I walked down the corridor with my hands still bound behind my back, a cop behind me with my eyes focused on the ground. I could feel the beady eyes of the other fucked up guys in here taking me in, trying to read me and see how much of a potential threat I could be to them. And the truth was... not much at all. But they couldn't know that.
"You have to act tough in there,"
Maddie's words ran through my head again, over and over in an endless cycle that almost made me piss myself in fear.
"Or else you'll get eaten alive."
I looked up to see a woman in a nurse's uniform in front of me. She tapped a clipboard in her hand impatiently as she raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response.
"Uh," I paused, "Ian Becker."
"Welcome to St. Patricks Psychiatric and Behavioral Institution, Mr Becker." She gave me a sickly sweet smile. "You're going to hate it."
Well she's friendly.
The officer that brought me inside roughly took the handcuffs off, nudging me forward to follow the nurse who turned around.
"This is going to be your room." She gestured to a closed door with what looked like scratches on it. "You'll sleep now, we'll wake you up for breakfast tomorrow and then sessions start soon after. I suggest you make friends with those you can. The few sane ones at least. If you can even find any."
She opened the door for me and I inspected the interior. Two beds with thin sheets and a singular flat pillow to match. No decorations or anything to brighten the dark colored room other than the occasional phallic drawing or profanities carved into the walls.
"Roommate?" I asked, glancing at the messy bedspread with clothes scattered around it.
"That would be Draven," she sighed, "good luck with that."
She went to walk out the door again but I caught her attention before she could go. "What's that supposed to mean?"
The nurse sighed again before hesitating. She peeked around the corner before turning to me again as she spoke in a hushed whisper, "let's just say that he doesn't have the greatest reputation here."
My lips parted, words caught in my throat as she abruptly shut the wooden door. I grimaced at the stray blood stains on the floor and collapsed onto the uncomfortable mattress.
Maddie was probably crying herself to sleep right now. Or maybe she was screaming at our shitty mother. I'd guess even the hospital, but I doubted she would go there to see our father after what happened.
After being forced out of the house, I was brought to St. Patrick's and changed into an itchy, pale blue shirt with matching pants that barely fit, before an invasive pat down to assure that I didn't have any weapons on me. I thought I was going to be taken to jail, but considering that I was underage, they brought me here instead. A mental hospital for crazies.
A place where I don't belong.