Never too late
Chapter 1- Psych Ward
I sat in a white room, staring at the metal bars surrounding me. Tears are streaming down my face. I don't know why, though. I just sit there and somehow get depressed. Somehow, I got this way. Somehow, I don't know my own family. Yeah, that's how bad it is. And I can't move, can't speak. I can't speak because it all comes out jumbled. Sometime, some place, somewhere. And I am whatever they say I am. If I wasn't, then why would I say I am?
My name is Zack Martin. As you people clearly don't know, I'm locked up in a psych ward, never to come out. They lock us up in metal cells, and if we ever try to come out, they put you in serious conditions that I can't repeat what's like.
Forgive me, mother. Get me out. Get me to my brother. That's what I always pray to God for, even if he can't understand my speech. You see, I've been locked in this place ever since I was four years old, I'm fifteen now. I've been in this fucking room for eleven years. And what do they say? They say schizophrenia, furious mania, hallucination, and incoherency. That's what those bitches say.
Yeah, I can't keep a conversation for five minutes. Yeah, I hear voices in my head. Yeah, I tried to kill people here. Yeah, I'm an asshole. Who the hell cares? All I care about is trying to get to my brother. Seeing him be better than what I ever will be.
You see, it all started when I first turned four, on August 4th. My single mom finally decided to bring me to this psych ward. I only got to see my brother a couple times before going in here, and never seeing him again.
Now, I'm still sitting in my cell, and I see one of the doctors come in the holding center. He's holding a clip board, and looking down at me.
"Well, Zack, how are you feeling today?" Dr. Matthew asks me. I give him a hateful stare.
"Depressing and angry," I say, my words all jumbled together.
"Same as yesterday. Did you sleep last night?" Dr. Matthew asks.
"No," I reply.
"Any idea why?" Dr. Matthew asks.
"Doc, when am I getting out of here?" I ask, changing the subject.
"I don't know. Can you please answer my question?" Dr. Matthew asks.
"You answer mine," I reply, getting angry.
"Don't get smart with me, Zack. You can't handle it," Dr. Matthew says.
"Don't tell me what to say or do! Why don't I kill myself, or can I handle that?!" I yell, standing up. Dr. Matthew then leaves, leaving me to dwell on my thoughts.
That's the routine here. Every morning, I get grief from the doctors. They think I can't handle it when I actually can. They think just because I'm "insane" means that they can treat me like shit. Calm down, Zack. You can't handle it. That's what they always say! What are they protecting me from? Why do they think I can break when I'm already broken?
"You okay?" Justin, the person in the cell next to me, asks.
"Not really," I reply.
"I know. I hate the doctors, too," Justin replies, looking at me.
"Why are you here?" I ask.
"Furious mania. I tried to kill someone," Justin says.
"How long have you been here?" I ask.
"Four years," Justin says, looking down.
"Hey, at least you've been here a short time. I've been here for eleven years," I say.
Justin is my best friend. He's the only person I can really relate to. I guess you can say he's really fun to talk to. He's almost like a brother to me. He's fifteen, too, and someone to tell my problems to. He's the closest thing I have to family, and I kind of love him for that.
Justin's POV
Zack is the kind of guy who always makes me feel better about myself. He makes me feel like adrenaline is always running. He's fifteen, but Zack's a fragile kid. That's why it's my job to protect him. I've never had a sibling, and I know that he thinks of me as a brother, but to me, it seems like it's more than that.
What the hell is going on with me?