Boom. Boom. Boom.
The sound echoed through a thick fog of confusion. It was as if a heart could communicate through the sound of it's beating.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Though steady, the melancholy sound managed to burn as beated. A soft groan echoed louder than the beating, while a thick layer of light broke through the blackness that was everywhere.
"Brielle Scott?"
Suddenly I knew where I was. The hospital. The pounding in my chest subsided, but the pain was there. I looked around the room. It was small but it made me feel more safe. I couldn't talk yet so I just nodded at the nurse who smiled gently at me. She told me about how my surgery went, and that they were sending me to a mental hospital until I got better. Also, I'd have to give up all connections to the outside world. This was my punishment for being tortured? Fantastic.
After a few days I was strong enough to get out of bed. They made walk around the halls for a little and even let me try and eat solid food. I spent only a few weeks in intensive care before they shipped me off to Laurel Sanatarium.
Laurel was about a half hour drive from my Baltimore home. There were five buildings in total all layed out on a huge campus. The buildings were old and I had to wonder if they'd been restored since being built in 1905. Though, there were more things to worry about. The inside was mostly gray in color. It was boring and lifeless like all of us there were. It was pretty full so they told me I'd have to make a room out of a supply closet. Not that I minded, as the closet was small in size and I wouldn't be as disturbed.
As I walked towards the main building, I noticed how miserable this place really looked. It was worse than being in high school. There, misery isn't 'real'. While here, that's when you learn what misery really feels like. At school students try to make the best of their situation. When they get to see their friends, teachers that they like, or even luch and study hall. But here, there's not much you could do to make the situation any better. Most of the kids here were 'abandoned.' Dropped off to live out their life away from all the 'healthy' people. It's like we're diseased or something just for being different.
"Brielle Scott?" a young lady sitting behind a desked muttered to herself while looking through some papers. "You have an appointment with Dr. Marcus at the administration building at five. Lunch is every afternoon at one in one of the dining rooms. Dinner is at six. Here is your schedule; If you follow Miss Garcia, she'll show you where your room is." it amazed me how fast someone could talk withouth taking a breath. I just nodded, half listening.
I grabbed my schedule and turned around and followed Miss Garcia outside and to the female building. We walked down a long hallway before reaching a dead end where my room was. I opened the door to the closet and saw a bed, a lamp, and a ton of boxes.
"Feel free to move this stuff into the halls. Someone will be by to move it to another supply closet. I'll be by in an hour to help you to your class." Miss Garcia smiled softly at me before turning away.
I walked into the room and dropped my bag on the floor. This room needed a lot of work done to it. I turned on the dusty lamp that was sitting on the ground. It flickered a little before it was stable. The room looked horrid in the light. I sighed and put my suitcase on the bed and dug through it. My things were all messed up. Upon entering, secruity dug through my bag removing my laptop, Ipod, and Blackberry.
The second I noticed the picture frame was missing, is when I broke down. It was one thing to take electronics but how could I let them take the last picture that my brother took before being shot in Afghanistan? This place was hell.
It was around eleven o'clock when I was settled into my room. I took out my schedule and looked through my classes.
Math
Science
Solo Therapy
English
Group Therapy
I sighed. I had already missed Math and science and was told I didn't have to go to solo therapy. All I had to do was go to English and group therapy and I was done for the day. I knew my time here would drag on. Most people stayed for a life time. Others were sentenced for a certain amount of time by the state then were able to leave. I laid down on my bed and held onto my pillow trying not to think of my brother; soon, I fell asleep.
After what seemed like a minute, I was being awoken by Miss Garcia banging on my door. I groaned and before I could get up, she sprang through my door and leapt over to my bedside. I wiped my eyes and grabbed my schedule and slowly got up.
"So what class do you have?" she asked my looking over my shoulder.
"English," I said dully.
"Right this way," she smiled and lead the way down the hall.
I practically had to sprint to keep up with her. Eventually we came to a brown door that lead to more misery. Opening the door, an unsightly bunch of teenagers became viable to me. Sighing slightly, I walked in while Miss Garcia talked to my English teacher.
"Alright class, please welcome Brielle Scott to our class," she said listlessly.
Most people just laughed quietly to themselves while the teacher just shook it off and continued to write on the board. The first step I took resulted in an ungraceful fall flat on my face. I looked up to two girls who were laughing hard. One waved at me a mumbled something I couldn't hear. I sighed and got up and walked over to my seat.
I sat next to a scary looking guy. He had a constant 'bitch' face and looked like if you said something to him, he go off on a murderous rampage throughout the building. I decided it be best not to say anything to him. I was handed a black notebook and a wooden pencil while I sat down. I took it and began copying down notes on grammar. I quietly tapped my pencil on my thumb while a tuned out the lesson.
I noticed a petite brunette kept staring at me from across the room. I fidgeted uncomfortably in my seat while her gazed burned into the side of my head. Minutes ticked on. I swore I could hear the clock actually moving. The room was so quiet. I'd never heard of a classroom constantly being like this. The teacher never bothered to ask any questions since no one would answer, even when being called on.
Finally, class ended and it was time for lunch. The brunette that was staring at me walked over to me smirking.
"I'm Amy. It's nice to meet you, Brielle." she said extending her hand.
"Nice to meet you," I whispered out shaking her hand. I didn't mean for it to come out as a whisper, but I felt as if my throat was closing.
"How was your first class?" she asked as I got up.
