Out of This World

Chapter Two

"Your mental health should be your first priority."

I looked over at my mother, who was visibly growing increasingly uncomfortable, sitting in a cushioned chair that sunk too deep.

"Told you so."

I knew I wasn't it was petty of me, but I couldn't help myself. It was nice to have someone validate what I was trying to tell my family.

This hospital was unlike the others. They seemed to care, or at least they put on a really good facade, and it had been ten minutes and no one had given me a shot or strapped me down - yet.

That always came later.

I closed my eyes and prayed that maybe, just maybe, when I opened them I'd all of a sudden be somewhere different. Anywhere, as long as it wasn't here. Somewhere where there wasn't a hospital with the friendly staff and overly cushioned chairs, somewhere that didn't involve sitting next to my mother while she shot me disapproving glances, somewhere where I wasn't wanting to jump out the windows that I was sure didn't open for just that reason.

"One...two...three..." I whispered to myself, quiet enough that my mother couldn't hear. It was my silly little trick, something I'd tell myself when I wanted to disappear. Ever since I was a little girl, if I couldn't be somewhere anymore I'd squeeze my eyes shut and count to three.

As if I was Dorothy and could just will my way back home.

It never worked, though. I would have to have a home for that to happen, and all I had was a house that sometimes, when I was a little less unhealthy, I'd visit.

Still, every time I walked in for the intake, something that only confirmed each time that I wasn't walking out the front doors any time soon, that a miracle would happen.

But when I opened my eyes, there was no home staring back at me. Nothing was different - except the expression on my mother's face.

"I wish you would stop doing that," she sighed.

I wished she would stop dragging me around the state as if I was competing in some bullshit mental hospital pageant, but here we were.

"So, Marina," Dr. Watts said, interrupting the awkward silence, "tell me what's going on with you."

"I jumped off the roof. Isn't that in my chart?"

"That's not what I meant," Dr. Watts said softly, "what's going on with you in there?"

She pointed at my chest, and I realized she wanted to know what my heart felt like. How typical.

Great, she was one of those doctors. The ones that act like they want to heal you from the inside out.

Her office definitely made it seem that way, anyways. I was sure that it was intended to have a calming effect on patients, but all it did was make me anxious.

Again, I wondered if that window behind her desk opened.

There was a beach theme going on.

Rather, a dolphin theme. They were everywhere.

Little figurines on her desk, paintings on the walls. The walls were blue, and to top it all off, there were those cliche quotes on canvases plastered everywhere, saying things like "this is the first day of the rest of your life" and "breathe in, breathe out."

It made me want to puke.

"God, I'm gonna slit my wrists," I mumbled, forgetting for a second where I was.

"Excuse me?" my mother snapped, glaring at me. She knew I wasn't serious - she knew when I was, I never talked about it first.

"Nothing," I said, looking at the ground. I could tell that Dr. Watts was looking at me inquisitively. What was she going to do? I was already being hospitalized, there wasn't really anything else that could happen to me.