Nine

"Wh-what are you doing?" I stuttered out as I looked down at my cuffed hands.

Kate seemed to cry even harder in the corner and even Dylan looked on the verge of tears.

"K-Kate? What's happening? Dylan? Rob?" I asked, looking around frantically as they all avoided eye contact.

"Please follow us, miss." The security guard said lowly and began leading me away.

I looked around in a panic, starting to hyperventilate as the led me out the door.

I knew what was happening. They were leading me next door to my very own cell. They must have diagnosed me with one of the most severe mental disorders because the only cells on this floor were padded rooms built for the most unstable patients.

I wanted to scream and yell, to fight them, tell them I'm not crazy but I knew they wouldn't listen, if anything it would make it all worse. I'd have to stay calm to convince them. Explain to them that I'm not crazy.

I'm not crazy.

I'm not crazy.

I know I'm not crazy.

They undid the restraints once I stepped into the room, leaving me alone, looking at the mirror I knew they were watching me through.

I sat down on the floor, bringing my knees to my face as I tried to calm my breathing. I was having a panic attack I knew it. I'd had them a lot before after my parents died.

I went over the exercises in my head.

"B-bed" I said out loud, trying to list the things I'm seeing to help ground me.

"Wh-white" I said a little louder.

I knew this made me come across even more critical but it was the only thing that worked for me.

Eventually I managed to get my breathing under control and gained control again.

What is happening?

I looked around me and my heart broke.

I missed him. I missed him a lot.

I just wanted to run over there and be with him.

I was sitting in an identical room but there was only one thing missing. The one thing that brought me peace. The one thing I needed.

Him.

A few hours later I stopped crying, just lying on the floor in my room, too dehydrated to cry anymore. I had nothing left to give.

I heard a soft ding and knew they had just delivered a trey of food into my room.

I looked over at it but couldn't find the energy to get up or to care.

I just went back to my position, staring at the ceiling or walls. Anywhere to avoid the mirror because I knew I wouldn't like what I saw.

I heard the click of the mirror being changed back into a window but couldn't bother looking through the other side. I didn't want to risk seeing my reflection.

"Hi, Opal." A soft  female voice said, "I'm doctor Pat"

I looked over at her to see her sitting close to the glass. She seemed nice, she was one of our newest doctors so I'd barely spoken with her but she always gave off a good vibe.

I just stared at her for a minute, taking in her hopeful expressions.

"How are you feeling today?"

I swear I almost laughed when she said that.

I just stared back up at the ceiling, thinking about 32, pretending I was in his cell with him. That I was laying with him instead of alone. That I was helping him instead of someone trying to fix me.

"I'm going to need you to eat something."

She was new and clearly unexperienced. Her saying that didn't convince me to eat in any way.

I just lifted my hand, examining my fingers, playing with them, staying silent.

I just had to wait until Dylan, Kate or Rob got me out of here.

They'll explain it to them. I'm not crazy! I may have an eating disorder but it certainly doesn't warrant all this. If anything they're making it worse by keeping me in here. They'll figure it out soon enough and let me out. I just have to wait it out.

They'll save me.

*****************************

I don't know how long I've been here but I haven't moved from my spot on the ground. Different doctors and people came in to try and talk to me, some even came in my cell to get me to eat but I refuse. I can't eat while I'm in here.

Every day all I do is think about 32. I wonder if he's thinking about me...

Every day gets a little easier to be away from him but I still miss him. They've given me shots with different nutrients and things, even a drip to keep me healthy but I know I need to eat real food.

I will eat, I'll eat when I'm hungry. I'll eat when they get me out of here. It should be any minute now. They'll let me out and I can go back to my job, back to helping people. They'll realize putting me in here was totally irrational.

There's no point talking to them, giving them more things to convince themselves that I'm crazy. I'm just a person that got a little attached to her patient. Its normal, natural, I'm over it, they can let me out.

****************************************

Another while passed and nothing. No one had gotten me out yet. When the doctor came in today I thought it was time to get answers.

"Hi Opal, how are you feeling today?" Dr. Pat asked me, just like ever day but this time I turned my head and looked at her to respond.

"Why am I here?" I croaked out, my throat completely dry from not having drank anything in a month. They were keeping my body hydrated through a drip.

She smiled a little that I was finally talking, all her features relaxing in relief. Did I do that? Did I stress her out? I didn't mean to stress her out. I shouldn't still be here, they should have come for me by now. Where are they?

"There are a few reasons. I've discussed them before but it seems you weren't listening. I'm not going to get into the specific medical terms, you just need to know I'm here to help you. Before anything I really need you to eat Opal. Please. It'll make you feel better, its the first step to recovery."

I stared at her, blinking but still couldn't move. I couldn't convince my body that it needed the food, every time I thought about eating I got a large wave a nausea that halted that plan in its steps.

"Where are Dylan Kate and Rob? They should have gotten me out by now. How long have I been in here?" I managed to get out through my dry throat and somehow she understood me.

"They think that you should stay here, they want you to get some help so you can come back to them strong and healthy. They told us a little about how you'd been acting the last month before you came here. They were worried about you and just want you to be okay."

They're not coming for me? They're not going to save me? They think I'm crazy?

"How long have I been here?" I asked again, suddenly very nervous about her reply.

The doctor sighed, "That's not what's important, what's important is that you eat."

"How long?" I repeated.

"2 months."

2 months. 2 months? 2 months?! 2 MONTHS!!

I was expecting her to say a week, 2 max, but 2 months. I've been laying on the floor of this cell, barely moving for months.

Maybe they were right. Maybe I am crazy. What's happening to me?

This isn't who I am. What have they done to me? What happened? Where did it all go wrong?

Why did they make me come here in the first place? Because I like spending time with a patient? Jesus Christ that's not a reason.

I knew deep down he had nothing to do with it. He may have triggered my reaction but I think everything just piled down on me. I think I need help.

I haven't seen a therapist since my parent's death and even then I didn't go often. Then Grandma dying and Jack cheating on me...

I finally had someone who showed me affection and I became obsessed. I held onto it so tight not wanting to let it go since everyone else left me.

Dylan and I had been fighting a lot and Kate was usually busy going on dates and such.

Everything crashed down on me.

What have I been doing not eating?

I need help.

I slowly managed to peel myself off of the ground, sitting up. My head felt a little dizzy but I pushed through it. My body ached from not having been used but I still managed to stand up.

I shakily managed to walk over to the food, sitting down on the bed with it.

Its time to get myself right.