Autumn's Monologue.

Gerard enveloped me into a hug, soon followed by Ray and then my father tentatively put an arm around me—all of them leaving Frank for last.

I couldn’t believe I had just opened up like that—telling her everything. My whole life story it seemed. The happiness, the sadness, the despair—everything I’ve ever felt. She realized Frank was a sore subject for me—tougher than talking about Bert.

I sat on my bed, legs pulled up to my chest, just staring out the barred window as the sun set in the distance. The yellow-orange-ish glow that surrounded my pale room, illuminating everything in a different shade—it was breathtaking.

No one’s tried to talk to me, no one from home has contacted me—I told her no one cares. They sent me away—I’m not home, I’m not with them, I’m here, miles and miles away from them. To think, this is all because I deserve better—right.

I glanced around my room once more, my comics laying haphazardly on my desk, my clothes sticking out of my closet door, my hoodie hanging off my lounge chair, my bed still unmade from when I climbed out of it this morning. I’ve seen this sight day in and day out for a month now—I hated it here.

“Hi Mikes…how, how are you?”

I just shrugged, I really didn’t know what to feel—my mother was the only one to continuously contact me—was I supposed to be thrilled at seeing them all? I wasn’t. I heard a small cough and turned towards the sound maker.

“Visiting hours end at five-thirty, you’re free till dinner Mikey. I’ll ask you all to meet back here by then—he’s not aloud to leave the grounds just so you know.”

Cathy gave us all her infamous smile and left the room—now I really hated this place. Silence overcame all of us—not one of us dared to speak—I wasn’t going to initiate any form of conversation. I shouldn’t have to.

I stood with my forehead pressed against the cool glass pane of my window, looking up through the bars at the starry night. Am I pathetic for wishing on stars? Wishing to be free from the confines of this hell on earth? Wishing to be in the arms of the one person to take me as I am?

I turned once again towards my bed, something glittering in moonlight that now shown down into my room. I walked over towards my bed—a screw was loose—did they know? There wasn’t surveillance in our personal rooms, some law inhibited that I believe.

I knelt down and played with the loose screw until it finally came loose and I was holding it in my hand. How old was it? It wasn’t rusty at all; perhaps they changed them from the last occupant of my room?

Padded cuffs dangled at each corner of the bed—I’d panic if I was ever to be restrained like that. Losing the will to move myself freely, that’s pure torture. The coolness of the screw in my hand brought back memories—blessed memories.

I glanced down at my old scars, just barely visible in the light of the moon—a small smile playing at my lips. It had a sharp end, I could have my own end to this place—I’d have to succeed for certain though.

I smiled to myself as I sat nimbly on my bed once more, not taking a second thought on what I was going to do to myself. I just placed the screw against my skin, pushing just enough at first to get a feel as to how much pressure I’d actually have to use.

I watched as a small red line—irritated skin—formed on my forearm. I could do this. I placed the tip just below where my wrist meets my hand, the place where I could see all my veins running together and pressed down hard, dragging the screw.

I bit my bottom lip to keep my gasp of pain at bay—I didn’t want them to find me till it was too late. I did it over and over again till blood covered my arm and my leg before switching to my other arm. Doing the same—repeatedly since my arm was weakened due to my self-inflicted injury; the pain became numb after a while and I just sat there, covered in my own blood, a smile displayed on my lips.

“Care to show us around honey?”

I just shrugged before leaning over the nearest table and grabbing a handful of peanut M&M’s and popping a few in my mouth. I hadn’t tasted candy in the longest time. I noticed the decorations again; Cathy had arranged to have my favorite things displayed, colors, heroes, foods and apparently my favorite people.

I really began to wonder if my parents had been informed of my actions—perhaps they didn’t want to bring up old feelings or they just couldn’t bare to face it. How could you though? Knowing your child, your own flesh and blood wanted to die, willingly take their life, cash in early?

My eyes opened to a bright, blindingly white ceiling. I failed. I was back in my room and I glanced around, my comics had been removed, my papers had been removed—anything that could break my skin had been removed from my presence.

I felt an itch on my nose, raising my arm to scratch it—I couldn’t move. I raised my arm just slightly, feeling pain when I did so. I lifted my head, glancing down at my arms—bandaged and cuffed to the bed. Feeling the same cotton and leather around my ankles I felt my chest grow heavy and my breath catch—I was chained to my bed.

I screamed, I screamed anything that came to mind; two nurses who had grown custom to me and my antics rushed in, followed shortly by Cathy.

“Calm down Mikey—“

“Don’t tell me to calm down! I’m not going to calm down! I wanted to fucking die and you wouldn’t let me!”

All three of them were talking calmly to me as I continued to yell. Then I noticed it, she had reached into her coat pocket, pulling it out and I screamed again, squirming in a useless attempt to escape what I new was coming.

I had seen her do this to someone once before. I felt the needle pierce my thigh and moments later I began to feel drowsy before I blanked out.

“Erm, well, if you want a tour I guess I can show you around.”

Gee and Ray took each others hands as did my parents; Frank trailed along behind them all—four people away from me. His hands shoved into his pockets—was this as painful for him as it was for me?

Was he ashamed of coming here today? Seeing me again? Seeing me here—a patient of some facility? I led them out of the entrance hall and down the hall towards the large common room. Pointing out the spot I vacated just before coming to see them.

I glanced at their faces as each of them took in the sight of the people I was surrounded by—their eyes letting me know they were judging these people right this second. Judging them for being here; you were only here for a few reasons and each of them knew them all.

I could tell by their eyes they had judged me just the same—I was too shocked to have realized it. They could pick out the healthier ones from the ones who still remained ill. When they glanced at the person I was sharing the couch with—someone here for the exact same reasons as I was—I knew they judged me, seeing me as ill.