CW: mentions of neglect, different medications, parental death, and abandonment. Clear depictions of injury, blood, stitches, manipulation, and familial emotional abuse. !!! If you are sensitive to any of these topics, please click off !!!
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Summary: A girl with a messed up past in the psych ward. Not much to it. On the surface at least. But Dr. Mary's always there to lend a hand, right?
Notes: Hiii first post :p, js letting y'all know that no, I have not been to a psych ward and I don't have any of the mental issues of the character that I've wrote. But I did my best on research of what I could find. I really do hope you enjoy my og short story. And please please please for the love of everything holy, don't take my work without crediting me. I worked really hard on this. If you have any questions, feel free to ask :)
Story is after the break! I hope you like it! Enjoy! :)
I kept walking through my hallway looking for an answer. I had no shoes on as I had left my room in a panic. I could feel the hard carpet underneath my feet. Its bluish-grayish color does nothing for my state of mind. People have said I can be a little… dramatic at times. But it's not me, it's my lack of medication. “I'm crazy,” I say to myself. “Crazy crazy crazy,” I claw at my shirt, desperately trying to figure out if I'm real or not. I look at the ground, and my feet are getting farther away from me. Farther and farther, like someone is stretching them out. I'm getting further away from myself-
I woke up. Thank the lord I was dreaming. 6:38 am. I look around my room. Blue and gray. Always has been, I think so at least. I'm not sure. I sit on the edge of my bed. My feet feel weird. Like tingly and cold but warm at the same time. Come on, Vi, it's not important. “I know it's not,” I retorted. Go take your meds. “But my feet feel weird, I don't want to walk to the bathroom”, I whined. I don't care. Go take them. “Ok”, I sighed dramatically. I got up slowly so as not to hurt my feet. That weird feeling stopped; that's good. Vivian. Walk. “OK, ok, jeez, I'm going”, I said back. I started walking to the bathroom when I realized I didn’t have socks on. Ew, I NEED my socks on. I hate the feeling of my carpet; it's hard and stringy. I changed course to walk to my small dresser. Where are you going? Go take your meds. “I'm going to, I just need socks," I explained. You’re going to forget. “No, I won't", I got to my dresser, grabbed a pair of socks, and put them on. “See, now I'm going to take my meds.” My feet feel much better now.
I got to the bathroom and opened the mirror to reveal my library of prescriptions. I look around for my pill box. Top shelf, middle shelf, bottom shelf… where’d it go? I can’t find it. I looked under the sink, on the shelf, but I don't know where it went. What are you doing? “I'm looking for my pill box, but I can’t find it,” I whine. Look harder. “No, I give up, I don’t want to.” I sigh. You shouldn’t. I open the mirror, “Which ones do I take again?” I say as I pick up different gray prescription bottles. Aripiprazole, sertraline, quetiapine, and alprazolam. “How much of each?” I asked. It says it on the bottle. “Thank you,” I muttered. I laid out the pills one by one on the counter. Wait, I need water. I start to leave the bathroom to get my water bottle. Why don’t you just drink the sink water? “The sink water’s gross, it tastes like metal.” I refused. I grab the water off my nightstand and walk back to the bathroom. I start grabbing the tablets one at a time. I grab the light blue oval one and examine it. It has a small “A” and some numbers on one side. I popped it in my mouth and took a sip of water. Could you take them any slower? “Why are you so mean?” I chided. I'm not mean, I tell you how it is, also you need to eat with half of those prescriptions. “It's too early to eat, though,” I whined back. At least drink some milk or something. “Fine”, I take a couple more pills and shove the rest in my pocket. I walk over to my mini-fridge and open it to look at what I have. Pickles, a half-gallon jug of milk, 2 juice boxes, and some leftover breadsticks from dinner they served the other night. “I need to go to the store soon,” I said listlessly. If they let you, you know how they are. “I know, I know,” you had to fight to get a room by yourself. You know, after mom couldn't take it anymore and left. “Please stop bringing up Catherine," I hissed. She doesn’t even visit you, isn’t that sad? “Stop, please,” I lamented. I grab the jug of milk as a tear rolls down my cheek. I get up to grab a mug out of the cabinet. I pour half a glass and drink it as I take the rest of my meds. I wipe off my cheek as I set the cup in the sink. I left the milk on top of the fridge. 7:03 am, it's almost time for groups. “I know,” I had already started walking over to my dresser so I could get ready. I slid open the top drawer and pulled out a dark blue long-sleeve shirt. I threw the article of clothing on my bed as I opened the second drawer to pull out some gray pants. I also threw them on my bed. Did you brush your teeth? “I'm going to when I get ready,” I retorted. I picked up the clothes and walked to the bathroom to get ready. Groups start at 7:20. I never fully enjoyed groups; it just feels awkward to share my problems with other people as they try to relate to me. Even though they don’t know. They don’t know what it's like to be institutionalized at 19 after your mom walked out on you in the middle of a break. And shatter every dish and vase and picture on the wall. They just don’t know, and that's what angers me. I like 1-on-1s more because it's personalized and it actually helps you. No one’s trying to compare their trauma to yours.
