[02] bitter

they appreciated her for being expressive, but punished her all the same.

initially, the thoughts were supposed to belong to every person with borderline and the pills were ought to be working.

they didn't, thanks to desert being such a charming and attractive piece of shit with a shittier mind. so no feeling better for her, only worse. she could totally see a sarcastic her smiling and dancing about all happy about what's happening and however the hell she got herself to do anything with it.

so turns out, sketching—or even expressing was one heck of a bad idea.

blood, bullets, knives, broken bones, leaking guts, detached arms and legs were part of things she impulsively drew, but still, to betray every inch of emotion that she felt seemed like an impossible and distant task to do.

desert wanted to do all of those things to myself, one by one, slowly, precisely, mainly because the mental pain compared to no such physical torture but hurting always helped.

her doctor worried herself for the worst of all.

~

"hello desert, how have you been doing?" he had said with a warm smile as i took a seat, my parents repeating my action.

"i've had better days, dr. alby." i had replied, oblivious to what impact my choice of words made.

"have you been taking your pills timely?"

"yes."

"then i don't see—ah, you've brought your sketchbook once again, is it something you'd want me to see?" still warm smile, eye contact and all. very annoying old man, i must say.

"i think so." i broke eye contact as i handed him the little rugged blue notebook.

he took it from me and slowly leafed through the pages, repeating through previously seen sketches, moving on to the fresh one, eyes concentrating, face betraying hint of a strange pain inside him. if i could feel anything other than negative emotions, i swear i would feel very sorry for the senile man to have to see such horrifying stuff, but i didn't.

"how do you feel about your daughter drawing such imagery?" dr. alby asked both of my parents, as he finished going through the notebook. i sat quiet.

"it worries us senseless, dr. alby," said my dad.

dr. alby nodded and then continued, "as expected, alex. we'll have to work on it but trust me, i'll get your daughter all good."

turning to me, the annoying old fool spoke,"you do realise that your thoughts running more out of control than they already have may be a little more dangerous than we can afford, desert, don't you?"

"yes, dr. alby, i do."

"in that case, i'm sure you must understand the acute need of keeping you under inspection twenty-four seven so that we can adjust your medication to suit you the best."

"i-i'm not sure," i had said as i averted my gaze from the elderly man sitting directly in front of me to my mother, hoping my eyes were expressive enough to betray the unsettling emotion was feeling at the thought of being hospitalized.

"that's understandable," the doctor smiled warmly then continued, "i'll have a quick talk with your parents, if you may please." he motioned towards the door.

i was too much of a mess to say anything, so i simply nodded and made my way towards the lobby.

as i sat in a cold seat alone, i kind of dug for some company beside me right now.

honestly, the idea of being admitted in a mental institute was a hundred percent more terrifying to me than a good old general hospital. it was a choking, suffocating, isolating thought to me. to be trapped in a phenyl reeking hospital room and not being able to do anything about it.

my palms were sweaty.

i needed to let loose, so i threw my head back and let the thoughts surround me but without my consciousness there to respond to them.

the clinic had been busy that day, as time ticked by all the people around me were suddenly sitting too close, suffocating me. i began tapping my foot slowly, carefully, to let out the anxiety that was building up inside me.

isn't. helping. tap faster. no. tap. faster. okay.

tap faster. faster but never fast enough. i clutched my head.

you are a walking disaster. a weirdo. stop. a creep. shut up.

faster.

i pulled at my hair as i brought my head into my lap, this wasn't some place where i'd choose to create a scene but i guess 'the world isn't a wish-granting factory'.

in no time i was curled in a ball on my seat, rocking back and forth, internally screaming at myself for being the way i am, a loser.

i could see a few people staring from under the cover of my blue mane, it wasn't what i wanted but it certainly did help in making me more nervous.

the internal screaming became external, the staff surrounded me, it made me more of a wreck.

isn't. helping. i hate you.

back and forth. back and forth. scream. tears. hot tears. you're stupid to be crying. what a self-depreciating fool.

i was crying, i didn't want to cry. the thoughts were coming back at me, so were the images i didn't want to see. i didn't want to go anywhere, i didn't want to leave home.

"i don't want to go." i choked out, the people around me were confused. someone was saying something, i couldn't pay attention. i didn't want to.

it wasn't until i saw my parents get out of the psychiatrist's room that i uncurled myself and ran to my mother in a haze.

i was quiet now, silently hurting. "what did he say, mom?"

"i-they'll be admitting you in the hospital." she answered softly, looking into my blue eyes with her ocean ones. "if you don't improve soon."

"mom-you know." i said looking down.

"yes, honey, i understand what you must be going through, but he said it's necessary for your own wellbeing."

"but i don't care about my wellbeing mom." i said.

"you don't but we do honey, i swear i'll be by your side all the time. it won't be that bad,"

"are you joking mom? you know. i can't do it. i'll—i'll choke myself there." the tears were fast to go down on a rerun.

my mom was quiet then.

"you know what, mom? i don't care, whatever, i'll deal with it. just—take me home." i spoke a few moments later. i felt like i had no energy to keep going just now.

instead she took me back to dr. alby to have a chat. i hated that i ended up agreeing with him even after telling him my little phobia for hospitals after grandpa but, he had his points.

back home, i lay curled into a ball on my bed as daylight switched places with moonlight and lay awake all night.

oh, the horror.