𝐴 𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑇𝑦𝑝𝑒 𝑂𝑓 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 ♥︎

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 1

Mentions suicide and depression

October 12th, 1965

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!" I screamed while banging on the door of the room in the mental facility. No matter how hard my fist hit the bulletproof steal or how high and loud my vocal cords could be, no one came.
No one was coming. No one cared. No one would save me.

My fist hurt and were bruised, my face was damp with my tears that continued to flow, and my throat felt like it was on fire. I slumped against the wall next to the window made from bulletproof glass; my only way of seeing the outside world. People might wonder why I'm in here, well I have severe depression and I couldn't live in this world anymore. I sat in my bathroom floor, contemplating rather or not I wanted to do this; I couldn't think of anything to live for in this world. My family hated me because I like women rather than men, I had no friends, I was in debt. What could I bring to the world that anyone else couldn't? Oh that's right... nothing.

I pressed the razor blade to my wrist and quickly cut broke the skin over and over again until most of both my arms were covered in cuts and dripping blood. I fell to the floor with a thud and my vision started to fade, and the last thing I heard was the screams of my mother who came to see what the commotion was about. When I woke up all of my cuts were stitched up and my arms were strapped to the hospital bed I resisted on. I tugged and pulled on the leather straps but they wouldn't budge. After my stitches were removed and my arms were fully healed they throw me in a truck and sent me to this hell whole.

I stared out of the window trying to remember what the sun felt like on my skin and the wind in my hair, when the door to my room opened to reveal and gorgeous nurse. She wore the classic all blue nurse gown that they all wore but she made it look like it was designer, her brown her was put up in the back, her plump lips were coded in a orange red lipstick, and her brown eyes were caught mine as I scanned her face and slim body.

"Who are you?" I asked in a whisper tone.
"My name is Mildred Ratched, but you are only to know me as Nurse Ratched." She said. Her voice was raspy and yet so hot. I felt like a puddle just hearing her voice. I nodded my head and faced the window again pulling my knees up the my chest.
"I don't want to be here." I whispered to myself.
"Well that's too bad, isn't it?" She remarked while pulling a cart full of pills into the room. She put a few bottles of medication on sets them on my nightstand then opens them and pulls out one or two pills out of each and puts them each in a small paper cup with a plastic cup of water on a tray and sets it in front of me.

"I'm not taking those."
"I'm not going to force them down your throat. Take them." This nurse Ratched woman was starting to annoy me. She may be pretty but god she's harder than a rock.
"No." I push the tray way from me and go back to looking out the window.
"Take the goddamn pills."
"And what if I don't? What are you gonna do about it?" She stayed silent for a few seconds before I spoke up again.
"What, are you deaf?"
"No, just thinking about what I'm going to do about it." She gave me a look that had no emotion at all. Like a resting bitch face. My heart dropped to my asshole and my eyes went wide.

"When I come back those spills better be gone." Then she walked out with the cart of pills then locked my door, giving me one final look before continuing down the hall.

"What in the world?"