Chapter 1: Psyche Ward, Day #50

“Hey, get down from there!”

7… 8… I pumped out my 9th rep of pullups and dropped from the doorframe of my blackened room. My blue socks felt sticky on the tiled floor as I flared out my pumped lats.

“Thank you,” the pretty nurse said and continued down the hall.

I smiled, “No problem.” I was the guy that all the nurses said ‘had been here too long’.

I did a set of push-ups to failure then looked around the familiar environment. Bright white lights illuminated the ceilings, running down the hallway that curved around a room in the center. The center room was a solid white lower-half and a glass upper-half up to the ceiling. This is where all the nurses worked and kept tabs on us. Across from their office were brown wooden doors leading into our rooms, all propped open, never to be shut and lacked the capability to be locked from the inside.

Everything was white except our doors. So white, shiny, clean… It was like a little purgatory for us, graciously provided by our caretakers.

At one end of the hallway were two double doors that opened only by a keycard. A few feet in front of them was a solid red line across the ground. Red text read: DO NOT CROSS.

At the other end of the hall was a lonely telephone glued to the wall. It was next to the opening to the ‘Family Room’. One small TV, like what people from the old-world used to huddle around with their atomic families. That’s where most of us spent our time—not for the television set—but for the view of the outside world. The only window we were allowed access to. Many of us would sit in silence, staring out toward the world, reminding us of the freedom we once had.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the inside of my shirt while looking at the nurses pretty legs. I hope she’d turn around and see my abs. I don’t know why I tortured myself. I’ll wait, what, 5 minutes? Then continue my pull ups. Her scolding me was the highlight of my day.

My pants were held together by a zip-tie looping around two belt-loops; belts were not allowed for obvious reasons. My chucks suffered the same fate; zip ties replaced my shoelaces. This was nothing unusual at this point.

My first week here was spent dead asleep, only being stirred awake to be force-fed pills and to get a needle shoved into my arm. I am a bit embarrassed to say that I never resisted much; I was just so drowsy all the time…

Ok, my first few days when I was admitted? Yes, I was a problem, mainly because I didn’t like being naked and held down by two men while another hosed me down. ‘Bend over and cough. Harder!’ Come on, man… The initial interviews sucked too…

“Good night, kitty Katz,” a girl said in a sing-song tune.

The nickname brought up painful memories. I turned toward the voice. It was Rachel, a patient that lived at the end of the hallway by the Family Room. I lived at the other end, closest to the DO NOT CROSS line. Rachel’s short red hair was always frazzled like a bird’s nest.

Rachel’s most notable feature was the tattoo of a blue hummingbird across the left side of her face. Whenever I tried to describe it to others, their face twisted as they pictured something ugly. I always thought it was beautiful, but could never convey it through word descriptions. The other notable feature was the fact that she didn’t shave her armpits; two red creatures jumping out to play any time she rolled up her hospital sleeves. It made me cringe, but I tried to be nice.

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“Good night, Rachel,” I said. She smirked like she wanted me to make a move, but I let her walk away. Even if I wanted to, this was not the best time to sneak into her room. We would have to wait for the shift change… Her hips barely swayed due to her skinny frame with zero meat on her bones. It was always a funny sight to see her surrounded by security when she got in trouble and wasn’t allowed to wander the halls alone.

Rachel on the outside, minus her visual quirks, appeared to be just as normal as me. Those pretty green eyes, one wrapped around that majestic hummingbird, was the first layer of the onion… Peel the next and you’ll find the hairy armpits. Peel another…

Rachel had a consistent nightly routine. In the outside world, after falling asleep she’d get out of bed and walk into the streets. Barefoot, wearing nothing, screaming bloody murder with a knife in hand. Sometimes she would cut her wrists, her breasts, her thighs, her stomach—throughout all this, she never woke up. She progressed to trying to cut other people before she was sent here to be my neighbor. I got used to hearing her scream and the shuffling of footsteps into her room. I felt bad for her roommates.

I felt a pang of pity as I watched her leave. Such a pretty girl, but there was something wrong with her brain. Just like all of us here, I suppose. I figured it was time for me to clock out too. I lurked back into my dark room, the light from the hallway that never turned off providing me a dim view…

Three small bed frames on three walls. Both of my roommates were asleep, or at least pretending to be. I didn’t know either of their names. The one on the furthest wall from the door was a corny looking white boy, tall and lanky with straight blonde hair covering his eyes. This guy was the nastiest person I’ve ever met. One morning, he pissed himself in bed. He stayed laying in it, the stench soaking the room and drifting out into the hallway. It felt like hours before the nurses came and dragged him away and replaced his bedding. This happened at least once a week.

One morning, he started jerking off while all three of us were in the room. He acted like it was no big deal as he made disturbing facial expressions. The nurses had to deal with this too. Me and my other roommate never said anything… In this type of place you didn’t know if you’d get stabbed by a pen in your sleep. Everyone here was crazy enough to be admitted, so it was best to mind your own business.

It was very annoying when he pissed all over the toilet seat and floor, leaving yellow puddles that snuck out from underneath the door frame. I got very good at watching where I stepped and using only my tippy-toes. I would never touch the toilet seat. I would use my shoe. It felt like every damn day I was complaining to the nurses about my living conditions, but there was only so much they could do. Suck it up, Katz. Fuck, I guess.

My other roommate was a short brown guy, pretty young, maybe 18-25. I never heard him speak and never found out why he was admitted. All I knew was that we shared a common struggle—we were stuck in purgatory and could not escape. We successfully stayed out of each other's way and kept our corners of the room clean. An unspoken agreement to leave each other alone. A mutual disgust toward the white boy.

I took a nighttime leak; the bathroom was clean for now. I looked at my reflection in the card-sized mirror that distorted my face. Normally I liked to stay clean-shaven, but had a fair stubble coming along. What a shame for those that grow facial hair fast! We weren’t allowed to shave without first applying for a time-slot where you were escorted to a separate room to be watched. Of course they wouldn’t let us have access to tiny razor blades. Too high of a risk that you’d accidentally cut your wrists in a vertical fashion. It all was too much of a hassle so I opted out of shaving.

I exited the bathroom and the wooden door flapped behind me. I took off my shoes and set them dress-right-dress underneath my bed frame. Next to my bed was an ugly gray dresser with a single drawer filled with my writings, drawings and books that I procured from the Family Room. On top of the gray dresser was my pink plastic bucket containing my latrine items. Tiny toothbrushes, a nasty-smelling roll-on deodorant, tiny tubes of toothpaste, shampoo, one single towel and one rag. Oh, and shower-shoes; a non-negotiable living with the white boy.

I wrote in my journal every day and night. My drawings included but were not limited to: ninjas, dinosaurs, stick figures and geometric shapes. I made myself a calendar for each month that helped me keep track of how many days had gone by. Despite the rules against decorations, the nurses let me tape it to the wall. I made a mark on the calendar, crossing off Day 50.