Roger sat on the bed that had clean white linens spread neatly over it. That man was coming in again. He knew it. He'd been at St. Michael's Institution for Mental Health for two days now, and under such close supervision that it nearly stifled him. Both days, the bald man would come in and sit on a chair and do nothing but watch him. And take notes. Often, Roger would sit on the bed, cross-legged, and stare straight back. The man would be a little confused, but he would keep writing. Other times, Roger would sit with his back to the man and just wait to hear the door click shut again.
Roger studied the blankets that were on the bed so neatly. He hadn't even used them. It had been one whole day, a night, and then another whole day without sleep. He just didn't want to slide under the sheets like he used to do. Because he had no one around to comfort him as he drifted off. So he vowed himself just not to ever fall asleep.
He heard the door click open softly and footsteps bring themselves inside. He kept his head down though, because he liked to get the man seated and poised to write before slowly raising his head and just staring at him with dark-circled eyes. He could always feel that initial fear that hit the bald man. He liked it.
Although it didn't sound like anyone was sitting down or flipping a page in a notebook. Whoever it was just stayed standing. Roger waited for a very long time for whoever it was to make to their presence known, but it became too long. He did his usual raise of the head slowly. No one was sitting in the chair.
Instead, there was a person standing by the door. Someone dressed in white. He looked over. A young woman about the age of twenty-seven or twenty-eight was positioned by the door, hands folded in front of her, staring at him. He was slightly taken aback by this. But then he felt something sinister rise up in him. She was a woman. She'd be easy to scare off. He stared hard at her, trying to send as much fear into her bones as possible. The look on her face was gentle and patient-as if she were simply waiting for him to break and let her approach him. Both just stared at each other. Eventually, Roger did break. He pulled his legs close to his chest and rested his head on his knees, looking at the floor. She took a careful step-just one-and watched. The she took another. And another.
Sooner or later, she was standing right beside him. When she gently touched his shoulder, he jerked away. The woman waited for a few moments. "My name is Virginia. I'm going to be taking care of you special." she explained in a soft voice. "What's your name?" Roger planned on just not answering her. But he could tell by the way she was standing (and how much patience she'd just previously demonstrated) he knew he wasn't going to get far. Several minutes went by. Finally, he sighed. "R-Roger," he whispered hoarsely, his voice still tired from all the screaming just a few days ago. She smiled warmly. "Roger. Good, very good. It's nice to meet you, Roger." He wouldn't look at her anymore.
Roger knew that she was trying to get him to pull out that civilized behavior he had in him; greeting strangers, being polite, not hesitating, responding to questions. He just didn't want to right away. She stood before him quietly. "Roger, I'm here to help you." she said. Clearly, this wasn't in the script they'd probably given her, or the checklist of things she had to get him to do in order for them to proclaim him "normal". He shivered slightly as the words hit him. No one ever offered to help him. Ever. Why have someone try to start now? He gave a slight nod. She leaned down a bit. "You can call me Miss Ginny." Roger suddenly felt something stir inside of him. He liked how that sounded. It reflected how soft and sweet she seemed. Again, he gave a slight nod.
Miss Ginny stayed leaned down beside him. "I'm not going to hurt you," she explained. "Nor am I going to force you into things too quickly. That's where I need your help, alright? I need you to tell me how you're feeling about certain things so I can make adjustments when necessary. Because I truly want you to get better." Roger let out a sigh. He just kept hugging himself. Miss Ginny began to walk out of the room, letting him know that she'd be back in a few minutes. As the door clicked shut, Roger let the tears he'd been retaining fall down his face in streams.