psych ➳ muke

0.5

At 5:00 sharp, we leave the comfort of our rooms to have dinner in the cafeteria. It's a small room, only holding two sinks and four round tables, but there aren't many of us. I wash my hands carefully, lathering with too much soap. The line behind Levi is backed up. He's washed his hands three times now and still has two more to go. I've noticed he does things in fives, an affect of his disorder. But I don't judge.

I sit at a table in the back, slightly isolated, alone. I don't feel like talking to anyone, I just want to eat and retreat back to my room. Michael didn't come to dinner with the rest of us, but I didn't bother to ask why.

When a frazzled nurse comes in, stating that we need to lock the door, I find out why.

And then I hear the screams.

They start off slow. One emitting every so often, but they pick up. Its a male's voice, shouting obscenities. I flinch at the words. They are so harsh.

It's Michael having an episode.

His voice is no longer soft or sweet. It doesn't flow nor is it the sweet vanilla from before. It's loud and intimidating. A loud crash rings out and the screaming stops.

I'm scared. I've never felt such a way. Part of me wants to cower while another wants to run to Michael's aide.

And I find myself crying.

The patients around me don't seemed phased, as if this has become normal to them.

Is it normal? Does this happen often?

The nurse, who had burst in, comes to sit next to me. But I'm already shaking, sobs are racking through my body. And I can't control it.

"Luke, I need you to listen to me. Everything is going to be okay, the door is locked. He can't get in. You're safe."

But what she doesn't realize is, I'm not afraid of Michael. I do not fear him bursting through the door and harming me.

I'm scared for him. I internally question what set him off.

Is he hearing things? Is something telling him to act out?

The screaming continues. I can't make out what he's saying, but its loud and strangled. Almost desperate. As if he is pleading for help.

And I surprise not only myself, but every occupant in the room, when I scream, "Why isn't anyone helping him?"

I stand quickly. I feel as if I don't have control of my own body. I don't think, I just do. I knock my chair backward and pick up my food tray. Its tossed across the room before I can stop myself. The nurses are quick to act, grabbing my arms and hands, urging me to calm down.

But I can't. And I'm angry. And I find myself crying again.

I make it to the door before I sink down, body crumpling to the floor in a mess of limbs.

"Somebody help him!"

I don't realize it's me speaking, until a nurse comes to sit beside me. Assuring me that there are doctors helping Michael, that he will be sedated and left to rest. That he will be okay.

And I wonder then, why I care so much about a stranger.

• • • • • • • • •

So, that happened.

Both boys had a bit of a breakdown.

Q: Why do you think Luke reacted the way he did?