Alone

It was the middle of the night when I was taken by ambulance to the psych ward. Upon arrival, the nurse on duty walked me down a dark hallway. As I peered into each room, I could make out the shadows of people lying in the beds. My mind conjured up images of concentration camps.

“This is your room,” she said to me before leaving me alone in the dark.

I lay awake all night listening to the sounds of the psych ward.

The next morning, there was no wake-up call. No announcements. No directions.

I wandered down a long hallway, taking in the people around me. Some muttering to themselves, some shaking uncontrollably, some crying, some angry, some staring off with a blank expression.

I took note of the phones hanging from the wall, the sterile walls and tables, and the incessant flipping of television channels happening in the main room.

I was certain I was being held against my will in a prison. There could be no other explanation.

A little while later, people began to line up in the hallway. I wasn’t sure what was happening, so I wandered back to my room, muttering nonsense to myself. Breakfast was brought to me in the main room shortly after everyone had left.

I spent the rest of the day wandering up and down the long hallways, whispering strange phrases and prayers. I was convinced God had given me a task to complete, and I wasn’t sure how to solve the puzzle. So I continued to try to work it out aloud. People passed me by, ignoring my strange mutterings.

That afternoon, I was called by name and led to a small room. A strange man entered and closed the door behind him. “Can we leave the door open?” I asked, terrified that I was about to be murdered. In a cold and calculated voice, the doctor asked me why I was concerned.

“I don’t want to be locked up alone in a room with someone I don’t know,” I explained before he cracked the door back open.

The interview continued, and I evaded his every question, certain he was gathering information to use against me.

After a few minutes, he released me.

Shortly after, a window on the side wall swung open, and a nurse appeared to hand out medication. I approached the nurse, debating what to do. What if they are trying to poison me? I wondered. Before I had time to think anymore about it, the drugs were in my hand, and the nurse was pushing a cup of water at me. I panicked and tossed the drugs into the trash.

“Let’s try that again,” the nurse said. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was leading into my fourth night without sleep. Certain I didn’t have any choice, I took the medication and waited to die.