Endless: REWRITTEN

18. Tiger's Eye

Natalie

Why is he such a fucking idiot?

Only one day after Mordecai showed me the letter about Robin's admittance to the hospital, I'm driving over there to knock some sense into his dense fucking head. The letter happened to be very detailed, especially in his reasons for going:

Your loved one has been admitted for the following reasons:

Suicide watch

Medication adjustment

Counselling

It seems like every time I turn around, Robin is doing something to turn heads. Whether he's pacing outside my window or crying on the way home from the bar or having a hypomania episode. It's almost comical how much shit this man has put me through in the month and a half I've known him. Yet, it still doesn't compare to the shit my ex-husband has put me through, and if I had to choose between the two, I'd take Robin any day of the week.

But I don't have to choose. And yet... I think I still did.

I walk into the pristine facility and fill out a visitors form. Then I get a nametag and the guards confiscate my entire purse. Apparently, for inpatients on suicide watch, I can't have anything on me that can be used for self-harm. One of the guards escorts me to a table, and he tells he's going to stay there for the entire visit. It's just protocol. Protocol, my ass.

Through the heavy metal door comes Robin. His face contorts into confusion when he sees me and it takes everything in me not to hit him upside the head when he sits across from me at the table. The guard standing not even a foot away would have a fit.

"I didn't think you would come," he smiles. The look in his eyes is slightly unfocused and dazed and it makes me a little anxious.

"Are you okay? Like, right now?" I question.

"They just gave me medicine. It hits a little strong at first, but it should wear off soon."

"Oh..." I take a breath. "How about overall?"

"Peachy," he answers. "I have therapy every day, plus group therapy twice a week. I take medication three times a day with every meal. But I don't have to worry about a thing. No laundry days, no cooking, no working, just talking and watching TV and sleeping. It's like a vacation! Or prison. But I like this better. I'm basically high all the time."

"I..." I take another breath. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

"I mean, don't get me wrong. I still fucking hate it here with every fiber of my being, but positives, right? Sunny side up, right?

"Robin...what happened?"

"You mean it's not in the newspaper yet?" he frowns. "Well, 'local man tries to kill himself, fails, and then gets sent here'. Not that exciting, right?"

"You did what?" I exclaim loudly.

"Please don't yell at the patient," the guard snaps at me.

"Was this because we broke up?"

"Not entirely. I mean, you definitely were a factor, but I've been suicidal for fifteen years, Natalie. Every now and then, I get so depressed that I try it. I mean, this is the second time I actually tried to do it, but I've written twelve notes, wrote up five plans, and one time, I took the metal out of my razor to slit my wrists. But that shit hurts, so I got scared."