So i have been writing this story, and I am going to upload chapters as i write them, i hope you enjoy.
Chapter 1
Tick, tock, tick, tock. The only thing
I could think about was the clock, the time and getting the hell out of here.
Tick, tock, tick, tock. Everyone was on edge, ready to get up and bolt. Tick,
tock, tick, tock. Time was passing so slowly, slower than usual. And finally
the bell rang. The sound of chairs, feet and voices filled the classrooms and
the hallways. Everyone else was comparing vacation plans, heading to the mall
and making plans for the summer. But not me, no way, I was planning my escape,
not talking to anyone, not looking at anyone.
As I was at my locker someone stopped, and
started talking to me, I honestly can’t tell you what they were saying, I can’t
tell you much about that day. I can’t even tell you how I ended up here, in Brooke
Haven Halls. A hospital or a mental institution, well that’s what everyone else
called it. But not us. Us patients, we called this place the loony bin.
My room, well, there are not that many
words to describe it, but ill do my best. My room has white walls, a white
desk, a white wardrobe, a white chair, a white bed, you get the picture, Right?
I was told that the colour white was a calming colour. But after spending day
after day in a world of white, I’m starting to think that white is not a calming
colour. The white walls, the white floor, the white everything makes is seem
like you are living in a dream, except it’s a dream you can’t wake up from,
it’s a dream filled with meds, needles, nurses, doctors, handlers and
therapists.
My life was once colourful, happy, and
I was alive. But here, there is no colour, there is no happiness and most of
all, there is no feeling of freedom, or being alive. I can’t remember much of my life, just a few
things, but there is 1 thing that I know for sure, my name and age. My name is
Tinsley Carmichael, I am 15 years old. I have been at Brooke Haven Halls for
about a year and a half, I rarely ever get to see my parents, and when I do
it’s a very awkward event.
My parents love talking about
memories, but I can’t remember most of what they are talking about, they seem
to forget that, because every time they visit I have to remind them that I
can’t remember what they are talking about. When I do that they get this look
on their face, this look of sadness, confusion, and a look of disappointment. I
wish things could go back to the way they were, before I was here. But I know
that there is almost no way that will ever happen.
For
things to go back to the way they were, I need to get my memory back, the
doctors say that is almost impossible, I also need to get “better”, I don’t
think I’m sick, but everyone here says or thinks that I am, I know that I don’t
have a cold, or the flu, I’m not depressed.
Brooke Haven Halls had a new comer
today. A girl, she was about the age of 11 or 12. I instantly felt bad for the
girl, what could she have done to get her in here at such a young age. Word
spread fast of the new comer, by lunch she was all we could talk about. Her
name was Jenny, Jenny Williams. She was admitted here, because she has bipolar
depression. I thought I wasn’t going to be seeing much of Jenny, but it turns
out she is my roommate. I hope she brings a bit more life to the room.
It turns out that Jenny brings more
than life to the room. She brings, anger, sadness, confusion, amusement, and so
much more. But there is a downside, because she is bipolar, there are more
nurses around, more doctors, and more handlers. I would rather not have more
people around, but if that’s what I have to deal with, to have Jenny as a roommate,
it’s worth it.
My phone buzzes, it’s a text.
Hey,
what’s up?
I have no clue whose number it is, I
can’t be someone from my school, and nobody from there really knows me. But I
respond anyways.
Nothing,
who is this?
A response comes right away.
This
is Jack, I am a patient at Brooke Haven Halls, like you.
I have never seen a boy here, I wonder
what ward he is in?
What
ward are you in? I am in the Bi-polar ward
I
am in the Self-Harm ward.
So that’s why I have never seen him,
the Self-Harm ward is on the other side of the building. I had always thought
that there were only girls here, because my ward only has girls, and we never
get to see anyone from the other wards. I wondered if I was ever going to meet
him.
I
don’t mean to be nosy, but why are you in the Self-Harm ward? You don’t have to
tell me if you don’t want to.
Oh,
don’t worry, I don’t mind telling you. I am in the Self-Harm ward because a
when I was about 11 or 12 I got depressed, it was really bad. I did not know
what to do, because my meds weren’t working. After a while I got better, but 2
years ago I got depressed again, except this time it was worse than before, and
I had no control over anything, so I started to cut. Around my 15th birthday my parents
admitted me here, and I have been here ever since.
I was shocked, he had it worse than
me, I thought nothing could be worse than what I was going through, but I was
wrong. It took me a while to respond, I did not know what to say.
Wow,
that’s bad. That really sucks, I can’t imagine being depressed at age 11/12.
As soon as I sent that I regretted it,
I can’t believe I said that, I’m such an idiot.
Ya,
but it seems worse that it really is. So, why are you here?
Ok,
well it’s kinda a long story. And I don’t really remember it all. But here
goes, so I was at school, it was the last period of the day on the last day of
school before summer vacation, and I was waiting for the bell to ring. The bell
rang, and I got up, everyone around me was talking about their summer plans,
but not me. I was at my locker and someone stopped to talk to me, I don’t know
who it was or what they say, and then I was here, I can’t remember much of that
day or anything really. When I was younger I was having a lot of problems, so
my parents took me to a doctor and I was diagnosed with anxiety and I found out
I was Bi-polar.
It took me a long time to write that,
but when I hit sent it felt like this huge weight was being lifted off my
shoulders, it feels nice to have someone to talk to about this stuff. I tried
to talk to my parents but it’s really hard because they don’t really understand
what I’m going through, and they are having troubles accepting that their
daughter is at a mental institution.
It takes a while but a response comes.
Wow,
that’s hard. Not being able to remember a lot of your life must be really
difficult.
It
is, but it’s something that I need to come to terms with and accept that its
part of my life and it will always be. But over the year I have gotten a lot
better at accepting myself for who I am.
That’s really good, I hate to sound like a
doctor, but you’re making really good progress, you should be proud of
yourself. I wish I could say the same about myself, but I haven’t been doing
better, it’s not getting worse but I’m not improving.
Wow, Jack is really easy to talk to. I
never thought I would meet someone that accepted who I am, and not judged me
for my problems. But Jack is different, it’s like he really cares, I hope he
cares, because I care about him. Even though I have only known him for a few
hours it seems like I have known him forever.
Don’t
worry, you will get better. I believe in you, you just have to believe in
yourself.
That
really means a lot, thank you. It was great talking to you. I feel like I have
known you forever, but I have to go, my nurse is here. Bye.
Bye
J
Ill see you on the runway.
