Mentally Broken

5

Chapter song: Breathe Me by Sia.
(Justin's pov)
-Friday, 8pm-
It's 8pm, which means we should start going to bed. In other words, we need to prepare for another restless night. Mia and I go our separate ways in order to use the men's and women's bathroom. There's a long line for the bathroom. Only 4 people can use the bathroom at a time, because nobody trusts us in this hell-hole.
"I've gotta piss so bad," someone speaks behind me, and it makes me interested in such a random comment. I sneak a glance behind me to see a guy about my age who's acting antsy. Doing him a favor, I step back for him to cut in front of me.
"Oh, thanks, man." Chuckling, he smiles at me, and I nod kindly.
"I'm no good." Even when I do favors, I still feel terrible. I mutter to myself. After the guy goes to the bathroom, he thanks me again.
"Name's Xavier, but I prefer to be called Za," he grins welcomely, appearing to have a friendly personality. He has darker skin than me and short, black hair.
"Justin," I nod softly and give him a sorry excuse for a smile.
"Nice to meet you Justin. Too bad we're not in the same group. Maybe we can talk more," he suggests before it's my turn to use the bathroom.
(Mia's pov)
I go to use the bathroom and guess what? There's someone on duty to watch us! I mean, I can see that they're making sure we don't cut or throw ourselves up, but why? What do they have against eating disorders? They're not helping at all. If anything, they're making it worse by having us go against our will. Ugh! Why do I have to be here?!

I miserably sigh and enter our room to see Justin already here, sitting cross-crossed on his bed. Pulling down my sleeves, I smile weakly at Justin's painting on my side of the wall and my painting on his side of the wall. I hope we're starting off on good terms. I don't want to scare anyone away.
I lay on my hard, uncomfortable bed and hide myself under the ineffective blanket and pillow.
I'm miserable. Why did my mom bring me here? I could've helped myself, right? I don't need this. There were plenty more solutions to this. I start to cry from the hurt and loneliness. I hate everything. I hate myself. I should've locked that damn door and killed myself, shot my brains out. All it would've taken was 15 seconds. I wouldn't fucking be here if I would've gone through with it.
-Saturday, 2am-
I hear scratching noises, so I turn around see Justin with his back turned to me.
"Justin," I mumble tiredly, a little scared. The scratching continues. "Justin, are you awake?" I squint through the dim light above the window.
"I'm no good. I'm bad. I'm no good. I'm bad," Justin mutters loud enough for me to hear, but he doesn't stop.
"Justin." Running a hand through my hair, I mumble again.
"Can't sleep. No sleep. You can't hurt me if I'm awake." Soon enough, I realize he's not going to stop anytime soon, so I cover my ears with a pillow. I haven't gotten much sleep lately. It's impossible to sleep when I'm away from home in a cold, haunted room and a hard bed.
Now, it's even more hopeless to sleep, because I hear creepy scratching noises and soft muttering from Justin. It's kind of like a horror movie in here. The scratching noises sound like an evil spirit is trying to get to me, and the muttering is like a ghost's whisper. This hospital is keeping me from everything that makes me less crazy. I can't starve. I can't throw up. I can't harm myself. And I definitely can't kill myself.
-Saturday, 7am-
Finally, the scratching ends at about 4am. I can't imagine what Justin's nails are like right now. He'd been scratching the wall for 2 hours straight. However, without the noises, I still can't sleep. My mind's too busy with suicide thoughts to stay rested for merely five minutes.
"That's it. I can't take it anymore," I sit up frustratedly and throw my pillow on the floor. My back is killing me and my chest is tight.
"Ugh, no fucking sleep," I sigh irritably with a tightness in my throat.
"Sorry," Justin mutters, sounding shameful. He's sitting up too with his hood still over his head.
"It's not your fault," I can't tell him that part of it actually IS his fault. The other part is just this whole mental hospital situation.
"I want to leave." Itching for escape, I narrow my eyes and swallow hard.
"Me too," Justin's drawing X's on his bed, glancing at the corner of the room every so often, like he's scared of something.
"Is there anyway to get out of this place?" Once again, I run my fingers through my unclean hair. Do they offer showers here? Shaving razors? Deodorant? Girl products? Justin doesn't seem to hear me, which shows me clearly that there's no way out of here.