My Insanity Cure

Dont cry over spilt paint

One of the patients had an episode over spilt paint. I know that may sound unusual but for someone who has ADHD and OCD, a drop of paint in the wrong place can trigger a lot of anger.

And so the rest of us were sent back to our prison cells. I was disappointed but it didn't change much because the mysterious boy was just that; mysterious. It was clear that he wasn't going to tell me his name, and he wasn't going to tell me why he wouldn't reveal his name so I had no other choice but to leave it at that.

He was intriguing, and different. Different in a way that made me want to know more about him. I think that those who are deprived of freedom, happiness and love are the ones who appreciate those things the most. That's how he seemed; appreciative of freedom.

I could see it in his eyes. He hadn't been able to see the burning sun or the endless fields of green grass freely for a long time.

"Morning Reese, you're awake?!" Olivers cheered in a questioning tone, distracting me from my thoughts. He usually has to drag me out of bed, so it was no surprise that my being awake shocked him.

"Strange, isn't it?" I remarked, a smug expression smeared across my face.

Olivers grabbed his pen from behind his ear and started scribbling on the sheets attached to his famous clipboard, "well this is an improvement, getting out of this room has helped you a lot so far." He stated, clearly proud of his choice to let me downstairs yesterday. I nodded quickly in reply.

"So we've all been talking and we strongly believe that-" I cut him off, "that what.."

Olivers sent me a deathly stare, the kind that the teacher gives you when you shout out instead of raising your hand. "That it would be beneficial for a lady named Dana to be your councillor. She's also a nurse and will be taking over morning visits with you, but not to worry, I'm not going anywhere." Dr.Olivers smiled.

Don't get me wrong I also think that a lady councillor would help me, but that's not the news I woke up early for.

"Okay whatever, can I go downstairs today?" The words came out of my mouth before I could even stop them.

How polite of me.

Olivers let out a half hearted laugh, "of course, I'll be up in an hour to collect you, for now here's your breakfast and medication."

In the institute we have different rooms for different patients. The ones that first arrive get a standard room with a bed, a set of drawers, and a desk. I know, it sounds harsh, but honestly its quite smart. Of course the nurses and doctors have no idea what new patients are capable of, meaning they had to keep it as basic as possible. Beginner patients didn't get their own toilet, shower or sink; we were escorted to special ones. Like I said, it's smart really; if I had my own bathroom, with my own mirror, I'd smash it apart and attempt again to be brutally honest.

I didn't have a mirror, and for once I wanted one just to look at my reflection.

Oh no I'm becoming that girl.

A boy I'd met the day before, a boy I didn't know anything about, made me that girl. I wanted to look my best, but I was locked away in a mental hospital, so that really wasn't an option.

The longer you're here, the more they know you- or at least that's what they think, so I was on my best behaviour to hopefully get a more advanced room.

Finally, after the longest hour of my life Olivers and I were walking down those familiar hallways toward the room that I'd been excited to return to since the previous night.