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"Scarlett"
I stare straight into the white walls of my room not doing anything, just idly sitting there. There's a whole lot of things inside my head making me internally exhausted, if that's even a thing.
"Scarlett just please," Mike starts again, "just please say something, anything."
"I'm tired," is all that I could say. Mike heaves out a deep breath as he leans against the wall. He's sitting beside me in my bed for like half an hour now, but I couldn't think of anything to say to him, I couldn't think of anything to do next. Like I said, I'm exhausted and even forcing out a single word out of my mouth is exhausting.
"You know you can tell me everything," Mike says after a few more minutes of deafening silence. I just stare straight ahead not moving. I hear him sigh close to giving up, but he still isn't leaving my side.
"I have to make rounds," Mike announces after a few seconds, "I'll be back later okay?"
Silence.
He closes the door to my room locking it. I look at the folder neatly placed on top of the little table beside my bed. This time, I moved. I went closer to the table until I reached for the folder. My hands are shaking. When I get ahold of the folder, with my hands trembling, some contents of it falls down onto the floor. Papers scattered onto my bed. I reached for the first piece.
Listed on the piece of paper are things about me like my name, age, there is a home address, date I was admitted for the first time, and beside it is also the date from where I first visited the sanitarium.
Reading that raised another question in my mind. It states here that I was admitted around August on the year 2008, but also beside it states that on July of the year before that, I had a first visit in this place. Does that mean that I had been a patient in here even before?
I continue to read through the paper more, scanning for details. Below is a list of diagnosis.
Mild Schizoprenia
Personality Disorder
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
Bipolar Disorder
Post-traumatic Disorder (due to a tragic incident that occurred prior to March 2007)
I had hoped that by reading this, there would be flashbacks to my childhood just like what had happened last night, but as I continue on reading, instead of flashbacks, a whole roll of questions pops inside my head. I can't remember anything.
And what about the Post-traumatic Disorder that is stated in there? What incident occurred? My mind is swirling and I feel even more exhausted, but I'm thirsty for answers. All I want is to find answers, and I thought that by seeing my records, I would get those desired answers. But fate really isn't on my side even before.