I had gotten my clothes on and brushed my teeth when I walked out of the bathroom to put on my shoes. I slipped on my light colored shoes, grabbed my water bottle, and left my room. I started walking down the hallway and saw others leaving their room to also go there. I saw Ms. Sherry walking Amelia to groups. Amelia has psychosis, BPD, and severe schizophrenia. But overall, she’s very nice. As long as she took her meds. If she doesn’t, she can get a bit…violent. She is young but pretty messed up. I feel bad for her. I turned the corner to see that Dr. Mary looked up from her clipboard at me.
“Hey, Vivi, how's your morning going?” smiled Dr. Mary. Her hair was in a bun this morning, and she had on different glasses today.
She's going to hurt you; don’t speak, and she won’t. Talk, and you're done. “No, she won't,” I said out loud.
“What was that?” she asked. She looked at me concerningly. I stood very still and just looked through her. “Did your meds kick in yet?” she tilted her head at me. I shook my head no. “Ok, let me walk you to groups then, alright?”, She asked.
“Ok,” I replied quietly. We kept walking through the hallway quietly when she asked me another question.
“So how's the room by yourself? No doctors or roommates, is it lonely?”, she remarked. She’ll use this to her advantage; don’t trust her. She’ll only leave you.
“It's fine, I’m managing fine by myself.”, I managed to muster out a complete sentence. Wooow, you got out 7 words, good job. “Could you stop being sarcastic? I'm trying my best.”, I exasperated heavily.
She turned to me. “Was that towards me?”, She looked at me, puzzled.
“No, it keeps talking and being very rude.”, I looked at her, upset.
“It's ok, it’ll go away soon, we're almost to the group's room, how about that?”, inquired the doctor. She opened the door in front of her. I'm in group C.
“I don't like groups, can I just do 1-on-1s today?”, I whined.
“Groups are only twice a week. You have 1-on-1s tomorrow with me, ok?”, she tried to compromise with me. She opened the group C door. “Here's your group. I’ll see you in an hour for breakfast, alright? You can sit with Dr. Tracy and me,” she beamed.
“Ok, I guess I'll see you at breakfast,” I responded sluggishly as I walked into the group room. 7:18, you’re on time. “I know,” I said with a sigh as I sat down in my chair. “This is going to be a long hour.”
✥✥✥
8:27 am. Finally, I'm out of that stupid room. It's so stuffy and small, like how do they expect to fit 7 people in there, plus a doctor, without it being hot? I see Dr. Mary standing in the big hallway talking with Nurse Haley. I walk over to her.
“Is breakfast soon?”, I asked. She smiled at me and nodded to Dr. Mary. Nurse Haley went back behind the prescription counter.
“Yeah, I just need to find Dr. Tracy, then we can go. I think he’s busy with a patient right now, so he’ll be there for a while. But in the meantime, you can head back to your room, and I'll send a nurse to call you down when he’s done, alright?”, she sighed. It's a ploy. I keep standing there.
They’re tricking you.
They’re going to keep you there.
They don’t like you.
