Games Psychos Play
Chapter 2 Routine
White walls, white curtains, white sheets, white pillows, white tables, white floors with spots of blue, white cups, white plates, white, white, white. The only spot of color I ever saw was the spot of blood on the nurses uniforms from one of my tantrums. Maybe that’s why I threw them, the longing for some sort of color in my life. I got use to it though, the dull, the bland, its in the food, its in the people, its the constant thing that surrounds you. Psych wards are redundant. A person can drive themselves crazy sitting in a room surrounded by four blank walls, with a metal desk bolted down to the floors. I wanted to have a roommate, I lost that privilege when I first got here. The nurses unlocked my room, sat me on the bed, and unlocked my handcuffs. Nurse Particia, a bitch with a clipboard and ragged brown wig walked in.
“Number 417 in?”
“In.” Responded one of the nurses. She checked a box on her paper and proceeded reading.
“Just got done with psycho analysis huh 417?” I looked at her but didn’t respond. “Not surprised it was a short session” said Nurse Patricia. She waited irritably for an answer.
“Are you talking to me patty?” I asked calmy staring her in her face. She pursed her lips and walked a few steps closer.
“It’s Patricia.” She said snarling. I leaned a little closer and spoke as soft as I could.
“And my name is Gwen, not 417.” I smiled slightly and she managed to twitch in a very insincere smile and walked up to the barred window that was placed in the north wall of my room.
“Oh 417, you are a piece of work.” She pulled the bars to ensure they were locked tight, “that’s why we make sure we keep you all locked up.” She turned to me and smiled and made her way to the door. “Dinners in an hour.”
“Thanks Patty.” I said as she left out the door followed by the other nurses. The security guard snapped the door closed and once again I was alone. Well not truly alone because the guards took turns guarding my door. ‘What a hassle’ I thought, ‘all this for little ole’ me’ and oh boy did nurse Becky hate me. The girl that came in and turned her psych ward upside down. I almost felt bad for her. She was all about routines, and now she had to change her perfect schedule for me, the special nutcase. Once I decided to play the piano during T.V. time, and Patricia nearly had a stroke. She ordered the nurses and guard to escort me back to my room immediately. That wouldn’t be the last time I messed with her daily routines.
There wasn’t really much to do in my room. I liked to think that I had my own routine. I would move up, down and around the room. From laying down on the bed to sitting up, from laying on the desk to sitting in the chair. Tapping my fingers, tapping my feet, pacing back and fourth, walking around, sitting, standing , tapping, tapping, tapping, skip a beat, lay them flat, tap again, get up, pace, pace, pacing, back and fourth, back and fourth, jump. Jump? Jump. Jumping, jumping, jumping, back to pacing, back to walking, back to tapping, tapping, tapping, tapping, pacing, peering, jumping, shaking, tapping, tapping, tap—
“You got a visitor.” In walked one of the security guards but I couldn’t move, I just sat there. I couldn’t. Stop. Tapping.
“Number 417 in?”
“In.” Responded one of the nurses. She checked a box on her paper and proceeded reading.
“Just got done with psycho analysis huh 417?” I looked at her but didn’t respond. “Not surprised it was a short session” said Nurse Patricia. She waited irritably for an answer.
“Are you talking to me patty?” I asked calmy staring her in her face. She pursed her lips and walked a few steps closer.
“It’s Patricia.” She said snarling. I leaned a little closer and spoke as soft as I could.
“And my name is Gwen, not 417.” I smiled slightly and she managed to twitch in a very insincere smile and walked up to the barred window that was placed in the north wall of my room.
“Oh 417, you are a piece of work.” She pulled the bars to ensure they were locked tight, “that’s why we make sure we keep you all locked up.” She turned to me and smiled and made her way to the door. “Dinners in an hour.”
“Thanks Patty.” I said as she left out the door followed by the other nurses. The security guard snapped the door closed and once again I was alone. Well not truly alone because the guards took turns guarding my door. ‘What a hassle’ I thought, ‘all this for little ole’ me’ and oh boy did nurse Becky hate me. The girl that came in and turned her psych ward upside down. I almost felt bad for her. She was all about routines, and now she had to change her perfect schedule for me, the special nutcase. Once I decided to play the piano during T.V. time, and Patricia nearly had a stroke. She ordered the nurses and guard to escort me back to my room immediately. That wouldn’t be the last time I messed with her daily routines.
There wasn’t really much to do in my room. I liked to think that I had my own routine. I would move up, down and around the room. From laying down on the bed to sitting up, from laying on the desk to sitting in the chair. Tapping my fingers, tapping my feet, pacing back and fourth, walking around, sitting, standing , tapping, tapping, tapping, skip a beat, lay them flat, tap again, get up, pace, pace, pacing, back and fourth, back and fourth, jump. Jump? Jump. Jumping, jumping, jumping, back to pacing, back to walking, back to tapping, tapping, tapping, tapping, pacing, peering, jumping, shaking, tapping, tapping, tap—
“You got a visitor.” In walked one of the security guards but I couldn’t move, I just sat there. I couldn’t. Stop. Tapping.