Mad Like Me

“You have to go!” my father yelled. “You can’t keep living like this! We can’t keep living like this!”
“Like it affects you as much as it affects me!” I screamed back. “You don’t know how good you’ve got it! Both of you!”

My father’s blue eyes widened. A tear ran down my mother’s cheek.
“This hasn’t been easy on us, you know,” she whispered, quiet as a church mouse. “Do you know how hard it is to hear your daughter, your baby, sobbing and screaming through the night? It hurts. It hurts like a dagger through my heart. This is the hardest decision we’ve ever made, but we had to make it.”

“Okay, I get it. You can’t deal with it. So you ship me away? Honestly, other people live just fine with schizophrenia. Why can’t I? Just give me a chance. We know what I have. We didn’t know that before. I’ll take some specialized meds, maybe go to therapy, I’ll be fine.”

“We’ve tried medicine and therapy,” sighed my father. “And they helped for a while, but you always fell back into it eventually.”

“But sending me off to some… some nuthouse isn’t the solution!”

A truck roared outside. I glanced out the window and saw “Rosewood Psychiatric” emblazoned on the side of a white van in bold black letters.

“They’re here,” said my father. “Now get your suitcase and go out there.”
“Please, Catalina,” my mother added, and my breath caught in my throat. She never used my full name. “We just want you to get better.”

“You know what?” I growled. “Fine. I’ll go. Because I’m obviously not wanted here.” I grabbed my suitcase and backpack and ambled out the door.

“We love you!” my mom called.
“Apparently not,” I muttered.

Two attendants were waiting outside the van. The women introduced herself as Dr. Ray and the man told me he was Dr. Falcon. Like I could care less. Without a word, I climbed into the van and watched my world disappear behind me.