“Vivi? Are you ok?”, asked Dr. Mary with a perplexed look.
Don’t talk.
Don’t move.
Just don’t do anything.
“Did you take your meds this morning?” She set down her chart to check my pulse. I nodded yes because, well, I did. She turned to nurse Haley and whispered something. The nurse handed her a prescription bottle and held it up to me. “Show me with your fingers how many of these you took this morning, ok?”, I looked at it, and in big bold letters it read Aripiprazole. I held up 1 finger, as that's what it said to take on my bottle. “From your pill box?” I shook my head no. “You couldn’t find your pill box this morning, could you?” I agreed with her. “That's because we updated your prescription last night from 1 a day to 2 a day. Apparently, we forgot to return your pill box last night, too.” She handed me another light blue pill. “Here, take this with your water. I'll have Haley walk you to your room to lie down.” I look at nurse Haley, and she's holding my arm, keeping my balance. I take the pill and start walking with her back to my room.
Why didn’t you listen to me? “I don't like listening to you, that's why.” I had gotten back to my room by this point and was lying on my floor staring at the ceiling. 8:56 am. “Should I eat something?” I remarked. I’m quite hungry, and it's been 2 hours since I woke up. Yeah, you should because you kind of need food to live. “They won’t let me go out yet, though.” Then why did you even ask me? “I-I… don't actually know," I said, sparsely. Breakfast ends at 9:30; you'd better get there soon. “I know,” I kind of just want to lie down for a bit. I watch the minutes on the clock go by. Tick, tick, tick. I hear a knock on the door. “Come in,” I say as a new nurse walks in.
“Hi Vivian, so your schedule has been moved to the morning because you have a visitor at 10 am.” She says this like I know anybody who would visit me. I stare at her strangely.
“Visitor?” I tilt my head, “Who is it?” I haven't had a visitor ever. Mom's gone, Dad's dead, no siblings, and certainly no other family.
“Her name’s Anne-Marie Atkins, she claims she's related to you, she's 28 years old, and that's all the info I have so far,” she tells me.
“Alright”, I dragged out the word. Who is this? Why is she here, and most importantly, why me? It's a ploy, it's a trap, listen to me. The nurse left, and I stood up. Everything's spinning. I'm dizzy. I sit down on my bed. Out of all the times I tell you not to trust people, just listen for once. They’re going to leave like always. You know they will. “Shut up!” I fumed. I started pacing back and forth. “What should I do? What do I do!?” I lashed out at myself. Don’t go out. Lock the door. Don’t let them in. “I can't do that, and you know that!” I cursed violently. Then why do you ask for my advice when you never take it? I drop to my knees and sob. Who is she? Why me?
✥✥✥
I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep until I heard a knock at my door. Dr. Mary opened the door and peered her head into the room. “Hello?” She looked at me.
I looked at her with red eyes, “Yes?” I'm too tired for anything right now.
“Are you ready? Your visitor is here,” she affirmed. I look at the clock. 10:02 am. No. No. No. No. Not now.
“Uh yeah, I'm...Ready,” I get up slowly and wipe off my face. I put on my shoes and follow Dr. Mary out of my room and into the hallway. I'm terrified. In my 8 months of being here, not even my mom has visited me, and definitely not a rando that says they’re related to me. We keep walking down the hallway in complete silence. My hands are down at my sides, and I'm fidgeting with my sleeve. The doctor writes down some things on her clipboard that I can't read, then opens the light gray door to the private patient lobby. I see a couple of nurses walking around, a patient at the front desk, and most importantly, a mid-age lady in a dark blue sweater, glasses, and dark hair. Like my dark hair. Except her hair isn't choppy like mine. It's neat and down in front of her shoulders. She sits in a chair with some other chairs across from her, and she's bouncing her leg impatiently. Dr. Mary ushers me forward in that direction. Right toward that woman. That woman who's “related to me”. I sit in the chair across from her and set my hands on my legs to keep them from shaking. The doctor goes some distance away but is still at a distance where she can hear every word. The lady across from me puts her hands together and looks at me.
“Hi, do you know who I am?” She asks this like I have an answer. Like I've known her my whole life.
