The New Medication

.......Crap. I hate when this happens. I watch quietly as my hands and feet crash into the

walls, the floor. I watch the world spin 'round as I writhe on the cold tile. Why can't

I scream? I'm terrified, yet all I can do is watch as my body destroys itself. I feel a

sharp pain. I look to my legs, with my fingernails impaled in the flesh. With a morbid

calm I feel my hands begin to ache. They can't keep this grip for much longer. Soon they

give up, only to give up the brief relief of stillness and resume scratching the walls,

whacking the floor. My legs kick the sink. I watch my soap and brush fall, almost in slow

motion, so peacefully... When they land, my eyes are drawn to the opening door.


.........Mom must have heard the banging. She tries to restrain me. No, stop. Ignorant to

my silent pleas, she continues to try. A fist flies. I watch helplessly as it goes toward

her. Contact is made. For the first time, I begin to cry. Please leave, Mom; don't see me

like this. I'll try harder to get better, there's no need to worry. Crap, she's seen my

tears.


........She's saying something. What is it? She says it again... Oh. She's threatening me

with psychiatric lock-down again. Like I have any control over this. Bang, whack, crack,

crash; limbs flail erratically in the small space of the bathroom.


Then... it's over.


.........I lay shivering. Moments later, my voice suddenly decides to work again. A

terrifying screech erupts; racked with so much agony and fear, I hardly believe it's

coming from me.