Asylum

TW: Suicidal tendencies, violence, medications, affairs

For years they kept me alive. Not happy, but stable. I made few friends and kept to myself. I hadn’t spoken since the incident. I refused to speak or show what had happened, for nobody would believe me.

I had nothing to say, so I stayed quiet.

A select few were allowed around me, but I was so drugged I could barely focus on them. I was losing hope. This institution had held me for six years now. It was coming back. My medications were slowly decreased, thanks to my psychiatrist.

He thought he could keep me alive. They all did.

My sheets were anti-suffocation, and the taps and showers were slanted, preventing any forms of hanging.

I started seeing a new psychotherapist, who wanted to make me talk.

Dr. Hart, but she told me to call her Kira. She was tall with a slim frame, almost as skinny as the patients with eating disorders.

I pitied them. They made me sad, watching the pain through their expressions as they lifted food to their mouths.

I glanced up, seeing Kira’s mouth move without hearing what she was really saying. I tried to tune in but gave up after hearing her ask how I was feeling.

Bad. Drowning in my own wallowing despair.

I allowed myself to drift off again, this time with strained difficulty.

“Your husband— he was abusive?” I stopped, raising my eyes to meet hers.

I shook my head once. No. He was not that evil. Kira’s eyes widened as she acknowledged my response.

“You loved your husband?” she tried.

She’d lost me. This had me sink into the memories of his death. The initial shock as I stared at his limp, lifeless body. The grief tearing the breath from my lungs. My head heavy as I tried not to cry… I hadn’t noticed, but she had fell silent. Kira had realised I was no longer there. Mentally.

We slipped into a soothing sort of quietness. She seemed rather uncomfortable, but the silence was my strong suit. My mind dozed, again.

“Maggie,” Kira said abruptly.

I knew no Maggie. My eyes remained downcast. In my peripheral vision, she tilted her head for a moment, thinking. It was entrancing, to watch the human mind work. The way it stopped as I stared, barely seeing, at the love of my life.

“Maria,” she corrected triumphantly.

Now I raised my head, eyes burning with cloaked fury. I felt it again, bubbling inside me. Kira ignored this. She seemed to be internally celebrating my vague responses, a smile plastered to her plump lips. Too much bright red lipstick. His blood was darker.

“She was your best friend. Visits you frequently. Although she requests private sessions, so we do not know what she says to you. I assume it’s friendly?” Kira felt as though she was on a roll.

Her excitement rolled off her like waves. My eyebrow twitched, a warning sign. She should not push unnecessary buttons.

I remained silent, and she continued awaiting an answer. I would not give her the satisfaction. Instead, I leaned back, staring blankly at the wall.

“I was the one who suggested your medicines are lessened,” she admitted, eyeing me, expression unreadable.

I blinked, agitated. I liked not focusing, not being here. She brought me back. I sank further into my chair, trying to sink into the depths of my happy place.

“Were you aware that Maria had an affair with your deceased husband?” she asked cautiously.

My jaw tightened, her voice an echo in my tired ears. ‘Affair’. I was more than aware. He wouldn’t be gone if that word hadn’t been put to use. It was far different to walk in on it, than to have him break down the next day about it. Both happened.

“My husband is cheating on me, too.” Now I was intrigued.

She was trying to relate? I’m considered a psychopath. I frowned slightly. I had not liked the sound of that. It was a term for murderers with minds not quite there. I allowed myself to dwell on that for a moment, fading into my thoughts.

“I’m luckier, though. He’s having an affair with a woman I’m not close with. I love him too much to leave, though.” Through the corner of my eye, I saw a single tear trickle down her thin cheek.

I held back a scoff. What an idiot. Affairs are peculiar things. Your partner lures you into a false sense of security, building a huge glass box to keep you both in. You can see the outside world, but it is irrelevant as long as your partner is loyal. Then, much like Eve and the apple, they are tempted, and leave the security of their happy home with the goal to commit evil. That’s when the glass wall cracks. When you find out, it shatters, cutting you and tearing you into a thousand pieces, like a thick knife to the heart. Sometimes this inflicts sadness, or anger.

When I tuned back in, she had already finished her story, none of which I had listened to. She seemed disappointed. I did not care.

“Is that why you killed him?” Kira finally asked, after a long silence.

I had not noticed the tears pouring from my eyes until my vision became blurry. Another wave of depression had hit, mid-session, and my psychotherapist was too busy questioning me to notice. She was playing detective.

Instead, she took it as a yes. “You realise I will have to report this?”

My eyebrows furrowed; eyes narrowed. “No.”

Kira’s eyes widened until she looked like a fish. I shook my head defiantly.

“I… did n- not.. kill,” I managed, throat hoarse. “Not.. inten—tional.”

Her mouth dropped open. I shut mine. That was all she was getting.

I had something to say, so I said it.

“Thank you for talking to me!” she exclaimed happily.

My heart hurt. I was very much done. She did not understand my point. With a pained sigh, I closed my eyes, contemplating.

I then hobbled out of the bare, white room, greeted by a nurse at the exit.

As I shuffled away, I acknowledged the hope I had once felt had disintegrated, and I had done nothing to prevent it.

Aching everywhere, I accepted defeat and rested. I prayed that I would never wake back up.