“I have no idea who you are," I say very matter-of-factly. She lets out a breath, and after some silence, she speaks again.
“Let me tell you a story about your father.”
✥✥✥
9 months prior, Monday, February 10th, 8:56 PM.
“I can’t deal with this house anymore! Do you know how hard it is to be YOUR mother?! And you do nothing! Nothing to help around this house! Sometimes you make me feel like I should have never met your father, do you know that!? Do you!?” She keeps screaming at me. Telling me I should never have been born. I'm fuming. Hurt her. She doesn’t deserve you.
“Shut up! Shut up! You have no idea what it's like being me! Having to question every word said to you because you don’t know whether it was real or not!” I shouted at her. If she can’t deal with me, I won't deal with her. She doesn’t know me. Even though I'm her child, she doesn’t know me.
“You know what! I'm done! Since apparently I have NO idea what it's like being you, how about you just live with yourself!? Let's see how long it takes, huh!?” Then she just walks out like it does nothing. Absolutely nothing. I'm going to prove her wrong. I grab the nearest picture of her and me on the coffee table and smash it on the ground. I stomp on it. Bare feet. I don’t care about the pain. Glass shards lodge farther into my feet as I grab another picture and ruin it. Another and another. I open the cabinets and break every plate, bowl, and cup into pieces. A shard of glass from a cup slides open my left calf. Dark blue spills on the linoleum. Don’t pay attention to it, it'll only slow you down. I stormed into my bathroom with a pair of kitchen scissors and terribly cut my hair. I watched it fall into the sink and onto the floor. I throw the scissors onto the floor and walk back into the living room. There's a vase of fake flowers she got me for graduation. You never deserved those flowers, like she never deserved you. I pick up the carnations and ram them into the wall. It shatters into bits, and splints of it go into my hands. You showed her, go on, you’re done here. I stumbly walk out of the house with some slippers on. Shards go farther into my foot with every step I take onto the sidewalk. Pain shoots through my legs as I start to run further and further. Don’t let her find you again; she’ll only leave you. I run until the end of the street. I see a park with some benches. She never took you to the park; she'll never find you here. I lay down on one of the benches. My shorts expose my legs to the cold metal of the bench. I slowly drift to sleep, knowing she doesn’t care anymore.
Tuesday, February 11th, 7:14 AM. The next morning.
I'm woken up by the sound of panicked paramedics surrounding me and checking my pulse. “Ma’am, can you hear me?” A male paramedic is shaking my shoulder lightly. I nod my head yes. “We need to transport you to Georgia Medical, ok?” Before I can fully nod my head again, I've lost consciousness.
The next time I wake up, I'm in the ambulance with an IV in my arm while the paramedics clean up my surface wounds. I continue to drift in and out of consciousness until I finally wake up on a hospital bed with a nurse next to me. “Hey, how are you feeling?” She sets down her clipboard.
“Terrible, my head hurts, and my leg stings,” I tried to sit up, but the nurse laid me back down. The doctor walked in and looked at me.
“The paramedics said they found you on a bench with several cuts and bruises. You also lost 2 pints of blood that we are now IV-ing into you. All your injuries look accidental, but I still have to ask you some routine questions.” I nod my head. “Name?”
“Vivian Lynn Atkins”
“Age?”
“19”
“What month is it?”
“February,” I fiddle with the end of the hospital blanket and look around. There's a small TV playing a drama show at a low volume.
“It says in your past medical records that you have schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and social anxiety. Am I correct?” The doctor tilts her head.
“You are,” I hear the beeps of different monitors next to me. She writes some things down before turning back to me.
“Alright, I'm going to go get you a prescription, my name’s Dr. Mary, and I’ll be your doctor for the time being.” She walks out of the room, and the nurse slowly props me up on some pillows.
“Here, this should be more comfortable for you,” She slides over a tray to the side of my bed that has some water and my belongings on it. I grab my phone and check the time. 5:36 PM. The doctor walks back in, and I set my phone back onto the tray.
She sets down a couple of gray bottles on the tray. “Okay,” She writes some more things down. “Do you have any living or present family to take care of you? She looks up at me through her glasses.
