I woke up in my bed. I was in shock by the dream I had just awoken from.
I was used to the nightmare about my wife. But never before have I had one about my daughter.
I began to tear up once more as I recalled the events of the dream. I may not be insane. But I deserve to be here for what I did.
I looked around the room to see that it was still dark.
This meant it was still late at night. Or early in the morning.
Following the same protocol as before I hopped out of bed. And began heading for the hallway.
I was met at the door by a nurse doing rounds. She was the cute blonde nurse who gave me the Ativan the day prior.
Her blonde hair was freely hanging down to her shoulders, over her black hospital scrubs.
She looked amazing.
I know they say don't fall for nurses or patients in this place. But this chick, I would gladly make an exception.
"Hi Jack" she said sweetly.
I stared at her blankly. I wanted to ignore her. However I knew that she was just doing her job. Coupled with the fact that she had been very nice to me.
I smiled at her.
"Hello" I said quietly. As I continued to smile.
She noticed that I was leaving my room. And she began to block the doorway.
"Where are you going?" She asked still maintaining her chipper sweet tone.
I told her that I was going to check the clock. She smiled and proceeded to block the door.
"It's very late Jack, nobody else is up except us." She explained.
I stared at her for a second as I began to realize I had slept through the whole day.
"Can I take a shower?" I asked calmly.
I hadn't showered since I had been admitted. Most likely due to the depression.
She stared at me for a moment as if contemplating my request. After a moment she smiled.
"Okay." She began. "Take a shower and then come see me. I'll give you something to help you get back to sleep." She offered as she cleared the doorway urging me out of the room.
We walked down the hall quietly as we headed for the shower room. She handed me some soaps and shampoo containers from a cabinet outside of the room and sent me inside.
It was your typical psych ward shower room.
A single button activated shower.
The shower was set at a warm heat steering. You couldn't get it hot enough to burn yourself in the shower. the shower was also set to only about a minute's worth of water running.
This made it less likely for someone to try and drown themselves. I looked to the left of the room to find a towel. Again not big enough to allow for a person to try and suffocate themselves. I sighed as I realized I was going to have to press a button every minute. And dry off with what was practically a wash cloth.
I stepped inside the shower after stripping my hospital gown off along with my underwear.
I hopped into the shower and looked for a curtain to pull. To my surprise there wasn't one. No doubt another anti suicide measure.
These people really don't mess around.
Killing yourself here would be harder than than carving a pumpkin with a plastic butter knife.... It was next to impossible.
I began to scrub my hair and body as I recalled the events from the nightmare. I remembered my daughter falling to the floor, blood pouring out of her neck.
I remembered the sad, scared expression on her face as I sat next to her as she died.
I began to feel sick to my stomach.
I finished my shower in less than the minute the shower had provided and stepped out.
I began drying myself with the small towel provided.
Once finished I got dressed and headed out the door. I then walked to the nurses desk at the front of the hallway.
She smiled as she stared at me.
"Take this." The nurse said softly. As she handed me a small cup with a pill in it. I stared in confusion.
"What is it?" I asked calmly but still a bit worried.
I wasn't just going to blindly take a pill without knowing what I was taking. I stared at her for several seconds until finally she spoke to me.
"It will help you get back to sleep for a few hours." The nurse explained.
I took the cup from her hand and tipped it back. But I didn't swallow the pill.
She must have trusted that I took it because she then took the cup and urged me back to my room.
I walked back to my room still saddened by my nightmare.
It was no doubt the medication. There could be no other answer. I had the other dream often.
Coincidentally after I started eating the medications that are "Supposed to help". I began being taunted by nightmares of my daughter's murder as well.
This made me feel a burst of anger that overtook my sadness in that moment
"Fuck this place!" I said to myself as I opened the door to my room. I
I walked into the bathroom section of my room and spit the pill into the toilet flushing it down.
I then walked out of the bathroom and sat on my bed.
My thoughts kept bouncing between the guilt I felt for killing my family, And the anger I felt towards this place, To the nurses, And most of all that fucking Doctor.
I hated him!
I hated him more than I have ever hated anyone.
He is keeping me here. He knows I'm not crazy. I know he knows I'm telling the truth. But he is making a killing from prescribing me medications and telling me that I'm fucking crazy.
He's going to milk my situation like a prized cow.
I could feel my blood burning in rage as I sat there in sadness and anger.
