Rose Oaks

We all want a second chance. We all want to be told the truth, instead of lies. One lie could change everything, and that’s exactly what had happened. I don't think I can change the lie, but I can surely try to change myself. Because for one, I can't change anyone else, or the past. If I can change myself before it's too late, I can change the future. That would make things so much better.

"Kaelie," I heard my name be called, but I didn't respond. I don't know where I am, at the moment, but I'm sure it's some kind of hospital. Mental house, maybe.

"Kaelie," My name was called a little louder.

I think my eyes were open, but I'm not really sure. They could be closed, but then again if they were closed I wouldn't see the busy carpet down under my size 7 feet. The blue mixed with the red, and the yellow dots. I could also see green specks.

"Kaelie!" the voice was so loud this time, it made my head jerk up to look around, and find that about 10 heads were turn towards me, looking at me. I blinked, and shrugged it off. I looked towards the person calling my name, or should I say people?

"Yeah?" I asked, and the female with a blue scrub on, and her blonde and gray curly hair placed in a bun on the middle back of her head.

"Answer the question, please!" She yelled towards me. I wonder how long they've been trying to get my attention.

"Sorry, what's the question?" I asked to no one in particular.

"What's your feeling word today?" The nurse, with brown skin and black hair asked me. I shrugged at her and simply answered with the word "Suicidal,"

Their backs straightened and the room fell completely silent, - I don't know if it's just me, but I guess no one has ever used that word as their feeling word - and was full of a awkwardly tensed feeling.

"Why's that?" One of the girls in a chair around me asked. I turned my head towards her and blinked my big blue eyes. The girls unbrushed hair was in a pony tail, trying to hide the fact that the knots where just big lumps of curly hair.

"I don't want to be here; in the world; this atmosphere." She blinked.

"Why?"

"Don't you have any questions other than ones that start with 'why'?" I groaned at her.

The girl just turned away after being asked that question. I didn't like being asked questions, apparently.

"Kaelie, it's good to get things off of your chest. If you don't, things will get all bottled up, and you'll eventually explode with all these feelings that'll put you on the edge of suicide." I scoffed after she said that, although whenever she said the word 'suicide' I cringed, even if I did almost just say a word similar to it.

"I don't think bottled up feelings are going to do anything to me," I told her, in a annoyed voice. "besides, I don't like talking about my feelings that much."

"Maybe you should write about it on this piece of paper?" She asked sweetly, after sighing in annoyance. I narrowed my eyes to look at her. She had a I.D card hooked on the collar of her undershirt; a white polo. It had a old picture, possible a year old one, placed on the side with the name "Bridget M." beside the picture. It then had some more information, like her date of birth, the place she works at, and just random things about her, like where she worked at in the hospital; which I just found out was named Rose Oaks, a behavior hospital. But, those things weren't that important for me to worry none about.

"Sure," I told her, as she wrote some thing down on a piece of paper.

"I'll probably need more paper than that," I told her, and she nodded stabling some more paper to the one she had wrote something on. I stood up and lazily dragged my feet over to the table that was sitting at. The table was connected to the wall, so it would be disconnected and used as a weapon, I assume.

I took the table and made my way back over to the white table that many memories to people since the year 2004. Or, at least that's probably whenever they started to write on it. I traced a heart that was drawn on the table, after sitting in my white fold up chair. Wrote nicely in the heart said 'R&B 1/3/2004'. It's been four years since then, I wonder if they're still together…

I blinked at the paper in front of me, and then stood back up, walking back over to the table with Mrs. Bridget, and the other nurse was at. I looked at a pink box in front of me, and I opened it up, seeing 14 nicely sharpened pencils. Their metal ends and erasers had been removed, for safety reason, and replaced with a simple pink eraser.

I rolled my eyes at their 'safety' pencils, picked one up, and made my way back towards the table. I sat down, scooted close to it, and pressed the pencil down and began to write.

14 minutes later, and two pages written, I stopped. That was enough for then to know for today. I flipped to the first page and stared at it. I sighed, and began to read.

'The reasons to feel suicidal,
I feel suicidal because I honestly don't believe I belong here anymore. No one understands anymore and I am truthfully on the edge of exploding. My self esteem is lower than -205, if impossible.
The hardest part is letting go, right? Well, the first to have ever said that, thumbs up. It's 100 percent correct. I agree with it completely. Ugh. I had to tell that person I didn't care anymore, didn't I? The dumbest, and the most retarded lie I have ever even thought about telling. It's not their fault that I knew I was destined to hurt them, and destroy their life if I got too close to them. It's just.. How I am, I guess.

'I told them over and over again that I would crush them; break them to pieces. They didn't believe me and they kept trying to drive me closer and closer to my breaking point. That person got pass my comfort zone, and for moments time.. I was perfectly fine with that, until I realized what I would to do both of us. And how bad I would feel if I didn't stop it now, and not do it later whenever it would hurt even more.'

I quickly turned over the piece of paper, I really didn't feel like reading past that point. I didn't wanted to be reminded that my parents are drug-addicts and are addicted to alcohol, and my dad was abusive.. No, scratch that. is abusive. I shuddered just thinking about it.

"Are you finished writing, sweetheart?" The brown skinned nurse asked, and I nodded. She leaned over the table to take my paper, and I noticed she had a I.D card as well as Mrs. Bridget. But unlike Mrs. Bridget's, this one had a recent picture instead of an old one. The name on it, above all of the other junk, was Vivian B.

She then took my paper, and the other girls paper's as well.

