psych ➳ muke

0.9

Visiting hours start at six o' clock. I am not expecting anyone to come to visit me, why would they? Four days ago, I passed out in the back of the ambulance. Four days ago, I failed at killing myself. Day two in the ward and no one had called to check on me. No one had come to visit me since the emergency room.

Does anyone care?

I have barely made an effort to make friends in my short amount of time here. Other than Michael, I haven't spoken directly to any other patient. An hour ago, during a bit of free time, I attempted to play a game of cards with Levi. But Levi's OCD only made me stress more, I couldn't keep up and we had to end the game.

I am watching cartoons when Lacy, a staff member, comes in to inform me I have a visitor. I glance around the room, thinking I must have misheard her. Whom would be visiting me? I exit the room and follow her to the cafeteria. Michael is asleep in our room, so I am unable to meet there, although I wish I could. He was released from seclusion awhile ago and retreated straight to our room. He didn't speak to anyone, didn't make eye contact. Upon entering the room, I immediately see her.

My mother.

Lacy motions for me to go over, I hesitate. I can refuse to see her, but she has already spotted me and I would feel bad leaving now. So, I go to her. Slowly, but surely. I sit down across from her, keeping my eyes adverted to the brown table.

"Luke..." she starts, reaching out for my hand.

I jerk my hand away, eyes shooting up to look at her. Don't touch me. You aren't allowed to touch me. I wish I could scream, let all of my pent up emotions out, but I can't. Because there are other people in the room and they would hear me. They would know. And I can't let them know.

"Why are you here?" I mutter, my teeth grinding together, holding back what I truly want to say.

She sighs, "To see you, Luke. You are my son."

I want to tell her that I'm not her son anymore. That her son was gone a long time ago, that I'm different now. It's her fault, anyways. She did this to me.

"I don't understand... I don't understand why you did this to yourself."

Of course you don't! I'm trying so hard to keep it all in, to not break in front of her. Don't you cry, don't you dare fucking cry. I look at her, my hands shaking.

"If you paid any attention to me, even the slightest, you would know." I choose my words carefully, my jaw clenched so tight it hurts.

She bites her lip, a habit I picked up from her, and studies me. I wish she would stop. I want her to go away and to never come back.

"You don't talk to me anymore."

I scoff, taken aback by her words. Maybe if you actually listened to me when I did try, things wouldn't be this way.

"I tried. You stopped listening, stopped caring. You can't do that!" I'm screaming now, my fists bunched together, "Just because Dad died doesn't mean I don't exist!"

My chest is heaving, I can't catch my breath. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. She stares at me and I wish I could hit her. Smack that dumbfounded look off of her face. She knows! She isn't fooling me. She realizes she has emotionally neglected me, but she won't admit it. That would make her look bad and God forbid she did. Louise is standing in the doorway, supervising us now. I'm sure the whole floor heard my screaming, they'll all wonder why I'm acting out.