark contrast to the beige walls, sporadically decorated with generic art and photographs of things like beaches and sailboats. There is no rhyme or reason to this decor.

The lobby area of this building has a security guard behind a windowed-in area and I noticed upon my arrival that the doors buzzed and locked behind me. When I got here, I didn't worry. I knew they would see that I'm not crazy, and I would be allowed to leave as soon as I let them ask their questions. That was hours ago.

This woman before me, scribbling endlessly on her paper, has asked me upwards of a hundred questions since I arrived here. All leading back to or suggesting I'm sort of threat to myself or others. I'm not. I've answered everything the same way, honestly. I'm beginning to think she doesn't believe me. She doesn't believe a word coming out of my mouth. I begin to wonder what it is about me that is making her not trust what I am saying.

The elevator across the waiting area dings and two men in white scrubs step out and wait by it. The shorter of the two, average in height and a bit thick around the middle stands to the right of a much taller, crane-like man. Both dressed in all white uniforms. The taller man holds his arm inside the door of the elevator to keep it from closing. They're looking in our direction. Of course they are, we're the only ones here. It's the middle of the night and I'm sitting here playing two hundred questions with Miss Nail Biter.

Nail Biter stops scribbling and scans over her work. She clicks her pen shut and looks up at me with a professional smile. "I think that'll be all for tonight. We can pick this up in the morning. I'd like to extend a request for you to stay here a day or two to see if we can figure out what's going on with you."

"No, I think we've covered just about everything. I'm fine. I'm going home tonight." I politely decline. Looking over to the elevator, she nods at the two nurse-figures, and they begin to walk in our direction.

"I have recommended a mandatory stay to assess your mental health, and this is a request, not a voluntary stay. You will be escorted upstairs to our in-patient mental health floor where we can better address your needs." She says with an air of authority.

My jaw drops. "You have got to be kidding me." I get up from my seat, arms crossed and stare at her in disbelief. Just as I'm about to turn toward the doors to try and leave, two different sets of cold fingers wrap around my arms on either side and start guiding me toward the elevator. The absurdity of the situation rendering me in total shock.

The intake officer follows closely behind. "You will be further assessed in the morning. For tonight, get some sleep. We can pick up where we left off after breakfast." She smiles curtly and hands a file to one of the nurses.

"Thanks, Brenda. We'll take it from here." The short nurse says as she hands him the file.

"Have a good one, gentlemen." She nods to the other nurse.

She turns toward a hallway of what I guess are offices as the taller nurse puts a key into a slot where an elevator button should be. Locks. They lock the elevator and no one can call it without a key. Great.