4 Hours Of Hell

The nurse called my name from the hallway. My heart pounded faster than it already was and I stared at the ugly blue couch with the ugly leaf pattern, green and brown, green and brown...
I heard my name again and stood up, some force other than my own moving my legs to the small booth where I gave my information. Name, date of birth, therapist, medications, doctors, etc.
They told me to enter the next room where my vitals would be taken. I was shaking now. The nurse was a young woman in her 20's. She smiled and asked me to step on the scale. I obeyed. She put a small bit of rubber over my finger which took my pulse, and a strap around my arm to take my blood pressure. It hurt. Then she told me that all of my belongings were to be taken from me and locked in a closet. This is where I started to cry. I no longer felt like a person. The nurse escorted me to the tiny bathroom where the door was left ajar. I took off my clothes, leaving on my underwear, striped stocking (yes, because of Emilie Autumn) and pentacle. I put on the disgusting blue scrubs. It's always blue with hospitals. When I stepped out of the bathroom, the gorilla man grunted "The necklace has to go." My most valuable possession, my sanity in a little metal circle, my pentacle. I didn't know how to part with it. The shaking increased as I placed my best friend in the cold plastic bag.  They instructed me to sit on a stretcher in the hallway. That completely freaked me out. I'm not sick, I can stand! I tried to protest but a beefy man with a ridiculous biker-esque mustache said unapologetically "You have to sit on the stretcher" and I quickly obeyed, not wanting his huge hands on me. I sat and I cried... and cried... and cried... then finally they put me in a room with five horrible tan walls and a tiny television nearly on the ceiling that I turned off immediately. I paced and paced and paced, all around the room, then settled for standing in the corner next to the tiny window that would show the hallway outside if there weren't blinders covering it from the other side. I stayed there for the longest time... then a woman came in and offered me lunch. I said I didn't want any, there was no way I could eat in this place, but that's not how things work. You eat when they want you to eat. I let her bring me a gigantic tray of food (a soggy grilled cheese sandwich, a carton of milk, an odd tub of apple juice, another tub of ice cream, and two cookies). I didn't touch a thing, half because I didn't want it and half out of rebellion because that's as rebellious you can be here. After what felt like forever, someone finally came in to talk to me. She asked me just HOW suicidal I am. She asked if I cut. If I want to kill myself right now. If I plan on killing myself. I gave her what she wanted with a touch of truth. She left and I was alone for another eternity until she said that she didn't intend on keeping me here. Hooray! I'm out! Right? No. I had to stay there for at least another hour while they did paperwork and made appointments with psychiatrists and whatever else they were doing.... Then FINALLY I got my beloved plastic bag labeled "PERSONAL BELONGINGS" got dressed, and headed out. Lesson learned, never tell anyone you're suicidal.
HunterFae HunterFae
18-21, T
May 9, 2012