“Um, well, my dad’s dead, and my mom walked out on me last night. I have no idea where she is. I don’t have any siblings, aunts, or uncles I know about either.” I lift the blanket to see the damage from last night. “Oh god. What happened to me last night?” You showed her, remember? My feet have white bandages wrapped around them, and there’s a huge scar on the side of my left calf. It has stitches all along it, keeping the wound closed. I only now noticed the bandages covering the palms of my hands. I look at my arms and see some light stitches and more bandages.
“We’re not completely sure yet. We’ve sent out a team to look at your house. Do you remember anything from last night other than your mom walking out?” She reaches over to grab the corner of the blanket and covers my legs with it.
I look at her strangely, trying to remember the details of last night. “I-I don’t know. All I remember was being really mad, then waking up on the park bench.” I pick up a small plastic bag that's on the tray. It has my earbuds and the necklace I had on at the time.
“Well, we’ll find out more as the week progresses, alright? But in the meantime, we’re going to start filing the paperwork to transfer you to the building next door.” She picks up her clipboard and starts heading over to the door.
I look at her with worried eyes. “The mental institute? I-I’m not that crazy, am I?” You are. Just accept it.
“No, you’re not clinically ‘crazy,’ but since you have no home legally, we have to house you somewhere, and you’re eligible according to the government to be institutionalized.” I tense up. “But you’ll be marked as a low-risk patient, considering this is the only psychotic break of yours that has resulted in injury.” They’ll keep you there forever. Don’t trust her.
“Ok,” I sighed. God, my head is killing me. Just before she walks out, I get her attention once more. “Um, could I get some ibuprofen? My head hurts.”
“Of course, I'll have a nurse send it in,” She says as she walks out, and I sigh tiredly. You’ll be here for a while. Don’t let them fool you.
✥✥✥
Present day, Sunday, November 18th, 10:16 AM
“They never wanted you to know about me. So they got rid of me. But I knew about you. Dad was gone a lot before he died, huh? That's because he was telling me about you. And where to find you. I'm your sister.” Her last sentence felt like a bullet straight to the chest. Sister. Full blood. But without all the add-ons I got while being raised in that family. She can’t be my sister. I hear pen dragging on paper as Dr. Mary writes things down. I'm shaking. Everything's blurry and I can't think straight.
“You’re not my sister. Y-you can’t be MY sister. You’re sane, and I'm not. Schizophrenia is genetic-” I get up staggardly, and I trip over my words. I start to walk away when my eyes are covered, and I smell something strong of rubbing alcohol. I then lose consciousness.
I woke up in my bed. I look at the clock. 11:42 AM. Something happened. I look around my room, and I see Dr. Mary is sitting at my desk.
“Oh, you’re awake,” She checks my pulse. “You poor thing, you fainted,” She sounds worried. She's not actually worried about you. It's a trick. “Your sister was so worried about you!” Then I heard that sickening word again.
I cut her off. “She’s not my sister.” I stare at her strangely with fear that I'm scared she can sense it on me.
“Let's not be silly, Vivi, we both know she’s your sister," She chuckles lightly. She thinks this is a joke, doesn’t she?
“She’s. Not. My. Sister.” I start to back away towards the wall by my bed. She gets closer.
“Yes, she is Vivia-” I scream at the top of my lungs before she can finish her sentence. She calls on her walkie. “Room 832, I need a full set of body restraints. I have a patient exhibiting stage 1 psychosis.” I curl myself into a ball and start to bawl. She’s not your sister. Nurses start to pile into my room as they force me onto a stretcher. I plead and scream at them to let me go. They wheel me out of my room as I hear a nurse yell.
“I need 10cc’s benzodiazepine now!” Some seconds after that, I feel a sharp prick in my arm and fall asleep.
I woke up a couple hours later tied to a different bed. This is why I tell you not to trust them. Look where it got you. Dr.Mary came up to me and wrote down my vitals. She’s the reason you’re in this mess. “Why am I here?” I pleaded with her.
