Helpless Feeling (Frerard)

Chapter 1

There's four beige walls, a thin mattress on top of a metal box that's nailed to the grey floor. A beam of light streamed into the room through a window too high to properly see out of. There's a desk pressed against the wall opposite the bed.

This is what I woke up to every morning, but that's okay. After spending a year living in this room, it's easy to forget what it's like in my old bedroom. I fell into a routine just like I would've outside the hospital. Sometimes, it's easy to forget that I'm here or even why. 

Finally you're up you lazy piece of crap. 

And then there's always that reminder that snaps me back into my reality. My nurse opens up the door and walks in with a tray of meds. She gives me a bright smile and sets the tray on the desk. 

"Morning Gerard." She handed me a small paper cup with a couple pills which I took along with water to help wash them down. "Ready for breakfast?" I got up and followed her out the room and down the hallway to the cafeteria. 

"I might be able to get you into the art room again today," she said with a side smile. I automatically perked up. She knew how much I loved to go there and submerse myself in a new project, especially when I was alone. "But.." I sighed. Of course there was a 'but.' "You can't skip your group session."

She chuckled when she heard me groan. She knew how much I hated group. Eventually, I nodded in agreement. The art room was worth going through an hour of torture. 

"I'll get you after group then." She gave another smile. 

"Thanks Lyn-Z." I was really lucky to have Lyn-Z as my nurse. She was one of the best employees in this hospital. She knew how much her patients hated being here, so she did the best she could to make us as comfortable as possible.

When we got to the cafeteria, I got in line and Lyn-Z joined the other nurses. I scanned the room stopping when I saw someone from my group. It made me dread going to group even more. 

I grabbed my tray, filling it with food, before heading to my table near the corner of the room. Two patients I regularly talk to were already there. 

"Hey Gerard," Brendon smiled up at me. I could see dark bags under his eyes. 

"Hey Brendon. Rough night?" Brendon dropped his head to his tray. He suffers from PTSD after losing his best friend in a fire. As a result, he had some hard nights that left him with no sleep. I put my hand on his shoulder and he looked up. 

"It'll get better. Trust me." I offered a smile which he returned. Across the table, I could see Pete rolling his eyes. He was in here because he had a serious anger problem that got him into quite a bit of trouble. He beat up a man after they were being rude to his boyfriend and didn't apologize. 

"Are you going to group today?" I gave him a smile and nodded. "Are you gonna talk?" I shrugged and stabbed my fork into my eggs. I didn't like talking in group. I never saw what good it did spilling my problems out to a handful of people with their own problems. 

"Why are you here then?" Pete asked irritatedly. I looked over to see him gripping his fork, bending it in the middle. "You don't do anything they offer to help us. We're all trying to meet societies social standards so we can leave and go back to our normal lives. Why do you act like you don't care?" 

They won't help. He's trying to trick you and make me go away, Gee. We can't trust him.

I shook the voice away. The pills don't really do much but lower my risk of blacking out. Brendon and Pete don't know exactly why I'm here because I'm able to keep myself composed most of the time. They know I sometimes get put in isolation but don't know that I wrecked a room when no one was around right before.