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“Brittany?” Dr. Gunner says.
“Go away.” My voice cracks and I hate it.
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to me for a few minutes?”
“No, I don’t!”
“I can get you some dinner, even though you missed it, and I can make sure you see your parents tonight.”
In one swift movement, I yank my pillow from under my head, twist, and throw it at him. “Get out!” Before I lie down again, a thought hits me and I add, “And tell my parents not to tell my boyfriend I’m here, but to get my cell phone and tell Rebecca. She’s probably freaking out.” I roll over to face the wall again and wish I had my pillow.
“Okay. I can do that. I’ll see you in the morning the
n.”
Hope not. I lie there for what feels like forever. I don’t bother getting up when a nurse stops by and tells me I should get up to take my meds. I ignore her. Sleep doesn’t come and somehow, the tears never stop falling. I feel like an idiot that I’m in the freaking psych ward and all I can worry about is my breakup with Trace.
The one constant, the one person, my one rock that I’ve had since I was diagnosed who has helped me get through everything is gone. How am I supposed to survive now? Who am I supposed to go to? What in the world am I going to do? God, I already miss him. Maybe I’ll just stay here forever just to avoid dealing with the world.
The next day, Dr. Gunner tries repeatedly to get me out of my room, but I ignore him. He tries to bribe me with my parents, but it doesn’t work. I only get up to use the bathroom, which is inside my room thankfully. The rest of my time is spent staring at the wall, crying silently, or sleeping. My mind shuts down and I don’t think. I just lie there and exist.
Sunday comes and my stomach begins to cramp. My eyes burn from a lack of sleep and I’m so tired. There’s a knock on my door early that morning. I know it’s early because breakfast hasn’t been served and no one is really moving around.
“I have some breakfast for you if you’d like to eat some.” It’s some nurse. She’s checked on me often so far, and I wonder when she ever has a day off. She’s not supposed to bring food into my room. I’m supposed to get out of bed and go to the commons area if I want to eat. She walks around and sets the food on the nightstand, making sure I see her and the food. “Your parents are anxious to see you; they’ve been sitting in the waiting room all day since you were admitted. You’ve even had a friend stop by and sit with them.”
She must be talking about Rebecca.
“Well, I just wanted to bring you breakfast and let you know about your family. If you are going to eat, it’d be great if you’d do it quickly, so I can sneak it back out. I’ll be back in an hour.” With that, she walks out.
My eyes drift to the food and my stomach hurts more. I sit up, deciding I should take advantage of the nurse’s kindness. I slowly eat the food. Partly to savor it, partly to make sure I’m not going to throw up. The food isn’t half bad and I finish it all. I lie back down. The next time she enters the room, she brings me something else.
“Here are some of your own clothes your friend brought, and some things you’ll need if you’d like to take a shower. It’s right outside your room.”
My voice doesn’t sound like my own when I speak. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Honestly?”
I nod.
“I’m hoping if someone is nice to you that it’ll help you. It’s been hard to watch your parents sit in the waiting room and worry so much. You should really think about venturing out during visitor’s hours.”
“I think I’ll take that shower.” I’m not committing to anything yet.
The nurse shows me where it is as if she never told me in the first place. The shower wears me out, so I climb back into bed once I’m done. It feels good to be wearing my own clothes, though, and not those uncomfortable, scratchy hospital ones. It’s surprising when I don’t have a visit from Dr. Gunner, but I’m okay with that.
Around lunch, I hear, “I don’t care what policy is! You are going to let me see my daughter right now!”
Mom? I hate that they’ve been sitting out there with me being in here and too sorry to get up and meet them. Before I can think too much about it, I get out of bed and walk into the hallway, following the sound of her voice.
“I’m her mother and what she needs is someone she knows! Not to be holed up in that room. I can get her out. You need to let me see her!”
I walk around the corner to see my father trying to calm her down and my mother with her fists clenched on the countertop of the nurses’ desk. I wonder why they let her on this side if they had no intentions of letting her see me. You have to walk through a locked door to enter the ward.
“Mom?”
Their heads snap my way. Mom comes rushing over and I break into tears. God, I’m so tired of crying. Mom wraps me in her arms, crying just as hard as I am.
“We’ve been so worried. Are you okay?”
