The room I stay in is completely grey. It’s nothing like my room back home. No pictures of movie stars cover the walls. No random paint splashes from that time I decided I would try my hand at abstract art and the wall was my canvas. There’s no desk for my vinyl player and record collection. The room is empty. Aside from the single table right next to the window who’s blinds are always drawn. I hadn’t been crazy when I was admitted here, but I’m definitely getting there. My admission into this psych ward in general was a mistake. Mom would hate it when I referred to this place as a psych ward.
“It’s a Mental Institution Maxxie. They’re going to help you get better.”
Better from what? I have no idea. I’m not crazy. Sure I’m a little on the introverted side but what teenager isn't? Mom has convinced herself that I am severely depressed and a “danger to myself.” So she had me admitted into this looney house so she wouldn’t have to care for me herself. But I don’t belong here. And when I see a boy pass my room spazzing out and talking to himself, I know I have to get out of here.
Of course I can’t just up and leave. They have nurses roaming the place like it’s a prison and they’re the guards. Which is exactly what this is. They watch our every move. I’m convinced they even have secret cameras in the bathroom. You never know with us “crazy kids.” We could head to the bathroom to do our business and end up having a melt down. The guards aren’t too bad though. They seem to be genuinely caring people. Very easy to get close to. Even easier to deceive. So if I want to get out of here the plan is not to avoid them, but to use them to my advantage.
I also have a few other advantages. Dixon and Marley. Two long term patients who know all there is to know about this place, Dixon is in here because of some eating disorder. Anorexia, I think, but I could be wrong. And as for Marley, she had Dissociative Identity Disorder. Basically, she’s two people in one body. And though they aren’t the type of people I’d associate with on the outside, in here, they’re all I’ve got and I need them if I have any chance of escaping. And since I’ve done all the exercises I need to do for today, I decide to go see Dixon.
I can tell from the stench in his room that he probably has rotting food hidden somewhere. This is such a typical routine I’m surprised none of the nurses have figured out his little game. Every day a nurse brings in his meals. He takes a portion of it, hides it God knows where, and moves the rest of the food around on the plate so that it appears that he’s at least attempted to eat it. But he never throws the food out. He’s too paranoid they’ll raid his trash cans and figure it all out. Sometimes, he does eat though. Obviously, or he wouldn’t be alive right now. But even when he does it’s usually only 3 or 4 bites of the snacks they supply him. But beyond that, Dixon is kind of amazing. He knows how to manipulate everything here to fit his needs. He doesn’t want to leave, says it’s much better than his actual house. But he’ll help me get out if I need him too.
“Hey you busy?” He looks up from the book he’s holding. I swear he’s been reading that book the entire week I’ve been here. It can’t be longer than a hundred pages.
“Nah. What do you need?”
“What makes you think I need something? I can’t come by just to say hi?”
“Nah. What do you need?”
“Fine. I have a question for you.”
“OK.”
“Do they ever let people out of here? Like if I want to visit home or something?”
“Well, yeah. But you’re gonna need your parents to sign off on it. And you’ll have to have one of the nurses escort you.”
“Of course.”
“But. You know I could probably help sneak you out of here.”
“Would you?”
“Maybe. What’s in it for me?”
“I’ll buy you dinner.”
“You’re cruel.” He picks his book back up and I know this conversation is over for now. I know that joke probably seemed a little morbid, but it’s how he and I function. I make fun of him, and when he can’t find a retort, he ends our conversation.
I head out of the eating disorder ward and head for the personality disorders to go see Marley. I try to keep quiet because, technically, we aren’t supposed to be roaming around after 9 pm. This proves to be difficult because, like I said, there are nurses everywhere. I duck into the bathroom when I hear the familiar sound of ugly uniform loafers hitting the ground. The steps are lagging. Like whoever it is is distracted by something. I peek my head out to see Nurse Rosie. As per usual, her head is lowered, staring at her cellphone, which she isn’t supposed to have out during work hours but nevermind that. I know if I get caught by her, I won’t get in too much trouble. But I’m really not in the mood for her to ask how my day was. Because then I’ll have to lie to her and say it was fine. Then she’ll ask if I’ve done all my exercises. To which I’ll respond that yes, I have. She’ll ask if they’re helping me cope with my “depression.” And again I’ll have to lie and say that they’re working wonders and that I’ve really found a new appreciation for life. Just thinking about it is making me slightly nauseous. I’m completely prepared to wait it out in this bathroom when she starts heading my way. I guess I should be grateful for her phone obsession, It’s the only reason she didn’t look up and notice me behind the door. I feel sort of cheated as I exit the bathroom. This woman has an obsession with her phone but it’s me who’s stuck in this ward, that doesn’t seem right.