"Okay girls, it's time to line up. But, Kaelie, you can't go downstairs until you see your doctor, so just get in front of the line and I'll tell you where to sit." I nodded at Mrs. Bridget and stood up whenever the rest of the girls stood up and piled out of the 'day room' and into the hallway, beside the double doors.

"Alright, go out." Mrs. Vivian told us.

I was in front of the line, so I began to walk, and once I got to the nurse's station - that's what they called it because it was a station full of nurses - I stopped and waited for one of the nurses to tell me where to go next. Mrs. Bridget came to my side, and looking at a different day room, where the boys were staying, I assume, only because the boys were sitting down in it.

She pointed me to a empty school desk with a orange chair. I shrugged and made my way over to it, and slid my body through it. I leaned back, and saw the horribly big space between my stomach and the desk. I shuddered.

Damn I'm skinny, I told myself as I felt my leg being kicked. I looked up and saw one of the boys nod their head up at me, a way to say 'what's up' or 'hey' or… whatever. I didn't really care. I rolled my eyes and looked down at the desk, and how the brown swirls mixed in with the wood material.

I was there, sitting in a desk, after the boys left down stairs to go eat breakfast, and with some boys that had to stay up. They weren't up because they were new, but because they were on Unit Restriction. Unit Restriction is where you're restricted to stay in your unit; the second floor, in my case. You can't get out of your desk, and you have to raise your hand to speak. You can't go downstairs whenever the others go down. Basically.. You're second floor arrest. Yeah, I'll call it that…

I waited about 15 minutes, and then I heard a "Kaelie D?" and at that, I turned my head towards a Mexican doctor. He looked young, so I assume he must be a student in learning. I shrugged, stood up and went over to him. He smile.

"How are you today, Kaelie?" I shrugged at his question and followed him into a room that had the same annoying, busy carpet, but with a moveable desk, a couch, and about four chairs. A old lady, with light, and dark gray hair, wrinkly skin, that looked so fragile if you barely even touched it, she would fall apart.

She smiled up at me, and gestured with her hand to sit in the chair right in front of the brown polished desk. I did as she wanted me to and got myself situated in the chair.

"How old are you, Kaelie?" She asked, flipping through a three-ring binder that had my name written all over it; not literally.

"17," I answered her, looking at one spot on the desk, trying to focus my attention on that one brown spot. My features told everyone differently; everyone always think I'm younger than like, 15.

"You look much younger than that, Kaelie." She reminded me.

"So I've been told." I told her, and smiled.

"Anyway, my name is Dr. Booth and I'll be your… " She looked at me as if she wanted me to finish the sentence. But, I didn't. I didn't feel like wasting my breath with something I honestly don't think is important enough for me to speak. She just smiled. "Doctor."

I forced a smiled, "That's nice." But, I said in apathetically.

"Indeed, it is." She smiled.

"Kaelie, do you have mood swings?"

"I'm bi-polar." I told her, looking straight past her. And past the window. I looked into the city of Shreveport, Louisiana. The busy streets buzzed with the cars gliding on the black top roads. Birds chirped loudly, and people walked around on the sidewalks.

I smiled at the thought of being one of those people, walking on the sidewalk.
I wanted to be one of them. To be one of them would be amazing. I wanted to be walking on the street, whistling silently to myself, crossing the road, after the walking signal had turned to green. Yeah, that's that I want to be doing instead of sitting here.

"So, I see." The doctor told me, whom name I had already forgot. I wasn't about to embarrass my self and ask her for it. Oh well. It doesn't matter. Like, if I wanted to know, I'd look on her stupid name tag, Jesus.

I leaned back in the chair and stared at her, waiting for her to do whatever she wanted to do with me in her office. I shuddered at the thought of the things she could do to me, or… stuff. She stared at me blankly, with a stupid smiled plastered on her face. Stupid doctors and their stupid smiles that were to make us comfortable. But, it didn't. It made me… feel awkward and weird.

"Why are you Kaelie?" She asked, finally after a long time of awkward silence.

"Why don't you look at the things they wrote about me whenever my friend brought me in? What were they called? Charts? Yea." I knew I was being a stubborn asshole, but honestly, I didn't care the slightest bit.

The doctor nodded and flipped through that folder some more. She stopped at a purple page and began to read, still, with that stupid, stupid smile on her face. Finally, she let out a small chuckle.

"Can you tell me how you try to kill yourself, Kaelie?" I shrugged a little at her question.

"I downed a bottle of Advil with alcohol." I told her, then flipping my arms over, to the bottom side. My eyes got caught on my left wrist. I couldn't even count how many damn cuts were sliced deeply on my skin, especially by the veins.

"And I sliced my wrists and stabbed at my veins." I told her, without any signs of displeasure on my face. I kept a 'I don't care' look on my face.

"Well, Kaelie, looks like you have a lot of work to do while you're here at Rose Oaks." She paused for a second to close the folder with my name on it.

"I’m going to put you on Prozac, you'll start that tomorrow, and then some Trazodone, you'll start that tonight."

I shrugged again and then I smiled at her, only to make her feel uncomfortable with me in the room; it worked. I could see her fidgeting in her seat.

"So, welcome to Rose Oaks, behavior hospital. I hope you learn something while you're here, and it might take longer than two weeks, but believe me, you will get better."

More than two weeks. Those four words rang through my head. I grabbed the folder and stood out of my hair and headed out of the door, and then made my way towards the nurses station, placing the folder down on the desk. I nodded quickly to the nurse behind the counter, and went back to my desk.