Don't Judge By The Cover

Chapter 11

Matt

     So.

     The Psych Ward.

     I hate it.

     It's full of crazy people. I'm not crazy. Far from it. I just don't feel like I belong here. Well I did. Now im ok. I want to live. It's that stupid voice inside that says that I need to die and everyone else would be better off without me... ok now I hear it.

     But these people are crazier than I am. They are seeing things. Like... weird things. Some poor girl saw her dead father walking around the other day. I feel bad for her, but at the same time, I want to stay far away from her. My life revolves around sleep, eat, therapy, and drawing. If someone would like to explain why they chose drawing, that would be great. They have a baseball class, but they chose drawing.

     I don't have many of my things here. I have my favorite blanket and my letterman jacket to keep me company, but nothing else. The walls are pale and the bedsheets are white, as well as the headboard. My dresser contains white shirts and pants. The shirts are long sleeved even in the summer, because others may have panic attacks when they see the scars on my wrists. And arms. And thighs. I also have to change in private because of the ones on my stomach. I honestly never noticed how many scars there were. I hated myself so much. God, how did I do that?

     Because you're worthless. And you don't need this help. No one can fix yo-

     I slammed my hand on the call button over and over again, until a small lady with long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and blue scrubs ran into my room. She quickly scanned the room for anything sharp or blunt, then she settled on me leaning against my wall with my hands pressed against my temples and breathing heavily. My now wide eyes looked at her in terror as the voice kept talking and getting louder. She came over and wrapped her arms around me as she pressed a button on my wall to call for Chris, the one nurse who could fully calm me down. She pulled towards the bed, but I struggled to keep us upright. Chris finally ran in the room and Amanda let me go so Chris could take her place.

     Chris. I've always been more comfortable with guys than girls. When I checked-in here, they asked me if I would prefer guy nurses or girl nurses. My mom gawked a little when I wrote guy, of course. I had smiled at her a little, and she shrugged it off. I just feel more comfortable with guys. Girls are never strong enough to calm me down, which is nothing against girls, they just don't help as much as guys. I have always felt safer when a guy is around. Like I don't have to be the one to protect myself because there is someone else I can run to. But, right now, I just needed Chris to come and talk me down off of this ledge I am currently standing on.

     "Hey, Matt. It's ok. I'm here, you're safe. The voice isn't going to hurt you remember? You have to ignore it. Look at me Matt."

    bI looked at him with pleading eyes, begging him to take the pain away. To get the voice to stop talking. I grabbed my whiteboard and scrawled out, Please get him out.

     "Matt, you know I can't. He isn't going to listen to me. I can't hear him. You have to fight him on your own. I know it's hard, but you have to trust me. You can beat him.  Just believe in yourself. You are stronger than you think."

      He placed his hands on my shoulders to pull me closer to him, then wrapped his arms around me as I started to shake with sobs. He tightened his hold when he felt my tears soaking his scrubs. Once I stopped shaking so much, he pulled me back and looked me in the eyes.

     "Matthias. You can beat this. The medicine will start working soon. Right now, let's focus on dinner. Do you know what we're having?"

     He started talking about everything under the sun that didn't involve therapy. He always knew how to get my mind off of things. Soon enough, I was smiling at him again. I was smiling at the world again.

Chris just had that power.