The rest of my walk to the personality disorders isn’t nearly as exciting. This place is usually dead by this time of night. You know how “crazy kids” deal with their problems? They sleep. Sure some pick up a few hobbies here and there but mostly we just sleep. I expect Marley to be sleeping when I enter her room but there she is, just sitting on her bed.
“Hey Marley.” She looks at me confused.
“Marley?” Oh. So she’s Abby today.
“Sorry. Abby?”
“What do you need?” What is it with these people and assuming I always need something from them.
“Just wanted to say hi.”
“No you didn’t. Don’t waste my time, what do you need?” Abby is always a bit more confrontational. I’m contemplating waiting until Marley is back to ask her for any favors. My wait isn’t long though, in a split second the look on her face changes and I know she’s not Abby anymore.
“Hey it’s good to see you, Marley.”
“You too, Maxxie.”
“Do you want to hang out with me and Dixon tomorrow?”
“Yeah of course I do. What’re you guys up to?”
“Not much. He’s helping me with something.”
“You still think you’re getting out of here huh?”
“Goodnight dude.”
“It’s not gonna happen Maxxie. You’re delusional. And I don’t know why you act like you’re too good for this place. You’re just as messed up as the rest of us.” Abby is back. I close Marley’s door on my way out, leaving her to argue amongst herself.
The walk back to my room isn’t too far, considering Marley and I are in the same part of the hospital. Her in the multiple personality section, and me in the depersonalization section. The doctors said I’m lacking the ability to form connections with anyone or anything. But like I said, what teenager isn’t reserved and isolated? I lay down and for the first time think about what I plan to do once I actually leave here. Would mom completely flip if I just showed up in my old room? But what’s she going to do, physically force me to come back? I don’t think so. I’m about a foot taller and the woman has the strength of a toddler. I close my eyes, knowing I probably won’t sleep, instead I play my escape over and over behind my eyelids.
Dixon is in my room the next morning. I can’t remember if I invited him, but he’s here. And so is Marley, or Abby, or whoever she is at the moment.
“The nurses usually keep the back door open at night because they like to go out back for smoke breaks. It’s always propped open with a rock or something.”
“Good morning to you too, Dixon.”
“Shut up, Maxxie. If you want his help, listen to what he has to say.”
“Anyway, this door, it’s always propped open and there’s only ever a nurse by it a third of the time. So I figure if you can get to it as soon as curfew hits, you’ll have plenty of time to cross the institutions field and make it to the highway.”
“What am I supposed to do there? Hitch hike?”
“Hey, we’re only helping you to get out. What you do on the outside is all on you.”
“Honestly, Maxxie, I don’t know why you’re putting yourself through so much trouble. You know you’re going to end up back here anyway.”
“That’s unlikely, Abby, seeing as I’m not crazy.”
“Would you stop using that word? We’re not crazy, we’re sick.”
“When you say we, do you mean you and Dixon, or you and Marley?”
“Are you in here for chronic b****iness or something? Why are you always so rude?”
“Hey Abby, have you met the kid down the hall? I think he has what you have.”
“Shut up, Maxxie.”
“No really. I think the four of you would really hit it off.” Abby storms out of the room. I don’t mean to be so rude, but they’re just going to stick around if I don’t push them away.
“Why do you have to do that? You’re always so damn rude. Is that your definition of a joke? Because it’s sure as hell not funny.”
“Do you need a snack or something? I know you get grumpy when you’re hungry.” And then Dixon is gone too. I know they’ll be back to help me tonight. They always come back no matter how far I push them. That’s their real problem. Not the multiple personalities, not the eating order, their complacency is what makes them crazy. I better start on my exercises so I don’t have anything to do later.
The next time I see Dixon is at 9pm. He and Marley are in my room again and I’m wondering why they think they can be here uninvited. But before I can question them, he goes into some spiel about how I’m going to need a diversion so that I can slip out the door. Marley volunteers and I can tell from her willingness, that it’s Marley, not Abby. They begin to plan and I grab my backpack and start loading up on snacks. I’m gonna need food until I figure out where I want to go. I’m not quite sure what that plan is, I wasn’t really listening. But I’ve got a plan of my own and it’s fairly simple. Run. That’s all there is to it. Suddenly it’s curfew and they’re headed back to their separate rooms.
