Fall Again (a Michael Jackson fanfiction)

5. Clemmie Woods

Michaels POV 🥀

"Michael, we've assessed you and we believe you are a high risk to your own safety."

I stared dully at the doctor, hardly taking in what he was saying. He talked about all sorts of things that I hardly listened to, then something made me sit up straight and stare at the doctor. "You're WHAT?"

"We are detaining you and sending you to Clemmie Woods adult psychiatric hospital. They have a free bed so you will be able to go tomorrow, ambulance will assist you over there and you will stay there until a doctor reviews you and declares you safe for discharge. They do all kinds of therapy at Clemmie Woods, and they can sort out a medication combination that will help you."

"I don't need that!" I said in horror. "I want to go home, I just want to go home."

"Mr Jackson, let me make this clear - you nearly died when you came here a few nights ago. This is for your good. You'll find Clemmie Woods very helpful, I should think."

I turned away and looked at a spot on the floor, blocking it all out. I ignored the rest of what Dr Turner said. I wasn't interested, I had no tears left to cry, I was just numb.

I didn't sleep that night. I knew I'd be setting off the next morning and needed rest, as the nurses kept telling me, but I couldn't sleep. I don't even know how I felt, sad? Angry? Terrified shitless? I didn't even know. None of them felt right to whatever I was feeling.

I was told that when we got to Clemmie Woods that I could have a shower. I desperately wanted one, but I didn't know if I'd even have the energy. I wouldn't be transferred there until later this afternoon, maybe I'd have more energy then. I scrolled through my phone all morning, and I had lots of messages.
I wanted to read them, to reassure myself that maybe I was loved after all, but I really couldn't cope with talking to anyone right now.

At 12.30 they brought me lunch, but I wasn't hungry. I just sat up in bed, picking at the cotton blue blanket on my bed. I glanced at the food, it was a Sunday so there was roast and a small pot of red jelly.

I picked up the jelly and spoon and slowly ate it but didn't touch the roast dinner. I didn't want to be sick again.

I leant on my side and struggled to get just a little bit of sleep during my last few hours here before I was taken to Clemmie Woods.
I couldn't.