Mare Moody - [blank]

It's different.

He understands us.

I agree with the voices which scares me more than anything. Then again, I am learning how to control them so I honestly don't know if it's them or if it's my actual thoughts.

"Is there something wrong with the trash can?" Nurse Juay says from behind me.

"Huh?" I ask, coming out of my thoughts.

She points to the trash can and chuckles.

"You were intently staring at it."

"Oh. Sorry." I say embarrassed.

"Are you sure you are done eating?" She asks.

"Um, yeah."

She breathes out heavily and her disappointment returns.

"It's time for medications," she says, "but you don't have any so you can sit in the lounge with me while everyone gets theirs."

"Ok."

Each table gets up in skewed tandem and line up at the door. It takes all of three minutes to get every patient out of their seats and into line. They walk like cattle, stumbling to get their drug induced euphoria. I can see the appeal but at the same time, I count myself lucky for being able to skip that whole process. It seems more daunting than awarding when I see some of the elderly people here who talk to walls and stare at me for no apparent reason.

I walk behind them through the hallway until the line stops in front of the nurses' station. A tray has been spread on the counter with small dixie cups of antipsychotics. Each cup has a label on it with a patient's name. From a side view, I see my name on a cup. All that lies in it is my benadryl for sleeping. I count myself as one of the lucky ones.

Nurse Juay leads me around the line and further into the long hallway. The skein ends as a new room begins. Tables and chairs lay scattered across the floor. The room is completely empty but it shows signs of past use. A large bay window pours sunlight over the metal chairs, heating them in its track. I walk over to a table and sit. The metal is hot to the touch but once my hands adjust to the temperature, it cools. On my table, a deck of cards sits. I eye it, debating whether to play a game.

"Do you want to play connect four?" Nurse Juay asks, gesturing to the table next to me. The connect four looks a lot less abused than the deck of cards but I prefer to play games that depend on chance rather than skill. I lack skill in anything that takes an actual thought process.

"I'm good," I say. I reach out and grab the deck box. All 52 cards spill out in front of me. Each card looks just as desecrated as the last. I begin to sort the cards by suit and color. This sort of activity always calms my nerves even if they aren't that active in the first place — then again, when are they not active?

As I organize, a cacophony of babbles, chatter and fuss grows in the corridor. I look up as a band of newly medicated patients come into view. They gaggle in one by one through the threshold and sit in chairs throughout the room. I keep my head down, attempting to camouflage myself and make my demeanor unfriendly. This fails entirely as two men walk up to me and each take seats at the table.

"Ready to play cards?" A man with gleaming teeth and dark skin looks at me intently, "I bet I'll beat you at Rat Slap!"

"Yeah, count me in!" The other man says. This man sits in his bathrobe, pajama pants and slippers with his bald head shining in the sunlight.

They seem overly excited and though I can be a rude asshole, maybe they would be a good distraction from the impending socialization materializing around me.

"What are we going to play?" I say attempting to match their enthusiasm. Hopefully I can feign it until my appointment.

Only so many card games can be therapeutic. After my fifth hand of 'Rat Slap,' I want to slap the nurse who suggests 'Go Fish.'

"Oh come on," the nurse soughs, "it will be fun. You are up to see Dr. Simmons next."

"Can't I just go see Dr. Simmons now?" I throw down my hand of cards onto the table.

"You had a matching pair!" Bathrobe guy yells. He points at my strewn cards in pure excitement. I roll my eyes and right before my mouth opens to express my displeasure, the nurse walks around the corner. Her ponytail is messy as ever.

"Ready for your appointment?" Nurse Juay asks me.

"Yes," I sigh, "finally."

"So he lectured you on the voices?" Brook asks me as we walk down the hallway, on our way to the visitors section. I knew I would get lost if I didn't go with someone who actually their way around.

"Yeah, he says I can control them without medications." I say exhausted. Although it was only my second session, it was twice as fatiguing as the first. During the initial one, he told me I was schizophrenic. During the second he drilled the fact into my bones and forced me to actually address the voices. Have you ever gone up to your boss and told them to their face all of the wrongdoings they have done to you? If you have, you understand the mental distress it causes. Apparently I am 'strong' enough to 'get passed this.'

"I'm just telling you from experience, medications definitely help." He says, shaking his head. He chuckles lightly and looks back at me.

For the second time, I am caught in his glance. His vibrant green eyes kill me. His dumb smile, though annoying initially is completely entrancing. Goddamnit, why do I keep falling for so many people? I don't even know if I have fallen for him. I am just going to blame my hormones. This baby is doing weird things to me. But then again… Noah is out of my life, Kane is out of my life. The father spot is open wide for Brook to fill in. What am I even thinking? No. This is ridiculous. I can't do this to my head again. Why am I so addicted to effects of feelings. Maybe it is just my way of living in a romance book rather than reality. Only good things happening. Sexy sex and dastardly attractive heros to save the heroine. Ugh.

"My mom is over there," Brook says, breaking our eye contact, "I'll talk to you later, ok?"

"Yeah," I say. I still have no idea who came to see me. Nurse Juay simply said that somebody came to visit me and somehow to knew the hours without me calling them. I hope it is Tabitha. She is the only person from outside that I am ok with seeing me in this mental state. I stand in the middle of the room like a deer in the headlights. I see people from all walks of life standing with their families and friends. A line of security guards and nurses stand in the doorway. They occasionally open the door for a visitor. I turn away from the door. I don't want to be seen by anybody else's family. For some reason it makes me self-conscious.

Ana?

I can't listen to the voices. They can't take over this moment.

Ana, i t ' s m e.

Wait.

"Ana?"

I turn around. I see him and my whole body irks. I feel like vomiting and rejoicing at the same time. My whole conscious is tied into knots. I am elated yet scared. I don't know how to react yet I know exactly what to say.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I exclaim. The bellow is a strange mixture of hate and love.

"I wanted to see you," Kane says. I am not surprised that he is in a mental hospital but I always thought it would be him as the patient and not me.

"How did you know?" I am flabbergasted.

"I saw the mess in my house… I called the police and they said they saved a suicidal girl. I asked who and they told me. They also told me where you were so I looked up the visiting hours."

"Um, are you ok?" He asks with such smoothness and love. The doctor says I am bipolar but I'd love to send him in for an evaluation. I think he would get similar results.

"I mean, I guess," I say.

"Why did you leave?" He questions. He sounds hurt.