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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · History · #2217778
This is a short story about an 18 year old teenager who was emitted into an insane asylum.
         "You are Insane, Don't Forget It."

         Short Story By: Grace-Lynn Thode

         I sat in a chair, silent as the woman at the desk began tapping her pen, the ballpoint hitting the desk with a small thud. Thud......thud.....thud.... I tried covering my ears, and a companion began rubbing my back softly.

         "He doesn't like repetitive noises Miss- they're a stress factor-"

         "I know. What are his symptoms?"

         My eyes shot up at the companion- a lovely looking woman- but, her eyes..her eyes- dark...uncomposed- stressed. My mother looked down at me, her hand dropping to her lap. "He talks to himself."

         "As any child does?"

         "No...he has full conversations with himself. He says that there's someone else there, he's always talking to someone."

         The woman frowned, her eyes narrowing. "Has he been diagnosed with schizophrenia?"

         "No Miss- but please listen-"

         "Ma'am, this institution is for that of the mentally unstable, not children who have imaginary friends."

         "He is not a child! He is almost 18!!" The woman, who had comforted me earlier, stood up, her chair falling, making me flinch. "I have visited all the asylums, all the mental institutions, and all of them have refused him. I need you to help my son-"

         "Alright ma'am, I'll do what I can. Unfortunately,by the look of your budget and his condition, we might not be able to give him the best care."

         "That's fine- I just want to do the most I can."

         "Good. If I'm going to diagnose your son, I need a better explanation of your sons' symptoms."

         I zoned out, trying to push this conversation out of my mind. I stood up, went to the door, and stared out of the small window. "Eric, please sit back down," the woman at the desk said. I paused, then nodded, and took my seat again.

         "Eric...your mother has said that...you hear voices. Is that true?"

         The room became eerily silent, and I felt a lump clogging up my throat. The only sounds that could be heard were the faint wailing of the patients, as I gazed at the floor.

         "Eric I need to know the tr-"

         "Voices...voices voices voices....what are they? Disturbances in the air...sound waves...but in your head? That's a conscious. I don't believe in consciousness...my friends...they speak to me...but for some reason, only I can sense them..."

         "What do they say to you?"

         I looked up at her, smiling softly. "They don't mean any harm, they help me. Help me with many things. Though I cannot remember what."

         Her beady eyes peered intently at me, trying to figure out what I meant. "Can you elaborate?"

         I frowned but nodded. "When they help me...everything goes black. And then I wake up at home."

         She got up and whispered to my mother, and she nodded. "Ok Eric, please follow me."

         Briskly, she moved to the door and opened it, and guided me down the hallway. She was walking so fast, and my breaths began to shorten, especially as we went to the steps. A cart moved by, carrying multiple dirty clothes that smelled putrid. I tapped the woman's shoulder, and she turned around, her face turning solemn.

         "Do you need something?"

         I paused, then nodded. "I need to go home. I need to be with my family."

         She smirked, scoffing at me. "Your home is here now. Your family abandoned you, they don't have the time to be watching over you. You're unstable, and your best bet is to follow me, and not put up a fight."

         My shoulders slumped, I was stunned. I wanted to go home. This place freaked me out; the putrid smell, there were faces peering through glass of some of the patients rooms, staring at me, and other rooms were blacked out. "Momma said I could go home...I want to go home."

         "This is your home."

         She grabbed my hand and dragged me the rest of the way to my room. She opened the door, and walked me in, then went back to the door. "Someone will bring you to the commons room, in about 30 minutes, to eat obviously. I'll be back in 40 to bring you your clothes."

         I scanned the room, looking for something to entertain me, but there was nothing. The floor was slightly clean, but stained with something yellow, and it had that same horrid stench. The bed - if you could even call it that - was a thin mat on top of a wire frame, dressed with thin white sheets. A small bucket in the corner of the room, and a small window, which was barred up. There was a small nightstand, more like a footstool with an analog clock. "10:40.."

         I went over to the bed, pushing on it, but it sagged, and yellow water sploshed to the place I pressed. Grossed out, I moved to the corner where the floor was white, and no mess stained the walls. I sat down, curling up, and shuddered at the thought of being here any longer.

         The clock buzzed, a preset alarm sounding, and my door was unlocked. I didn't even bother to look up, and whoever walked in turned off the wretched sound. I was dragged up, against my will, and I screamed. "Let go! I need to get home!"

         'Home....home is a great place, Eric....you want to go home?'


         'I can help you, I've always been able to help you.'

         My vision went foggy, and I felt numb. A pain in my shoulder, just for a moment, and my vision cleared. I was on the floor, restrained, and a nurse who must have been handling me, pulled a long needle out of my skin, reading thorazine.

         "Be a good kid now, boy."

         The nurse glared at me, then let me get up, taking me down the hallway. I was chained to a table away from the others, isolated. A tray was set in front of me with a bad excuse for a meal. Slop...like the bed...

         I refused the food, and sat there. The patients started wandering around, but I was taken straight back to that cell-like room. I asked for a pencil and paper, and was givin it, but they watched me the whole time I used it. I drew flowers, many flowers, and a dark figure. Wrote 'You stole my friend and my life.'

         Slipped the drawing under the door, the person took it, and I had stared at them, waiting for their reaction. They looked at me, taking a pen from their pocket, and wrote back, 'you are insane, don't forget it.' They taped that side to the window, where I could see those ugly words.

~ Many Weeks Later ~

These walls are stained

Words in red from my pained attempts and pleas for help

Screams unheard, forgotten, ignored

Scattered remains, glass embedded in my skin

I wish for a way to escape

For a way to relieve myself of this pain

What happened to the voices who accompanied me?

Why have I been abandoned


         I stare at the small curled up body, a broken glass jabbed through its chest. I smiled. My friends finally came back for me...I'll be able to live peacefully, free from this place. Relieved, I walked out of the room, nobody seemed to notice, and I continued down the hallway, to the front entrance. I opened the door, and walked down the steps, smiling as the sun hit my face. I closed my eyes, opening my arms.

          I opened my eyes again, finding myself staring back at the heap. I tried to get out of the room, as quickly as possible, closing my eyes and finding myself back where I started. I screamed out in agony, grabbing my hair, and crouching down, tears streaming down my face.

         I would never be able to leave, never, never, NEVER!

"You are insane, don't forget it...."

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