Status: Active
Nightmare
Stage 1
“Do you know why you’re here?”
“Yeah.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because I drank a little too much vodka.”
“And?”
“That’s it.”
“Are you positive?”
“Yeah.”
“What about the painkillers?”
“My back hurt.”
“And you thought taking ten times the recommended dosage of a variety of painkillers would solve the problem?”
“Yep.”
“What about the alcohol?”
“I was thirsty.”
“Did you ever stop to think about how it might react with the painkillers you had just taken?”
“Nope.”
“Hm.”
“I’m not fucking suicidal if that’s what you think. It was a mistake. I didn’t realize the dosage of what I was taking. And by the time I started drinking, I had forgotten I had even taken them. I wasn’t trying to fucking kill myself. My back hurt.”
“Alright Sofia. We’re done for the day.”
A frustrated sigh escaped the petite girl’s lips as she rose from the couch and stormed from the room, angrily slamming the thin wood door, covered in chipped white paint, behind her.
Once again, she found herself in the crowded hallway. People strolled about in the uniform white jumpsuit, walking at a snail’s pace. She looked down in disgust at her own white jumpsuit, identical to everyone else’s. She didn’t understand the fascination with white in this place. Everything was white; the walls, the bed sheets, the blankets, the uniforms, the furniture, even the trays used for meals.
All her life she had always associated white with cleanliness and purity. That was the exact opposite of what her surroundings were. Despite the white paint coating the walls, they appeared darker, almost dingy. This stale, old effect was apparent on everything that was white, except for the uniforms of the orderlies. They always appeared fresh and pristine, in their bleached white jumpsuits, washed fresh daily.
She pulled a pack of Marlboro Lights out of her pocket and tapped out a cigarette. She was slightly taken aback as a lighter was placed in front of her mouth. Regardless, she lit the cigarette before taking a long drag, exhaling the smoke slowly. Her eyes flicked toward the hand holding the lighter. Her gaze traveled along a thick arm, covered in tattoos, up to a bulging bicep and further along to a pair of sparkling hazel eyes.
It wasn’t the shape or the color that took her by surprise; it was the emotion. Everything she had experienced so far in this place had been dull and uneventful, devoid of all feeling.
“You shouldn’t smoke. It’s bad for you,” the man stated, lighting up an identical cigarette of his own.
“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” An amused smirk twisted onto her lips as she took another drag, holding the smoke in for several moments before blowing out softly.
“You’re new here, aren’t you?”
Was it really that obvious? As long as she had been here, she had struggled to stay under the radar. She ate her meals alone and rarely interacted with the other patients. Her free time was spent in her room, poring over books that took her any where other than her uncomfortable twin bed, covered in the standard issue hospital blanket that provided absolutely no warmth. “Yeah, I am. How’d you know?”
“Well, for one thing, you still appear to have your sanity,” he nodded towards a man standing several feet away from them. The man stood, his eyes focused on a single spot as he rocked back and forth. As far as Sofia could tell, this was his routine. Each day he placed himself in this same spot and began to rock, back and forth, until he was interrupted by a mandatory activity or mealtimes.
“Thanks,” she snorted, her teeth sinking down into her lower lip. “That makes me feel so much better.”
“And for another,” he continued smoothly, turning so that the side of his body was resting upon the wall. “You’re still flawless as ever. After a while in this place, everyone starts to lose their luster.”
“Let me guess, you use that line on every new girl that comes in here?”
“No, just the pretty ones.” His full lips turned into an attractive smirk, the gleam in his bright hazel eyes more apparent than ever. It was obvious he was pleased with himself.
“Well, I hate to break it to you,” Sofia turned and stubbed out her cigarette in one of the many ashtrays placed around the room, “but not all of the pretty ones fall for that witty banter.” She pushed her body off of the wall and headed towards her room, smiling as she felt his eyes still on her.
“Wait,” he called out. “What’s your name?”
“Sofia,” she replied, halting in her tracks but refusing to turn. He had given her no reason to. “What’s yours?”