“Thirty minutes.” Dixon whispers to me on his way out. What am I supposed to do until then? I lie down and replay my escape again. There’s no way this could not work. It has to work. I don’t belong in here. I’m not crazy.
I don’t know how long I lie there thinking but suddenly there’s screaming a few doors down. I know it’s Marley. I grab my bag and sprint down the hall. I peek into her room to see what kind of diversion she could’ve come up with. She’s on the ground spazzing out. Nurses are gathered around her and she’s just flailing her limbs everywhere. It looks realistic, actually. Maybe she’s not pretending. Too bad I won’t be around to find out for sure. I turn the corner and stop in front of the elevator. The elevator would definitely be faster but what if someone’s in there? The stairs it is. It’s going to take me forever to get to the bottom. Why does my room have to be on the third floor. What if I actually was sick? Hurling myself out of a first story window wouldn’t do much damage, but when you put me on the third floor, the possibilities are endless. Good thing I’m not sick.
While I’m going down the stairs I can see someone going up. Who in their right mind would willingly take the stairs? But the face is familiar.
“Hey dude.” I’ve seen him around a few times. Dixon told me he’s a mute, which is why I’ve never heard him say a single word. I don’t actually know his name, it’s not like he told me. And I don’t think he minds me calling him dude. He would’ve complained if it bugs him right? He passes me in silence. He doesn’t even turn to acknowledge me. And I’m the rude one.
By the time I reach the bottom, I can see the door Dixon was talking about. I run to it only to find that it’s not open at all. No rock propping it open. Dammit. I check to see if the lock can be picked when I see someone out of my peripheral.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I turn my head to lie to him but instead my legs decide to run. The main entrance isn’t too far from here and I figure it’d be a faster escape. The nurse hesitates, like he was expecting me to run. But when he does start running, it doesn’t take him long to almost catch up with me. He starts yelling to the front desk secretaries, but I’m not listening to his words. I’m so close to the exit. One of the secretaries hurls herself in front of the door in an attempt to stop me. To no avail. I manage to squirm out of her grip. And then I’m outside. And I’m breathing actual air. And I’m me again. Not the psych ward patient me, but the actual me. All that’s left to do is get across the field. The nurse is still behind me but he got caught up with the secretary so I have an advantage now. Instead of running straight across the field, I turn the corner of the building. This is where they keep the dumpsters. I could be predictable and hide in the dumpster, but that’s disgusting. Instead, I crawl under it and hold my breath. Someone comes up to the dumpster. At first I think it’s the nurse that was chasing me but this person is not wearing the uniform loafers, so I assume it’s one of the building's security guards. As expected, he opens the dumpster and takes a look inside. I see his footsteps retreat when he doesn’t find anything in there. I wait a good five minutes before i crawl out from under the dumpsters. At this point, they’ve probably reported my runaway, which means clearing the field is going to be more difficult. But I don’t have Dixon out here to figure out my escape route and I don’t exactly have time to sit down and draw out a plan so I decide to initiate my previous plan, run. There are guards at the front of the building, and it’s not doubt they’ll see me, my only chance is to outrun them. I take off. It’s not even ten seconds before I hear the guards shouting. But I’m too far for them to catch me now. They start running anyway. I’m halfway across the field. I’m gonna make it. Or so I think. The guards must have been talking about me through their little walkie talkies because a security car pulls up and stops in front of me. I could go around it and keep running, but that would prove to be useless seeing as there’s more than one. A guard steps out. It’s one of the bigger guards. He’s at least six feet tall with a darker complexion and absolutely no hair. He looks at me for a second. I almost smile up at him but vote against it, because I’m already in enough trouble as it is. I bend down to put my hands on my knees and he immediately takes a step back. As if I could possibly be a threat to him. I’m about to explain to him that I’m just catching my breath when I collapse. Everything is completely dark. It feels like I’m sleeping. Only now the guard is holding me. Shaking me. I’m assuming he’s trying to get me to wake up. I must say, his hands seem more gentle than they looked. And now he’s stroking my hair, this is getting a little weird. I can hear him talking, but I can’t make out the words. His voice seems soft. He’s going on about some hospital. I can’t be hurt that bad. Suddenly the nurse’s voice is my mom’s.
“Maxxie. Wake up honey. We have to go check out the mental institution today.”