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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Psychology · #1322150
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Disclaimer
This work is fiction any resemblance to people or events in your life is purely coincidental and means you have a seriously strange life


I’m staring at the walls, searching with my eyes, their all I can see. Blank and sterile like my mind with no sign that anything exists beyond them. The world has shrunk to the size of this room. I’m all alone, its so quiet all I can hear is my own breathing. Everything’s numb and I have no idea how I came to be here. A door opens somewhere to my right and a tired looking woman enters. I don’t understand why I’m here. I ask the tired woman, but she gives no response, only a pitying glance, before taking a syringe full of clear liquid and injecting it into my vain, then exits the way she came. What’s happening to me I feel as though I’m floating. I can’t focus. I think im going to pass out.

I can feel the straps digging into my skin, as I strain against them, testing my limitations, making futile my attempts to be free. Rise against the restraints to often, and back come the sedatives, poison in clear syringes, making zombies of us all.

In the corner of my room, there is a camera, watching me always, one false move and the big brother like sentinels staring at the screens unseen, will be back, and all will be over again until the sedative wears off.

Uncomfortable chairs, in a bland, beige room, Eyes staring at me, analyzing my every move, every breath has meaning unknown to me. The physiatrist is obscenely fat and greasy. He wears a condescending smile, as he explains my lack of understanding as to why I am here is a symptom of my illness. I shift uneasily in hospital standard pyjamas. This isn’t right, there was never any question of psychosis, or mental instability, until the day they showed up at my house, unannounced and unexpected. forcing their way in and restraining me,. painfully, of course I resisted I had no idea who they were. this was cited as further proof of my psychotic behaviour. theres no way out whatever I say or do no matter how logical my arguments they find a way to twist it into proof of rationalising my disorder what fucking disorder im supposed to have is a mystery to me I was never told its enough to make me sigh its taken for expectance of my position no use aruing itll only end with me being sedated yet again so I rise fron the plasic chair I fel like im gonna pass out im so weak from the unidentifiable drugs they fill me with morning and night

Im led down a hall way with linoleum floors and barred windows the whole place is depressing it seam to purposely induce a dull and lethargic stat of mind the nurse that leads me by the wrist looks more suited to a job as a bouncer than a care worker

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