Institutionalized

Howie, Day 11

"GOOD MORNING ALL, LET US BEGIN THE DAY! RISE AND SHINE MY FRIENDS!"

I groaned as that cock Rafael screamed. It felt like I had just fallen asleep. It was getting easier to sleep on this bed, though‍, which was good because I thought I might go crazy myself if I didn't get some soon. I laid there for a little while longer until Ashley came in told me to get up now or I'd be in trouble. I didn't say anything, but I sat up and rubbed my face. She left me to it, since the next thing I had to do was change my clothes. I stood up, grabbed them from outside and put them on. I realized my shirt was on backwards so I flipped it around. Heading toward the common room, I slowed down as I passed Mac's room. He wasn't in there as far as I could see, so I kept walking. I found him sitting in a bean bag staring into space. That made me a little worried, but not too much. He was safe here, surrounded by doctors, and he most likely wouldn't cause any problems if he was having an episode, which was unlikely; I watched him take his medicine every day and every night, and so did Rafael. It could have just been that he was tired. Still, I pulled another bean bag up next to him.

"Hey man, you there?"

Mac looked over and nodded.

"For now at least. I need your help."

He was whispering, so I whispered back.

"Why? What's going on?"

Mac started to blink more,

"I had a nightmare last night about Them. When I woke up I heard a deafening angry cry that gave me a panic attack; you didn't hear it did you?" He rushed his words like he was still having one.

I frowned,

"No, sorry. I slept pretty good last night, I didn't wake up until this morning when Rafael forced me to. Do you think it was a hallucination?"

He rubbed his eyes, trying to stop his tic. He stopped because it was very uncomfortable to do that.

"I don't know. I'm taking my all my meds, I can't see how I could be getting sick. It could have been real." he murmured.

"So what if it is?" I asked, genuinely wanting to know why it bothered him so much.

"... I feel unsafe," he started, "People here can say whatever they want you to think about how they got here. At least one person here has killed someone— I mean, possibly. The people that hunt me, they hunt everyone. I want to be normal, Howie. I just want to live a normal life."

I sighed. If only I could give him a hug.

"Listen to yourself, Mac. You should talk to Rafael about this, you seem to be heading down a bad path. They don't exist, I promise you. And no one can hurt you here. There are guards and doctors everywhere, so you're safe."

Mac was right. Everyone could say anything they wanted. It was possible that there was a murderer in here. But that train of thought points to paranoia, especially with the other things he said.

"But I don't know if I can trust him. What if I'm correct and I just tell him, and then he knows I'm on to him? He could change my meds, convince me that I'm wrong, make up lies to cover it up. Are you sure I'm losing it again? How could I be? I'm on meds still."

The fear in his voice and in his eyes hadn't left. He didn't believe me yet.

"I'm pretty sure that stressful situations can cause episodes. Or maybe your body is building an immunity to zyprexa. I'm not sure why, but I do think we should take this seriously. I'll talk to him for you if you want." I offered.