She opened her blue-green eyes, slowly, blinking at the light. It was always light in here, it was enough to drive you fucking crazy...that is if you weren't already. She could hear Marie down the hall screaming for her meds and Darcy next door, scratching at the wall. Jesus Christ, she thought, what the fuck am I doing in this place? She slid her legs over the side of her bed and rested her head on her hands. They'd taken her restraints away months ago, as soon as they'd rammed enough Thorazine and Clozapine and God knows what else into her to keep her quiet and perpetually tired. She rubbed at her eyes, trying to think straight, trying to remember the events that had led her to this shithole. Was it all real? Even she was starting to doubt everything that had happened. It all seemed buried beneath a psychotropic haze of little blue pills and psychobabble from her psychiatrist.
Holden was the worst therapist she'd ever met, and she'd gone through a few since she arrived here. He was the new guy, fresh from college, and two of his caseload had already gone terminal. Needless to say, he was eager to keep the ones he had left in good spirits. She sat across from him, inwardly amused by his permanent look of frustration and, just occasionally, desperation.
"So I hear you've been asking to come of meds?" he said, glancing up briefly from her notes.
"Yeah, ya know, I can't think straight on that shit. How am I supposed to get better if I can't remember anything?"
"Nancy...you know I can't recommend complete withdrawal of meds for someone with your...advanced delusional behaviour", he looked down at his papers and seemed vaguely embarrassed by his diagnosis. She bit hard on her lip. She'd been through the whole argument before countless times with various doctors. None of them had believed the things she'd told them. To them she was just another crazy kid in a whole hospital full of crazy, screwed up kids.
'Look. I'm over it, ok? I know it was all just in my head, Witches, the magic, my powers', she knew she was lying, it felt like lying. 'What do I have to do to prove to you that I'm okay?'