I wake up, again, at eleven in the morning. It's so good to sleep in a little. I smooth out my clothes, then brush my hands through my hair. I go into the bathroom, because I have to pee, but mostly because I need the mirror for scrying. I need to know exactly where to go.
After peeing like a horse, holy shit, I concentrate on the mental institution that I saw in my dream. I look at my reflection, first thinking of how pretty I am even if I look like total shit, secondly focusing with my mind's eyes. I see it forming and then I seem to know exactly where to find this hospital. As I'm about to let it fade, I see a glimmer and then my mind realizes it's my reflection. With my mind distracted, the scrying ends and I nearly gasp to see this strangeness in my eyes. It seems ancient and powerful.
It's the eyes of the Moirai.
It strikes me that whenever Mick stares at me oddly, this is probably why. He saw the power in my eyes. Any time someone seemed to look at me differently, it was the expression in my eyes, the centuries-old power inside me.
Creepy, but cool.
My eyes fade back to normal and I smile. This makes me feel damn good after feeling like total shit.
I walk out of the motel room, sort of erasing any sign that I was here. Then, I teleport.
Standing in front of the hospital, I do not feel excited like I would be watching Girl, Interrupted. This has a creepy do-not-enter vibe. Somehow, I know this isn't good.
You'd be right. Something is off.
I know, thanks for believing in me.
I do, which is why I confirmed it.
Not how it came across.
Anyway, this isn't looking good, but there's opportunities here. The seer is in there, I vaguely got a Tricia Brown in my dream and my scrying, although I'm not sure. I vaguely saw her in there, but it wasn't clear.
If you're Hellbent on finding her, may I suggest committing yourself? They won't let you wander around, unless you're a patient.
Oh, great plan. Let's commit me! Why not? I'm crazy, aren't I?
You'll do fine.
Is there a day you'll ever stop talking?
Probably not.
So, I walk up to the place, open the door and walk through the lobby to the secretary's desk. She looks miserable. One glance at her and I see she's a total wallflower. A total nerd, top of her class, but rather than change the world with her strong character, she turned to doing what the guys around her told her to do.
Sad woman.
I walk up to her and her eyes lift up to me as she's talking on the phone, or should I say listening. Her stare is cold, warning me from bugging her. I smile and her stare continues.
"We'll be waiting." She replies, hanging up the phone and writes in her book, jotting down that some poor loser is getting themselves thrown into the looney bin. It's not an essay she's writing, but she is definitely making me wait.
"Hello." I say and her eyes lift up at me again, irritated. "I'm looking for a friend." I add and the secretary, Johanna Miles, doesn't even blink.
"There is a process to follow, Ma'am. You cannot simply walk in and visit your friend." She says and I laugh, making her glare.
"Ah, no. I'm not visiting. I'm looking to book my stay." I say and she frowns at me, confused. "I can check myself in, right?" I ask and glance around with a slight grin. "Or is this for the criminally crazy? In that case, just pretend I got lost." I add and smile innocently. She continues to stare oddly at me, but she lifts the receiver and waits.
"We have a young woman who wishes to commit herself." She says, unblinking. It's amazing how she can do that. She must be the champion of the staring contest. "She is serious." She adds and I let out a little excited squeak.
"Deathly serious." I say and her eyes widen a little. She hangs up the phone and takes out some forms from her drawer.
"You'll have to sign these. A doctor will be up shortly." She says and I take the forms, reading them as she gives me a pen, staring at me oddly. I have a quick glance, seeing that as a voluntary patient I can come, but I can't go as I please. They can hold me involuntarily, a maximum of 24 hours apparently, if they find my treatment isn't complete. Despite the fact that I do have a say in my treatment, once the 24 hours are up, they can have me examined again and sign some papers, keeping me for as long as they like, if that's what they think is the best for me.
Uh, why do I care? I can fucking leave whenever I want! Teleportation, baby.
I sign my name on all the lines and slide it over to the secretary just as this middle-aged guy steps out of an elevator. His wire-rimmed glasses make him look nice, but he's a tough nut. He's the type of guy you think will be on your side, but won't be when you need him most. He'll be the guy signing your death warrant.
"Hello. I'm Dr. Frederick." He says, extending his hand. I take it and smile charmingly, pretending I don't know he's a total douchebag.
"Celeste Armstrong." I reply and he looks at me, as if wondering what could possibly be wrong with me. Oh, this should be of some fun.
"We can speak in my office." He says and I follow him to the elevator. He lets me in first, the papers I had signed in his hands, and then presses the button for the second floor. The doors open and we step out into a corridor with paintings to sort of make you forget you're in the looney bin.
He turns the doorknob of his office and steps in, gesturing me to sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk. We sit, awkwardly in silence, and he stares at me like I'm a new toy. I sort of glare at him and he smiles, finally getting the examination started.
"Tell me about yourself." He says and I maintain my glare but answer him anyway.
"I had a pathetic job, a lousy apartment and a moronic cousin with her idiot friend. My life wasn't perfect and I didn't like it much, but it really sucked." I begin and he seems accepting enough, until he frowns a little at my lack of logic. "My life now is way more fun. My cousin and her friend did a spell that brings us from our world to your world. At first, it was crazy." I say and then mock shame, covering my mouth with one hand. "Can I say crazy in here?" I ask and he gives me a slight smile.
"No." He replies and I smile innocently.
"Well, I thought it was crazy." I say anyway because I do that; you say no, I'll do it anyway. "These guys who were characters are real. And the kick of it all? I'm a Fate." I add with a bright smile that makes him just nod. Yup, I'm going with the delusion of grandeur, mostly because it's what he sees it to be: a delusion that I'm this all so powerful Goddess. Oh, it's about to get better. "At first, I thought I was crazy, but then I saw that one guy was going to die due to fatty foods and masturbation. Then I figured I can change the fate of someone by will. Not so easy to do when they're dead. That takes more magic. So I did. Resurrected a guy who got shot in the head." I conclude and Dr. Frederick quickly jolts down some notes about my delusion of grandeur. "So, do you like Doctor Who?" I ask, seeing that he actually went to a Doctor Who convention because he wanted to be mistaken as one of the Doctors so he could get laid by some desperate fan… as his wife doesn't do anything kinky with his cock.
The convention ended in disappointment for the good old Doc.
"This is about you, Celeste." He replies softly.
"Okay." I say with a smile. "Did I tell you about Clotho? She's cool. She started talking shortly after I got into this world. She talks to me all the time. She didn't want me to come here. I guess that's why I'm getting the silent treatment." I add with a grin, finding some humour in that. Apparently, he doesn't. Well, I just mentioned hallucinations. That's two out of five symptoms of schizophrenia.
I have to admit, I did a little research back in high school as part of my psychology class because that's what I thought Britney Spears had at the time. Nothing like teenagers diagnosing celebrities.
I know the other three symptoms, but I think I shot those ones in the face, since I'm on topic, smiling and clean. Oh well, two should be good enough.
"Do you consume alcohol or take medications?" Dr. Frederick asks and I smile sheepishly.
"Only with my new friends, like all the time, but never in the same half-hour." I reply with a grin and he continues making notes.
Yup, I'm definitely in.
Author's Note: I do not mean to offend anyone with or who knows someone with mental illnesses. If you suffer with a mental illness, know that you do not have to suffer in silence, as you'll find most people aren't dicks.