Bone House
no need for introductions;
Margie had always been the opposite as me. She was loud and bubbly. She was ditzy and, in my opinion, a complete idiot.
We weren’t the best of friends.
She irritated me.
She was completely oblivious of this and continued to provoke me daily.
Everyone seemed to like her, saying she was the most ‘recovered’ out of all of us. That she was sweet and caring and was just big ray of fucking sunshine. I didn’t think so. At times I would just feel like taking her my the throat and-
No.
I wasn’t supposed to think about that kind of stuff anymore. Doctor Mills wouldn’t have it. I was supposed to be getting better. If he knew I was still thinking awful things, he would send me right back to the old ward. The horrible one. The one that made the recovery home look like a 5 star hotel. The one with the unkind doctors that did nothing but take your money and feed you pills. I hated it there. I needed to be getting better.
Margie had died that Tuesday. If I hadn’t been out of town for an appointment that day, I supposed people would have suspected I would have helped in her ordeal.
Everyone knew she infuriated me.
But that wouldn’t be considered getting better.
Which wouldn’t please Doctor Mills the slightest bit.
And I needed to get out of here.
We weren’t the best of friends.
She irritated me.
She was completely oblivious of this and continued to provoke me daily.
Everyone seemed to like her, saying she was the most ‘recovered’ out of all of us. That she was sweet and caring and was just big ray of fucking sunshine. I didn’t think so. At times I would just feel like taking her my the throat and-
No.
I wasn’t supposed to think about that kind of stuff anymore. Doctor Mills wouldn’t have it. I was supposed to be getting better. If he knew I was still thinking awful things, he would send me right back to the old ward. The horrible one. The one that made the recovery home look like a 5 star hotel. The one with the unkind doctors that did nothing but take your money and feed you pills. I hated it there. I needed to be getting better.
Margie had died that Tuesday. If I hadn’t been out of town for an appointment that day, I supposed people would have suspected I would have helped in her ordeal.
Everyone knew she infuriated me.
But that wouldn’t be considered getting better.
Which wouldn’t please Doctor Mills the slightest bit.
And I needed to get out of here.