Psychosis

After lunch, I was examining my face in the restroom’s wide mirror when I heard a shuffling in the stall directly behind me. The room wasn’t very well lit. There was a small window on the far side of the room, opposite the door, and two small light bulbs hung from the ceiling. I assumed they only used the lights at night, because at the moment they were off. I couldn’t see anyone in the stall behind me, but there appeared to be a shadow beneath the door. I crouched to get a better view of the inside of the stall and saw nothing.
I began to feel confused and disoriented, so I splashed my face with water from the sink. There was imbalance in the atmosphere. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was there.
Exire. Mors ad te venit. Came the whispers of some unfamiliar voice, speaking in a distorted whisper. I recalled the Latin class I had taken my freshmen year and tried to decipher the meaning behind the words. Exire meant “leave” and mors meant death. If the voices speaking to me hadn’t startled me enough, the fact that they were telling me to die was the icing on the cake. I held my breath so I wouldn’t scream and left the bathroom in a hurry.
When I left the bathroom, a hallway attendant asked me if I was alright.
“You’re white as a sheet,” she said, “Did something happen?”
I couldn’t tell the truth. I was already classified as mentally ill. If I babbled on about hearing voices, I would be digging myself into a deeper hole than the one I’d already dug myself into. I lied, telling the attendant I felt nauseous and needed to lie down. She smiled sympathetically and walked with me to my room. I had only been there once, earlier in the morning, to get settled in. This was the first time I was able to see the entire room without disruption.
The room appeared empty when I first walked in. There were two beds and one small table near the window. The window was barred, but probably only to keep the patients in. Because we didn’t appear to be a suicide risk, we were allowed more personal belongings. In front of me, there were pictures in frames lining the window sill. I gathered that my new roommate was sentimental, or at least he missed his family. I didn’t miss mine for sending me to this horrid place. I didn’t miss my parents at all, but I hung my head in misery at the thought of my little brother Mikey, all alone now without me.
A familiar click of a door opening startled me and I turned around to see my new roommate, Frank, enter the room. He smiled awkwardly at me and introduced himself, adding that I probably knew his life story from sitting with Bert.
“Bert?”
Frank immediately understood my confusion and began to explain. “The one they all call ‘Ghoul’. I think it’s ignorant to give someone power over you like that, and that’s exactly what they’re doing, giving him that name.”
After an hour of talking to Frank, I knew he wasn’t as crazy as the men at the table had described him. He only seemed wary of Bert, his old roommate. He claimed Bert had “tortured” his mind, so I assumed the guy had been playing jokes on him because he thought Frank was vulnerable. I gathered that Bert—or Ghoul—could be vicious and unkind, but my pre-formed opinion of the man didn’t falter. There was something about Bert that was mysterious to me, and I longed for more of it.
Frank and I must have talked for hours, because by the time I looked at the clock, it was 10:30 PM, and the sun had gone down a long time ago. Frank told me they checked the rooms at eleven to make sure all the patients were in bed, so we said our good nights and went to sleep.
We were awakened in the next morning by the male nurse who gives us our morning doses of medication. Frank and I were given the same medication, Risperdal, but I received a much lower does because they were still testing me for side-effects. We were given our medications one at a time so that the nurse could watch us. He checked under our tongues and scanned our mouths with a flashlight to make sure we had swallowed the medication. It seemed strange to me that such a precaution was necessary. I didn’t understand who wouldn’t want to recover from their ailments. I would much rather swallow a tiny pill each morning than fear the world around me for the rest of my life.
After taking our medications, we were sent to group therapy. Besides myself, there were two other people who were also new to the group, so our discussion leader had us go around the room and introduce ourselves. The discussion leader was named Dr. Darren Chastain. He dressed casually, and I assumed he did so as not to intimidate anyone in the group.
I recognized a few of the people in group, and now I knew most of their names. Most of the group had given their names and the story of how they ended up in the hospital, and now it was Bert’s turn. He introduced himself as Robert McCracken, and neglected to tell anyone how he ended up in the hospital.
“I shouldn’t be here anymore,” he said, glancing accusingly towards the doctor. “But I make the best of what I have.”
He smiled in satisfaction at his answer and nodded to the person sitting next to him. As group continued, we finished introductions. This particular group contained people with all types of disorders. We did not talk about our private life here, but mostly we sorted out our day to day problems. Our deeper concerns would be dealt with in a private session that we only had on Fridays.
After group, we were given an hour before lunch to do as we pleased. There was an entertainment room with a television, x-box, several tables and board games. There was a small library for the patients who had an interest in reading. We could also go outside to an enclosed space with a picnic table. I followed Frank to the entertainment room and taught him how to play chess. He learned quickly, and by the end of the hour, he had almost beaten me at my own game.
I had promised Frank I’d sit with him at lunch today, and I didn’t go back on my promise. We got separated in the lunch line, but I knew I’d find him later at his table. While I was waiting to get food, I saw Bert. We exchanged glances and he made his way over to me.
“Hello there, Sunshine,” he cooed.
I blushed, and Bert seemed to enjoy it. He grinned with satisfaction.
“I’ll meet you in the entertainment room at nine tonight. Don’t be late.”
I nodded in agreement and he sauntered away.
Frank was already waiting for me at the table when I arrived. He looked concerned about something, but he had been hard to read since the moment I met him.
“What did he want?” Frank inquired.
I told Frank that Bert had asked me to meet him later and Frank voiced his concern.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea…”
“I don’t have much of a choice,” I lied. “He didn’t ask me to meet him. He told me he’d meet me.”
“Be careful.”
“I will,” I promised him.
But what harm could Bert really cause me? We were contained in the facility, watched at almost every moment. I had nothing to fear.
At 8:45 that night, I made my way to the entertainment room. When I arrived, Bert was already there, sitting on the couch in the corner of the room. He smiled up at me and stood up from the couch, walking over to greet me. He pulled me into a tight hug.
“You came,” he whispered in my ear. “I didn’t think you’d show.”
His breath on my neck sent shivers down my spine. I felt as though I’d lost control over my body. His words were powerful and they put me in a trance. I followed him to a table and sat down across from him. As we sat there, he asked me about my condition, and I willingly told him everything. I told him about the drugs, about the things I had seen.
“I see,” he said, analyzing my words. He was reluctant to share anything about himself, leaving me still mystified by him.
After a few minutes of deep thought, he spoke again.
He leaned in, brushing my hair behind my ears with his fingertips as he whispered in my ear:
“You have nothing to be afraid of.”

Notes

Aghaghagh. I have done so much research writing this, and I'm only two chapters in. I wanted to be realistic with the way the mental disorders work, and the meds people take. If anything seems inaccurate, lemme know.