"Long," I mumbled as we walked towards the exit.
"Yeah. It's always like that here."
"Welcome to Hell,"
She giggled. "Classes are an hour long and begin at nine A.M. Curfew is at ten and watch out for the teachers. Some teachers go crazy with arts and crafts."
"Crafts?" I cocked my head to the side slightly.
"Yeah. They try to get people to do arts and crafts instead of being angry."
"Oh," I nodded as we entered the dining room.
The dining room was set up like a cafeteria. There were a bunch of tables spaced out around the room and there were places where you could serve yourself.
Amy and I grabbed turkey sandwiches and water. Amy commented on the fact that I put mayonnaise on my turkey, as she hated it. I just laughed at her comments and followed her to a table. We picked a lonely small table in the back of the room to call 'ours.'
"A freak that doesn't fit in with the freaks," I commented taking a bite of the tasteless sandwich.
Amy giggled and took a sip of water. "I know what you mean." she shook her head slowly.
I looked around at the dining room. It was a little less lifeless than being in class, but everyone still seemed to be pretty dead inside and out. There was a lot of talking and little hints of laughter and happiness. But not the real happiness, it's the kind where you can smile and laugh but still feel achy inside. But it was better than being totally out of it all the time. There were no windows. Well, one. But it was one of those fake windows where you can't see a thing out of it but you can tell that a world really does exist beyond it.
"What do you have next?" Amy's voice pulled me out of my mental daze.
"Group therapy," I sighed. Group therapy was something I never liked.
"Cool me too," Amy smiled at me, her brown eyes sparkled in the light.
"How bad is it?"
"Not too. They try and make us tell them why we're here, but you don't have to. The only thing you have to do is introduce yourself and just say a little about yourself."
"Ew." I leaned back a little and played with my food.
I wasn't my best friend. I hated myself almost all the time and I sure as hell didn't want to talk about myself. Especially with strangers that, for the most part, creeped me out.
"It'll be fine," she smiled and touched my arm sympathetically.
When lunch finally ended, Amy and I made our way to group therapy. It was a short walk but it dragged on for a lifetime.
"Welcome." I was greeted at the door by the first happy adult I'd seen here all day. "I'm Mr. Matthews. Please sit." he motioned with his arm for us to take a seat.
Hard metal seats were arranged in a too-close-circle in the center of the room. The room was huge and white. It kind of reminded me of a racquetball room with it's size and color. Amy took a seat closest to the door, and I sat next to her. When the others began to arrive, the seats began to migrate away from each other.
"Alright. Brielle, why don't you start by introducing yourself and telling us a little about you?" Mr. Matthews said with a reassuring smile.
"Uhm," I sat forward in my seat and nervously played with my thumbs. "My name is Brielle Scott. I'm from Baltimore,"
Mr. Matthews noticed my faults and jumped in to 'save' me. "Do you have any siblings?"
My heart sunk. "Uhm I have a brother."
Noticing that I didn't want to talk about him, he moved on. "Pets?"
I shook my head. "No. No pets."
"Lastly, something that you're afraid of."
"Spiders."
Mr. Matthews sucked his teeth and cocked his head to the side. "Everyone says 'spiders'." he pointed out.
"Spiders are evil." I said simply.
"Well, yes." he clapped his hands together. "Now what I want you to do is break off into different groups and try and get to know eachother more. I want you to be able to understand your peers and see things they way they do. Now, go!"
Amy got up and stood in front of me. "Partner?" she smiled.
I nodded and stood up. "Sure."
We picked a spot in the room where little people were.
"So,...you have a brother?" she asked awkwardly. It was clear that no one was really comfortable here.
"Uhm no." I stared down at the ground.
"But-"
"He died a few years ago. In Afghanistan."
"I'm so sorry," she gasped putting her hand flat against her cheat.
"Well, if it isn't the little dyke." I heard from behind Amy. I heard her sighing as she looked down. "Sowwy. Am I interrupting your wittle date?" she faked a pout staring from Amy to me.
"Shut up, Angela." Amy whipped her head around.
"Or what? Are ya gonna kiss me?" she puckered her lips at Amy.
"No. But I'll definitely give you something you can kiss all by your slutty self." Amy balled up her fists just as Mr. Matthews came right over to us.
"Alright. Amy let's leave Angela alone." he placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her away from Angela.
"But she started it," the words came out so cold. Mr. Matthews looked at me surprised.
"Is this true, Angela?" he asked sternly.
"That little bitch is sticking up for the dyke." she scoffed.
"Angela, that is enough." I could hear his teeth grinding together. He grabbed Angela's arm and brought her outside. Behind me, I could hear Amy sniffling in the corner.
"Why does she call you dyke?" I asked, kneeling next to her.
"Because I'm a lesbian." she wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
"That's no excuse." I said grabbing a tissue from a small table.
"Thanks," she said as she wiped her eyes. The tears started falling and that made me upset. It's bad enough that Amy was stuck all alone in the mental hospital, but to be bullied where she was supposed to feel safe was just wrong.
"Come here." I grabbed her hand and lifted her up. I walked her over to her bag, picked it up, and headed for the door.
"Are you okay, Amy?" Mr. Matthews asked.
"She just needs to lie down." I said pushing past him and out the door. I dragged her through the long hallways until I found my little supply closet. I closed us in and turned on the lamp.
"There's about fifty minutes left of class," I murmured to myself. I handed Amy more tissues and sat down on the bed.