Saint Fidelity
Macie Carter
They were painting the walls.
The lot of us all had a sit down and the doctors told us that in about a week, we'd be evacuated from our rooms for a short while and sent to the lounge. When they told us, they treated it like a life-changing event. It was like we were completely changing buildings, not just colour schemes. Which I did understand, seeing as many of the people here disliked change a lot. After all, it was a mental hospital. Every single change here was treated very, very seriously.
They gave us a week warning, but despite that I still had my fears about the whole matter.
They'd be putting me in a room with other patients, people I didn't know. I wouldn't have the sanctuary of my bed to hide in, I couldn't run away, or be by myself. I had to deal with people, something I was never very good at it... and other time, it developed into a crippling fear.
They locked me up here when I was only fifteen, four years ago. They said I'd never fully get over this anxiety, this fear, but it may get better. I wish I could say it had, but if anything it was worse. Thrusting me into group sessions, where I had to talk about my issues and socialize did nothing but make me sick to my stomach. I wanted to get better- but more than that, I wanted to go home. Despite the fact my parents were the one that locked me up, I missed them, desperately so. There was a certain bitterness between my family and I, especially because they never visited. Maybe once on Christmas, if I remembered correctly.
Life in Saint Fidelity wasn't all bad, however. Against all odds, I'd met a friend. Her name was Devilyn, and though we had different issues so to speak, we got on quite well. That was a foreign concept to me, but I did welcome it. Knowing someone was there for me despite all my craziness was nice. We didn't totally understand each other as well as some would think we would, but that was alright.
I enjoyed the fact that I didn't have to pretend to be normal around her, because she wasn't either. We could embrace the fact that we had our melt downs, we could simply have normal conversations about our mental problems. I guess that was the joy of it. There were many more people just like us in Saint Fidelity, but I couldn't even possibly imagine having another friend here... or anywhere. I'd never get a boyfriend, never get married... I knew that. I was nineteen years old and I'd never been kissed. I was far too afraid of human interaction to get anywhere close.
However, that was the least of my worries at that moment. I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, I was stressed out, terrified to say the least at something no "normal person" would even have a second thought about.
They were painting the walls.
How was I supposed to deal with that?
The lot of us all had a sit down and the doctors told us that in about a week, we'd be evacuated from our rooms for a short while and sent to the lounge. When they told us, they treated it like a life-changing event. It was like we were completely changing buildings, not just colour schemes. Which I did understand, seeing as many of the people here disliked change a lot. After all, it was a mental hospital. Every single change here was treated very, very seriously.
They gave us a week warning, but despite that I still had my fears about the whole matter.
They'd be putting me in a room with other patients, people I didn't know. I wouldn't have the sanctuary of my bed to hide in, I couldn't run away, or be by myself. I had to deal with people, something I was never very good at it... and other time, it developed into a crippling fear.
They locked me up here when I was only fifteen, four years ago. They said I'd never fully get over this anxiety, this fear, but it may get better. I wish I could say it had, but if anything it was worse. Thrusting me into group sessions, where I had to talk about my issues and socialize did nothing but make me sick to my stomach. I wanted to get better- but more than that, I wanted to go home. Despite the fact my parents were the one that locked me up, I missed them, desperately so. There was a certain bitterness between my family and I, especially because they never visited. Maybe once on Christmas, if I remembered correctly.
Life in Saint Fidelity wasn't all bad, however. Against all odds, I'd met a friend. Her name was Devilyn, and though we had different issues so to speak, we got on quite well. That was a foreign concept to me, but I did welcome it. Knowing someone was there for me despite all my craziness was nice. We didn't totally understand each other as well as some would think we would, but that was alright.
I enjoyed the fact that I didn't have to pretend to be normal around her, because she wasn't either. We could embrace the fact that we had our melt downs, we could simply have normal conversations about our mental problems. I guess that was the joy of it. There were many more people just like us in Saint Fidelity, but I couldn't even possibly imagine having another friend here... or anywhere. I'd never get a boyfriend, never get married... I knew that. I was nineteen years old and I'd never been kissed. I was far too afraid of human interaction to get anywhere close.
However, that was the least of my worries at that moment. I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, I was stressed out, terrified to say the least at something no "normal person" would even have a second thought about.
They were painting the walls.
How was I supposed to deal with that?
♠ ♠ ♠
Hey, I'm Vienna AKA tate langdon. and I'm writing in Macie's point of view. Sorry the chapter is a bit short, they will get longer.Aaaand the boys will be introduced soon (;