Chapter 1 Welcome to Hell on Earth: Part 1
"If you asked me what I thought of my life right now, I would say it sucks. In a more colorful way. Not only is my whole family dead and I have the bullied treatment at school, I just got admitted to the hospital because of some stupid drunk driver. Life has thrown me for more than a few loops these past few weeks. I don't think anything could get much worse. Despite that, I don't feel much more depressed than usual, except for the occasional grief bouts." My voice was pretty emotionless as the words tumbled from my mouth.
I was always told I was cold, but I do feel emotion. I don't deal with it the same as others, but I'm not emotionless. I get stressed when there are too many people, but that's tolerable. I won't complain, at least I'm not dead. Not that I don't wish I was sometimes.
The psychiatrist looked at me sideways, as if trying to see my soul. I looked down not wanting him to see my eyes. Eyes are the window to the soul. He turned back to his clipboard, writing something down.
He asked a few more questions and then left my hospital room. The quiet that followed was soothing. I hate it when they send the psychiatrist in. He thinks he understands, and can help me. That's bullshit. The most psychology has done for me is cause more problems. I was so depressed in my first year of high school I turned to cutting. It didn't help and I abandoned it, but not before I was sent to juvie. The psychiatrists there think it was because of them. It wasn't; because it was my choice I chose not to. It was as simple as that. But with their inflated egos, I couldn't just say that, so I just let it go. I will never trust counselors or psychiatrists. The very fact that they try to examine my brain and thinking process sends shivers down my spine. It's an invasion of privacy, but they don't care.
I mostly lied about my condition for the latter half of the time I was at juvie. Not because I was gonna kill myself or any such nonsense, but because after I was done with my depression they tried to dredge up new problems for me. They said I had "traumatic childhood experiences" that brought about my depression. Traumatic my foot. I was just too spoiled to see what was in front of me the whole time. Their arrogance pissed me off, so I lied. I have been ever since. I like thinking through my problems and figuring a way out myself. I can't say it's the best way to deal with the crap life throws at you, but it has always worked out for me.
I shifted on my bed as much as possible despite my cast, trying to get comfortable. I gave up when it was getting me nowhere. I turned on the outdated TV placed in front of my hospital bed, hoping there would be something good on the crappy channels. I flipped through random channels till I landed on Spongebob. It was stupid, but entertaining as usual.
I woke up realizing I must have fallen asleep while watching. It was a commercial now, which was depressing, so I shut it off. I decided to sleep for real, but just as I drifted off I was startled by my phone ringing. I shook my head to clear it and looked at the caller ID. It was aunt Bethany. She had called a lot these past weeks, since she was now my guardian. She didn't live here, but in Vermont. She flew back when she heard the news and helped to set up the funeral, as well as deal with legal matters and take custody of me. I answered with a tired voice.
"Hey, aunt Bethany."
"Hey Bysshe honey, how're you feeling?" She answered back, worry clear in her voice.
"I'm fine, a little depressed, but that's to be expected." I shrugged, feeling sleepiness leaving me.
"That's good. Are you worried about anything, need anything? I can come with it to the hospital, just tell me." She had a caring tone in her voice, but honestly to me it felt foreign. As if she was trying to care too much. I understood she felt sympathy and grief too, but my knowledge of her was too thin. I'd only seen her a handful of times in my life. It brought the feeling of being alone to lie heavily on my chest, almost choking me.
I answered her with false security. "No I'm good, but if you could bring a book or something it would help, you know stave off boredom and stuff..." I felt my voice crack and stopped there, wanting to cough to stop a sob from being released form my throat.
After a bout of fake coughing I returned to phone to my ear. I could hear my aunt's worried voice on the other end. It made the lump in my throat bigger.
"Bysshe, are you okay?"
"Yeah, just swallowed wrong."
"So you just want a few books when I come to visit, nothing else?" She was getting a little annoying now.
"Yeah, that'd be great. I'm gonna let you go now, feeling kinda tired." I lied. I couldn't sleep anymore.
"Okay, you rest well honey. I come visit you tomorrow. Okay, see you soon." She hung up. As the line went dead I felt my heartbeat slow down. A heavy weight was on my chest and my eyes stung, aggravating the lump in my throat. I tried my best to ignore them, knowing if I let my emotions go I would cry all night. If aunt Bethany came tomorrow and saw me like this her worry would grow along with her visits. Currently I had them at a minimum because I didn't show my grief very much, letting her focus on my parents funeral. But if she saw my red panda eyes she'd come more often, effectively disallowing me any peace.
I tried turning on my side forgetting I was in a cast, again. I groaned in annoyance, wishing I had superhuman healing abilities so I could sleep in peace. Like that I spent my night trying to chase down that illusive state of being called sleep. My life is hell.
