Madhouse

Thunder boomed and lightning cracked across the sky, the rain falling heavily on the roof of the ambulance. The sirens were louder than the thunder, and through blurry eyes, I could see the flashing of red and blue. I focused all of my attention to the loud noises because they were the only things keeping me awake. Staying awake was the only thing keeping me alive. I wanted so badly to just close my eyes and be rid of this miserable life. The voices hate me and tell me I'm worthless. They call me all types of names and put me down. They've even threatened me. What better way to make them go away than to make myself disappear for good?

It felt good – cutting so deep. It was a rush of adrenaline, knowing that I held my own life in my hands. Knowing that a single piece of cold, hard steel could end everything right then and there. So, I tried. I was shaking, nervous. Once I took a deep breath and calmed myself down, I sliced open my left forearm, then my right. Clean cuts. Down the street, not across the road is what the voices said. It's funny how they have always been so cruel to me, but as soon as I grabbed the razor, they became supportive. All of that blood, spilled out onto the plush, white carpeting in my bedroom. If my mother hadn't have walked in when she did, I'd be dead already.

The ride to the hospital had to be the longest ride of my life. When we got there, the paramedics flung the doors open and unlatched the gurney. Mom finally stopped smacking my face, which was a relief. I smiled and let out a small laugh thinking that they would never be able to save me. I had already lost a lot of blood, and was continuing to bleed. A new face joined my side as I was still being wheeled down the halls. "Tylinne, I'm Dr. Garcia. We're going to get you stitched up now, okay?" the new face said. It wasn't until then that I noticed the gurney had stopped moving. I didn't know where I was, but I suddenly felt a burning pain in my left arm. After that, I didn't feel anything until the doctor moved on to my right arm. The familiar burning returned, but only for a moment. When he was finished intricately stitching me up, Dr. Garcia wrapped my forearms in layers of thick, white gauze.

Hours passed, and Mom had tried calling Daddy several times. Sometimes she would leave a voice-mail, but he never called back. I figured that he's probably out with his gold-digging girlfriend, and doesn't have time to answer calls from his ex-wife. I believe he knows that I finally tried to take my life. After all, I've felt this way for a long time. I just never had the nerve to do it. Until today.

I was coming back to reality, and heard my mom discussing hospitalization with Dr. Garcia. I knew that by the end of the night, I'd be in an insane asylum somewhere. I just wanted to rest, but Dr. Garcia had questions.

How long have you felt suicidal? As long as I can remember.

What made you decide to try it today? I can't handle their constant taunting. They mock me.

Who, Tylinne? The voices. That seemed to shut him up, but it also seemed to be justification that I needed to be hospitalized.

There were no clocks in the room I had been transferred to, so I had no clue how long I had been there. It was on the psych unit of the hospital, and there was nothing in the room but a chair and the bed that the nurses helped me in. Mom was sitting in the chair, and it looked uncomfortable. I know the bed was. When Dr. Garcia came into the room this time, he brought two new paramedics. "Mrs. Cain, we're going to transfer Tylinne to Hampton Hill Psychiatric," the doctor said. "You can't ride with the ambulance, but you need to be there to sign papers for her admittance. I would suggest going home and packing her a bag, as Hampton Hill is a long-term care facility. When you return, we will give you directions and you can follow behind the ambulance." Mom wiped her eyes, and I could see that she didn't want me to go. However, she knew it was best for me, so she agreed.

Mom was gone for a half hour before she returned with two of her large suitcases and a duffel bag. Mom kissed my forehead, her tears dripping onto my face, as the paramedics helped me onto a new gurney and lifted me into the ambulance. I was nervous about going away, and slowly but surely, the voices were returning. I tried to block them out, but they were getting louder and more violent.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.Time was dragging on, and I just wanted to scream. The voices subsided whenever I drifted into sleep, but then the ambulance would hit a bump or stop abruptly, and I'd be awake again. When I thought the ride would never end, we finally slowed, then stopped. The doors to the back of the ambulance opened, and I was lifted out. Mom had parked, and rushed to my side with the bags to go inside with me. It was already dark outside, but I still had no idea what time it was. That was bugging me. The moon was high in the sky, and the stars surrounded it. I would assume it was after nine.

The paramedics helped me down, and while I was still weak, I was able to walk. A tall woman in a tweed skirt suit and heels walked through the large, oak doors. Looking around the large lobby, the woman checked her watch two times. When her eyes landed on me, she smiled sweetly and walked over. "Tylinne?" she asked. I nodded just slightly. "My name is Stacey. You can come with me, sweetheart." I looked at my mom, helpless. Stacey caught that. "Your mom is going to stay here to sign some paperwork and get your bags checked. We need to get you settled in, so please come with me." Tears filled my eyes, but I followed Stacey anyway. Walking is hard when you're tired and in pain. I kept swaying back and forth, stumbling over my feet.

Stacey lied to me. Not only did she tell me that all I had to do was relax, she also told me that this would be easy. It most certainly was not easy, therefore, I could not relax. Stacey took me back past those big, oak doors into a small room with only two chairs, and a desk with a phone sitting on top. "If you'll just have a seat, we can get started," she said. I sat down, but refused to answer any of the questions she asked. Believe me, she asked a lot of them. Once she saw that I wasn't going to be compliant, she released me to a male nurse, Chase, who took me down a long, wide hallway to the doors marked adolescent unit.

Notes

Welcome to my insanity, mwah-ha-ha-ha!

This story hits a nerve for me. It's loosely based off of my personal experiences with institutions. I'm usually all for feedback, positive or negative, but since this is kind of like my own life story, no negativity. Please.

Anyhoo, please enjoy this story! I love you all :)