Mentally Broken

4

Chapter song: Drown by BMTH
(Justin's pov)
-Friday, 8am-
We are led into the meeting/hangout room, where we're seated on cold, plastic chairs.
"What is this?" Mia whispers, mostly to herself.
"Group meeting." Unnoticeably, I flinch at her whisper. It reminds me of the voices that torment me at night. Unaware of my actions, I start to scratch the bottom of my plastic chair until one of the nurses puts my hands back in my lap. I don't know how to fix my stupid head. I'm so fucked up, and I don't want to be here. I've only been here for 3 days, and I hate it so much. I'm here all because of a variety of reasons.

First, I killed my girlfriend for cheating on me. She cheated on me with my best friend. My best friend. It sounds harsh, but I tend to take things the wrong way. Nobody knows I killed anyone.
Second, she called me crazy. She said there was something really wrong with my head. I know it's true. I know....but I can't help it. It's a mental problem. It hurts. She meant so much to me, and she betrayed me. She only made my life worse. This place isn't helping either.
Thirdly, I'm here for reportedly "talking to the wall" and "disturbing the neighborhood with my unusual behavior."
Apparently, I have schizophrenia, but some people simply say
I'm crazy. It's true, but I'm not sure how I ended up with it. The voices aren't technically in my head, at least they don't sound like they are. They come and go, but mostly come at night. I overheard the nurses say that I'm a Paranoid Schizophrenic. They say I'm not "as bad" as the others, because I socialize pretty well. In my opinion, I honestly don't think I can get any worse than this. They say I have schizophrenia. But I'm not sure how I ended up in the Depression level. I guess Schizophrenia isn't the only label on me.
I don't know why I'm like this. It's probably because of my dark past. My parents are both dead. My dad died in a car crash a year ago, and my mom committed suicide two years ago.
"I don't know why." All I know is that this isn't a very helpful place to be, even if I want to get better.

"Ok, let's get started. Since we have a few new people, we're gonna go over the rules and procedures..." Ugh, here we go again. There are about 10 other people in here. Some are talking to themselves, like me. Some are laughing and crying and moving their chairs around like they're incapable of staying still.
"Rule #1: You do exactly what we tell you in an obedient manner. Any other behavior will not be accepted, and you'll be sent to the quiet room..."
That sounds better than being here. I've heard people talking about the quiet room, and it doesn't sound too bad. It's just an empty room where you sit in utter silence.
"Rule #2: You must ask permission for everything. You may not get anything by yourself..."
In others words, it's another way of saying that they don't trust us. As much as I'd love to be left alone, I can't blame them. Half of us would either literally kill each other or ourselves if we were left alone.
"Rule #3: No touching anyone. Respect other peoples' space. No physical contact in here..."
The lady explains boringly.
"Next topic, Respect. We must learn to respect ourselves and other people..."
I don't think Mia is paying attention, neither am I. I wonder why she's in here. I'm not gonna ask her that, because I barely know her.
Mia seems nice to me. Her personality is naturally sweet. She has darker hair than I do, and a set of beautiful brown eyes. Her eyes don't seem happy, not even the slightest. "They seem depressed and worn out," I mutter from my thoughts.
Her lips find it difficult to smile. Her bones are like needles trying to tear through her skin. She has a pale complexion, and her eyes have bags under them. It's actually very common in this place, exhaustion. Her lips have no color to them, but they're still able to look good on her. She's a pretty girl with a warm personality.

After the long lecture, we all get to hang out. It's just like the cafeteria except we can do more stuff in here. I sit against the wall and stare in front of me, thinking about that night.
"You're crazy. You're crazy. You're crazy...." I mutter repeatedly to myself, placing all the blame on nobody else but me. Mia is sitting beside me, playing with her jacket sleeves.
"Hey, I see you're new here. I'm Jake," Jake, another patient in here, approaches us, talking to Mia and smirking at her.
If there's one thing I know about Jake is that he's up to no good. He's in here for drug abuse and bipolar disorder. He looks at Mia with greed and desire. I stop muttering and listen to their conversation with my eyes still fixed in front of me.
"Hi, I'm Mia. Nice to meet you," Mia greets him with a shy smile. He's up to no good. I just know it.
"He's bad news," I mutter uncontrollably.