“Because you can’t accept that your sister is your sister. You’re exhibiting stage 1 psychosis which means you’re clinically insane.” She looks up from her clipboard. “I just don’t understand how you think she isn’t your sister.” She sighs at me like it's my problem.
“Thats because she ISN’T my sister.” I didn't even look at her. I can’t stand to look at her right now. She takes off her glasses and rubs the bridge of her nose.
“We’ve also noticed that you have a stutter. So to prevent it from worsening, don't speak unless you know that you’re going to get it right.” She says as she adjusts the monitors next to me. “Ok?” She turns her head to me. I nod my head yes. I have a stutter. Have I had a stutter this whole time? People must think I'm super weird or faking it if it's that bad. You don’t have a stutter, it's just a ploy. I hear footsteps from outside the door. I look through the glass wall and it's that girl again. In the same blue sweater. She comes up to my bed.
“Oh goodness you’re awake! I'm so glad!” She gives me a hug. She backs off a couple seconds later and looks at me weirdly. “It's me, you’re sister? Annie?”
“I never had a sister named Annie.” Or did you? “Stop making me question myself!” I whisper angrily.
“I’ve always been your sister silly!” She sits on the edge of my bed. “Remember we had that huge tree in the front yard and we would try to see who could climb the highest? Or we would pretend to be squirrels?” She grinned at me. Tree? In the front yard? Well I did for a little bit. Until it got cut down. I remember climbing it. “Oh! And the one birthday party I had and you kept stealing my presents!” She laughed. “Oh those were good times.” I tilt my head at her last statement. Did I do all this stuff? I laughed lightly to myself.
“Um, I'm not sure if I remember that fully.” I smile a little bit. I'm scared to say I don't know her again. What if they put me in isolation? Stop doubting yourself. I hear the scratching of pen on the clipboard again as the doctor writes. “Yeah, um definitely, we uh did that stuff…” I hesitated as I spoke. Her eyes widened.
“Oh my goodness! You remembered!” She gave me another hug as I stared at the ceiling in confusion. I think I know her. But you don’t, listen to me. I played with someone as a child, I think? She looks at her watch. “Oh well I have an appointment soon, i’ll visit you later Vivi!” I looked at her strangely when she said that nickname.
“Only Dr.Mary calls me that” I tilt my head at her.
“No silly! Everyone calls you Vivi!” She slides open the door and looks back at me. “I’ll see you later!” She closes the door and I look at Dr. Mary.
“Does everyone actually call me Vivi?” I look at her oddly. She reciprocates the look back to me.
“Yeah? Everyone has for the past 8 months you’ve been here, don’t you remember that?” She remarks as she starts to also walk out of the room.
“Uh I guess so.”
“Stop stuttering” She says as she closes the door. I find myself staring at the ceiling again. I'm not too sure how I have a sister but I guess I do. I probably just don’t remember since I was young. But how does she remember me after all these years? I get a hold of myself. She probably just has better memory than I do, I say to myself. I look to my left and I see a tray that's just out of reach with some water on it. I look to my right and I see the medical curtain and the glass wall again. It's probably glass because they want to watch you. You’ve been here too long and you’ve let them fool you. Get used to the grave you dug for yourself.
“The grave? I think you're exaggerating.”, I murmured, slightly in disbelief at my current situation.
No, you’ve dug too deep and now it's too late.
“Too late for what?” I tilted my head.
Too late to save yourself from what they might do to you. Remember what mom said? The doctors always lied.
“Maybe she was the one lying all along”, I muttered looking at the ceiling.
Your mom lied about a lot of things but I don’t think she was lying about this.
“How do I know if you’re lying or not?”, I sneered.
You trust me. You always do.
“Maybe that was a mistake”, I muttered to myself, slightly angry.
The only mistake you made was trusting people I told you aren’t trustworthy and look where it landed you.
“It landed me in restraints”
Next time, listen to me so you don’t end up here.
“And what if I don't want to?”, I said angrily.
Vivian, don’t argue with me.
“Shut up”, I snapped back.
you’re worthless.