“Matt.”
And that was how it began.
“Yeah.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because I drank a little too much vodka.”
“And?”
“That’s it.”
“Are you positive?”
“Yeah.”
“What about the painkillers?”
“My back hurt.”
“And you thought taking ten times the recommended dosage of a variety of painkillers would solve the problem?”
“Yep.”
“What about the alcohol?”
“I was thirsty.”
“Did you ever stop to think about how it might react with the painkillers you had just taken?”
“Nope.”
“Hm.”
“I’m not fucking suicidal if that’s what you think. It was a mistake. I didn’t realize the dosage of what I was taking. And by the time I started drinking, I had forgotten I had even taken them. I wasn’t trying to fucking kill myself. My back hurt.”
“Alright Sofia. We’re done for the day.”
A frustrated sigh escaped the petite girl’s lips as she rose from the couch and stormed from the room, angrily slamming the thin wood door, covered in chipped white paint, behind her.
Once again, she found herself in the crowded hallway. People strolled about in the uniform white jumpsuit, walking at a snail’s pace. She looked down in disgust at her own white jumpsuit, identical to everyone else’s. She didn’t understand the fascination with white in this place. Everything was white; the walls, the bed sheets, the blankets, the uniforms, the furniture, even the trays used for meals.
All her life she had always associated white with cleanliness and purity. That was the exact opposite of what her surroundings were. Despite the white paint coating the walls, they appeared darker, almost dingy. This stale, old effect was apparent on everything that was white, except for the uniforms of the orderlies. They always appeared fresh and pristine, in their bleached white jumpsuits, washed fresh daily.
She pulled a pack of Marlboro Lights out of her pocket and tapped out a cigarette. She was slightly taken aback as a lighter was placed in front of her mouth. Regardless, she lit the cigarette before taking a long drag, exhaling the smoke slowly. Her eyes flicked toward the hand holding the lighter. Her gaze traveled along a thick arm, covered in tattoos, up to a bulging bicep and further along to a pair of sparkling hazel eyes.
It wasn’t the shape or the color that took her by surprise; it was the emotion. Everything she had experienced so far in this place had been dull and uneventful, devoid of all feeling.
“You shouldn’t smoke. It’s bad for you,” the man stated, lighting up an identical cigarette of his own.
“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” An amused smirk twisted onto her lips as she took another drag, holding the smoke in for several moments before blowing out softly.
“You’re new here, aren’t you?”
Was it really that obvious? As long as she had been here, she had struggled to stay under the radar. She ate her meals alone and rarely interacted with the other patients. Her free time was spent in her room, poring over books that took her any where other than her uncomfortable twin bed, covered in the standard issue hospital blanket that provided absolutely no warmth. “Yeah, I am. How’d you know?”
“Well, for one thing, you still appear to have your sanity,” he nodded towards a man standing several feet away from them. The man stood, his eyes focused on a single spot as he rocked back and forth. As far as Sofia could tell, this was his routine. Each day he placed himself in this same spot and began to rock, back and forth, until he was interrupted by a mandatory activity or mealtimes.
“Thanks,” she snorted, her teeth sinking down into her lower lip. “That makes me feel so much better.”
“And for another,” he continued smoothly, turning so that the side of his body was resting upon the wall. “You’re still flawless as ever. After a while in this place, everyone starts to lose their luster.”
“Let me guess, you use that line on every new girl that comes in here?”
“No, just the pretty ones.” His full lips turned into an attractive smirk, the gleam in his bright hazel eyes more apparent than ever. It was obvious he was pleased with himself.
“Well, I hate to break it to you,” Sofia turned and stubbed out her cigarette in one of the many ashtrays placed around the room, “but not all of the pretty ones fall for that witty banter.” She pushed her body off of the wall and headed towards her room, smiling as she felt his eyes still on her.
“Wait,” he called out. “What’s your name?”
“Sofia,” she replied, halting in her tracks but refusing to turn. He had given her no reason to. “What’s yours?”
“Matt.”
And that was how it began.