Tell the Truth, Xavier, School Spirits
CHAPTER 3: Medication
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Themes: Forced drugging, forced treatment, committed against will, sane and wrongfully committed.
Blinding fluorescent lights buzzed on overhead, paired with the sound of keys and heavy-footed staff moving down the hallway. Every door opened in sequence. Including his.
“Good morning, Xavier,” A man with a clipboard in hand somehow spoke gently and loudly at the same time as he stepped into the room, “Time to get up. You’ve got fifteen minutes until meds.”
He sat up slowly, disoriented. His head throbbed with a pressure that didn’t feel like a headache - more like a fog behind his eyes. He wanted to pull the sheet over his head and stay there.
He thought he had dreamed something, maybe. Someone calling his name. Maddie maybe?
But it was gone now. His memory had been slipping since the drugs had started just a few short days ago. The sense of guilt remained though. A guilt that hovered somewhere in his chest no matter what he said or did. He let people down now no matter how hard he tried.
He considered doing what he wanted- staying there in bed… but a prevailing logical thought reminded him he should cooperate- he needed to make it clear he wasn’t supposed to be here. These were new people. Maybe they would listen. Or they'd simply see- see that he was of sound mind. He just needed to show them that.
So there he was, sitting up on the side of the bed, hair askew and eyes foggy but compliant and ready when a nurse and an orderly with too much gel in his hair entered the small room. With an odd disconcerting sensation Xavier registered that they didn’t knock.
The man was snapping on gloves which struck Xavier as odder still. Why on earth would he need them?
“Good morning Xavier, this is your first med time of the day, Brad and I are going to talk you through it so you can learn the routine,” the nurse said in a bright and rehearsed voice.
He was still sitting, but now more rigid, his arms pulled close in around his sides. His plan was going to scrap sooner than he had intended, “I’m not taking anything more.”
The woman’s voice didn’t change- overexaggerated and child show tone, “Xavier, you’ll see the doctor this morning but before we do anything each morning all patients take their meds. There are no exceptions. Today, you’re going to take a low dose of risperidone and a mild sedative. Split River Psych started it and we are going to continue that until the doctor gets to know you. Medicine is good for you and will help you settle in.”
“I don’t want help,” Xavier replied with enough venom that would’ve gotten a hit up the side of his head from his dad. He had wanted to be cooperative but not with this chick from twisted PBS.
“Look- this was all a mistake— let me talk to the doctor or something before you make me take anything more-” He didn't want to be sedated into a drooling mess before he could explain himself.
The nurse was already lifting up the paper cup, three small pills inside. The man—big, quiet—took a step forward. His intimation was loud and clear to Xavier, take the pills or he’d force him. And he didn’t doubt all 200 pounds of him could.
Xavier’s heart kicked hard against his ribs. He was a kid, why were they threatening him with the big show of muscle? Did they think he was dangerous?
Was it because of Maddie? Had his dad told them something? Or had the news done that for them.
“You think I’m violent,” he said hoarsely as realization cooled over him, “You think I’m going to hurt someone if you don't give me those drugs. I’m not—I wouldn’t. I just want to talk to the doctor or whoever's in charge first.”
“No one’s accusing you of anything,” the orderly said, but there was no warmth in it. Xavier knew he used that line a lot which was chilling in itself.
“Xavier, this is what we call a supportive administration,” The nurse continued, “You will quickly see that routine and adhering to our schedules is very important here. We will always follow routine and the doctor’s orders. -So we can do this with you, or for you. But either way, it’s happening, honey.”
He looked at them, one face to the other, and saw the same thing in each face—calm, firm, settled. They weren’t asking him to comply. They were telling him. They were was no choice here.
“Xavier,” the nurse said more quietly, “take the medication.”
He still didn’t move. Really, he was still struggling to register the sheer absurdity of the situation he was in.
The orderly looked over his shoulder and made a nod to someone in the hall.
Before Xavier could understand what that meant, two more orderlies entered the room, just as blank and steady.
They had been waiting?
“No—no, wait—” Xavier’s voice cracked. He bolted sideways, tried to get around them, but the room was small, much too small for a move like that. One pair of arms caught his shoulders, another gripped his wrists. He thrashed instinctively, furious and horrified, but it only took a second before he was turned toward the wall, arms pinned.
His cheek pressed against the cold painted cinderblock. “Stop- don’t- I’m okay!”
“You’re agitated,” one of them said coolly. “We need to calm down now, okay?”
The nurse was beside him now, pressing the paper cup to his lips. “Take it now, or we’ll use the injection. Your choice.”
He tried to spit, twist away—but someone gripped his jaw. Hard.
“Take it.”
The pills hit his tongue. Immediately bitter and chalky. The water followed. They kept his mouth closed holding his face in their hands until he swallowed.
He sagged when they let him go.
His arms were shaking. His face burned with rage and humiliation, but there were no more words. No one looked angry. No one swore. They were so calm.
The nurse gave a soft, professional smile. “The first day or so is always tough- we get that. But this was the right choice, Xavier. Well done.”
He didn’t answer.
He just stood there, dazed, his back to the door as they filed out one by one. The latch clicked shut. Locked again.
They thanked him for swallowing after they had used three men to hold him down… Like he had agreed…
The thought settled in his chest like a lead weight.
What information had preceded him?
Surely the hospital notes on his delusions… and likely the Maddie story too? Becuase why else had there been two more muscled men in scrubs waiting right outside his door? Did everyone resist at first? Or only ones like him?
Tears welled in his eyes at these thoughts but he choked them back.
For a few years now, most assumed the worst of him… dangerous, difficult.. Why not here too?
He slid down the wall, trying not to shake, but the sedative from last night was slowing everything down, this was adding—blurring the edges of his thoughts, numbing the burn of shame and disbelief just enough to keep him still.
And it occurred to him, suddenly, dreadfully—
If enough people believe it’s true…
Does it even matter what is?
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