The smoking room

Breathe

« Breathe, » I keep telling myself. Long, deep breathing. « Flex your toes, » I order my body. The shape doesn't move. Sometimes, the sound of the AC transforms into murmurs. It's one of these times.
I try to retake control over my body. Not letting my brain putting visions of horror in my real world. In my almost safe world.
I don't understand the words it mutters. I wish I could scream. Telling it « I don't fucking understand you! ». It wouldn't care. It doesn't move. Excepts for its lips. It's humanoid in form tonight. Not always the case. Long hair. Wet. Dark. Probably black. I could draw its bones. Almost. No flesh under the skin. Its face I almost can't see. That's when I understand the words.
« Look at me, » it implores « look at me! »
I can't help myself. I look closer. Its lips are too wide. Black teeth and gums. I don't know if it's laughing or crying. Its shoulders keep going up and down as it repeats its plea. Its cheeks are bony. Purple and blue veins are drawned on them coming from the eyes. And then I see them. Its eyes. It doesn't have eyes. Not anymore. The lids were sewn together. Black spots of thick blood on the thread. Like glue. Then it moves. Its head goes to the side, like a child asking for candy. Its hair moving so I can see better.
« Look at me. »
Something pushes from behind the sewn lids.
« Look at me. »
The skin rips slowly.
« Look at what they did to me! » it screams.
Fingers. Male fingers coming from inside its head rip the thread. Their black nails move. It has fingers inside its head. It comes closer, the fingers moving slowly. I still can't say if it's crying or laughing. I don't want it to touch me. If it touches me, something will happen. I don't know what. And I don't want to know.

« Medication! » says the nurse. I completely wake up. The picture of the moving fingers still imprinted in me. I sit down in my bed. 10 pm medication. I slept three hours. Not bad. The man in its white uniform gives me two small white pills.
« Nightmare again? Why don't you want to take sleepin- », he starts.
« It makes it worse. You already know, » I answer, swallowing the vallium like the good girl I am. I faint a smile. He shakes his head and just tells me « good night » even if we both know. I won't sleep again tonight.

I get up and go to my closet. Then, sitting down at my desk, I roll myself a cigarette. Used to buy them premade. Bad idea. I smoked almost twenty a day. By rolling them myself I got down to ten. I scratch my shoulder, where my nicorette patch is. Now, I smoke around two to three. Doesn't stop me to go though. To the smoking room.

It's disgusting. There is no ashtray so we use plastic cups and bowls that melt and smell. A lot of patients just use the window pane and the ashes and buds accumulate against the wire netting. The nurses forgot about a rolling chair that's been there since I arrived. People play with it sometimes. The place isn't wide and just long enough for patients to fight when the playing goes too far. It feels even tighter because of the dozens of tags on the walls. I like it. It's my safe space at night. While other patients are knocked off with pills, I just chill there. And I can remember.
I'm Elisabeth. Elisabeth P. I ain't just a diagnosis. A woman with anxiety disorder and sleep paralysis. I'm someone. There used to be nice paintings of a forest and a lake on the walls. But the people made it theirs. And it's fine like that. It's better like that. So that we don't forget ourselves in the fog of the medication and the therapy. Not that I'm against it. I want it to help. And it helps some of us. Just not me.
Here, the AC doesn't blast like in my room. I keep asking the nurses to stop it there. But it's no use. So I stay here. In the warmth. Away from nightmares. Away from the cold. I listen to the sirens that bring new patients from time to time. Either to us or to some place less sordid.
I look up to my favorite tag. It wad made by someone who signed benaichouche. On August fifth 2019.
« S O U F F R I R
O F F R I R
S O U V R I R
S O U R I R E »
Doesn't work that well in english though.
« TO SUFFER
TO OFFER
TO OPEN
TO SMILE »
Still, I don't know why, I like it.

I look to the protected window. I'll just have to wait now. To wait until the morning. Until I can't hear the demons calling. Until they've been kicked out.