I go utterly silent at that. I look to my right to look out the glass wall, watching the nurses talk outside. Their conversations mean nothing to me, I can't hear them. I can barely hear anything with the ringing in my ears. The almost silent beep of monitors next to the constant tolling in my ears. It's almost unbearable. Maybe this is just a dream, if I go to sleep and wake back up it’ll be over and she’s not my sister after all. This is just my imagination. I sigh as I start to drift asleep again.
When I start to wake up, I still hear ringing. But it's not in my ears, it's coming from outside. I'm awoken by the sounds of loud police chatter and sirens from outside. What happened? I look out the glass wall again to see Dr. Mary being chased by 2 police officers and 2 others coming into my room. One of them comes up to me and starts taking off my restraints. “Theres not much time to explain but you’ve been caught in the middle of a mass conspiracy experiment being led by your doctor. We’re transferring you to a different hospital. Please remain calm.” They have half of my restraints off.
“What about all my stuff? What's going on?”
“We’ll ship that to the new hospital but for now, we need to focus on getting you out of here” They get the last of my hand restraints off and help me stand up. As I walk through the halls of this place I thought was telling me the truth, the only thing I feel is hate. I'm led out the double doors of the institute, as I look around I see other patients crying and being led to other places. Next thing I know I'm being filed into a small cramped bus from southern regional med to northside Atlanta. As I walk to my seat I see people clutching the ends of their sleeves with their knees to their chests. Another patient is seated by me as I look out the window to look at the scene. At least 7 cop cars are parked on the fire line of the institute. I see several people being cuffed and asked questions; including Dr.Mary. What did I tell you?
“Yeah, well you didn’t tell me that she was a criminal”, I mutter to myself as I rub the back of my neck.
I shouldn’t have to tell you. You should just trust me.
“You know it's hard for me to trust people”, I murmured looking at the floor of the bus.
I'm not a person, I'm you.
I look over at the person sitting next to me and he’s looking at me strangely. My gaze shifts back to the window next to me. I feel the bus start to move forward and I see the hospital getting smaller and smaller. Here it is, the start of something new. And for once in a long time I feel some hope for my future.
HEAVY CW ON THE LORE: SH, suic!de attempt, religious themes and trauma, cults, vivid reenactments of violence and mut!lation, p!lls, OD attempt, language
PLEASE DON'T READ THE LORE IF YOU'RE SENSITIVE TO THOSE TOPICS
Voice claim: Jedidiah Martin from camp here and there
Here's the lore: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86216626/chapters/228021391
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He's the most traumatized out of all of my oc's so far. Cult survivor, brainwashed, religious trauma, all that fun stuff.
IT DOES NOT MATTER WHAT KIND OF WRITER YOU ARE YOU CAN BE WRITING: POEMS, FANFICS, IDK NORMAL FICS, NOVELS, SHORT STORIES, IDK ANYTHING!! JUST REBLOG!!!
No gender, just suit. They/it but honestly they could not care less what pronouns you call them. I'll update with a voice claim later, I need to look first
update: voice claim is Satan from the adventures of mark twain
Okay, I would probably want to be either a weevil or a stag beetle considering that those are my favorite types of bug. But I also would not mind being a spicebush swallowtail caterpiller, they are really silly looking and I love them. But I think I would most likely want to be a weevil because of how silly they are and how much I love them :)
No gender, just suit. They/it but honestly they could not care less what pronouns you call them. I'll update with a voice claim later, I need to look first
update: voice claim is Satan from the adventures of mark twain
It wasn't a mindfuck movie like I expected but I really really enjoyed the concept that the realm remembered so much that it produced so little. I liked the concept and the symbolism of the rooms and Clark was definitely more of a in depth character than I thought. I loved the entities. And I loved that it showed some of the other levels like level 9 and the poolrooms
It could have definitely had more jumpscares for a horror movie and I think they should have gone more in depth with Clarks mental issues and his past. I also got confused during the end of the poolrooms scene of Clark and Cat where she's in the wall and something is behind Clark, what happened to Clark? I still have no idea if anyone wants to explain that pls tell me.
Otherwise, I would definitely watch this movie again and I think it had very interesting concepts about the backrooms :)
