I keep telling them to take me back, but they don’t fucking listen…
I can’t stay away from her any longer—it’s killing me, literally.
I am once again on the hospital bed, my hands bandaged and handcuffed in front of me? A bitter scoff leaves me at the sight. Whom are they trying to save me from? Myself? What else did they expect? For me to stay sane while they rip away the only person who has been my anchor?
Dad’s words have gotten to me in the past couple of weeks, they have been ringing in my head until I had no choice but to believe them—and so I did. Without her, there’s just my own fucking head because my ears listen for only her voice, her gentle voice, her comforting touches… those are exactly what I need when past guilt bubbles its way up to the surface. But these bastards won’t let me have her even after almost a hundred new scars formed on my hands in barely 3 weeks. They think I’m fucking manipulating them into sending me back. I know I am good at that kind of shit but right now, in this moment, I’m not…
If she isn’t here to tell me she cares, to see the worst parts of me and decide to love me anyway, then guilt and anguish claw their way up threatening to consume me whole… and so I let it, because what other choice do I have? My only respite from this unforgiving, cruel world has been ripped apart and I was forced to watch.
It’s not only about her, but also the asylum, the place I had spent 4 years of my life at and of course—my boy Nico. Did Inez tell him that I have been transferred to another hospital? Probably not, she doesn’t want to see him hurt but she can’t lie forever, can she?
After a while, a doctor walks in, same uniform, same shrink, same badge. “Mr. Riven, what caused you to do such an… impulsive action? You lost almost 100 ml of blood.” She asks the same questions Inez would have had if she saw me like this, but unlike her, there is no warmth, no concern in this shrink’s eyes, just cold professional detachment.
I don’t answer—why should I? One sentence won’t do any good. After I told them to take me back a million times and yet they didn’t. The doctor waits for a while and when I don’t answer, she writes something down on the notepad. With a sigh she tries again,
“Mr. Riven, if you won’t tell us anything then how are we supposed to treat you?”
“Only she will treat me. I won’t allow anyone else to. Send me back to my hospital.”
She doesn’t say anything back, just gets up, gets me a glass of water and keeps it at the corner of the table and then walks out. Did she keep it there to trigger a reaction out of me? Damn it. I try to reach out for the glass of water, but they tied my fucking hands. Gosh, I know she did this on purpose—using my OCD against me. Inez would never…
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
With my handcuffed hands, I reach out to remove a rod from the bed’s railing—the removable one so that you can get off the bed. Somehow, managing to remove it, I shift the glass perfectly to the centre of the table. Much better. Putting the rod back in place, I notice the same shrink looking at me secretly, thinking she’s slick with it. I slowly land my eyes on her, giving her enough time to run away—but she doesn’t. I hold her gaze with a manic one of my own for a while before she turns back and makes her exit
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As I sit in the darkness of the night,
With not even a soul in sight
My hand filled with scars,
Show that I have been through many wars
Not with others though,
With myself, as I say so.
On canvases, artists paint,
But I do it on my hand, with blood red and faint,
They use brushes made of jade,
While all I use is a simple blade
Love yourself they say,
But how can I, when people show so much hate...
****************************************************************************************
Gosh, this is the only relief I have had since they took me away from her, she was the only thing keeping me sane and now that I don’t have her, I have officially fucking lost it. I drag the blade higher…
higher…
higher…
Until there is a line tracing from my forearm till my wrist, shit...too much...
But I don’t have another option, do I? They don’t take me back no matter what I do. But I’m going to keep doing this until they do. I need her, because without her these voices just don’t shut up.
higher…
Every moment I spend away from her is torcher, every second my mind whispers “another second away from her and something bad is going to happen.” These thoughts cloud my mind, and I can’t look away, I try to run away from them but without her being my anchor, my lifeline, I can’t no matter how much I try. If they keep me here any longer, fuck, I guess I will let the voices win—Because at least it’s better than staying away from her.
higher…
My vision goes blurry, my eyes clouded by a haze of black but I keep going, keep dragging the blade until…it drops from my hand and just like that, again, I am in the same state they found me last night also…barely alive, blade by my side, and a hell lot of blood on the floor.
