White Washed Asylum | Teen Ink

White Washed Asylum

November 14, 2007
By Anonymous

Pale screaming continued to fill my ears from the vehicle that led us here. Screams that were meant to give hope to those in need but often only delayed the inevitable. One look and the irony hit me, while the ambulance screamed for the entire world to hear he lay still and silent. It reminded me of that children’s story with the dwarves, where Snow White lay as a statue as she slept. The pain in my ears continued to give me doubts that this tale would have a happy ending.

Hospitals are the worst for me. Nothing good has ever happened to me as long as I can remember from this place. The blank white stare of the walls were like a clear image to me of a pale horse on which death rode. All around me were the rest of the team, still stinking of the sweat and blood of the game. How could victory be stolen away so easily? To go from the highest of highs, to now was worse than a kick to the gut: it just wouldn’t go away.

Cries of the baby filled the air, a shrill cry from everyone voiced by one so small. Darkness shrouded me like a black veil. What was the point of fighting so hard when it could all be taken away? Like a thief in the night it could all be gone in minutes…
My ears began to ease into a dull throb, leading me to realize how badly I hurt. Like broken glass that continues to get stepped on long after it is too small to notice, everything hurt. Nothing felt right inside or out. I had a sneaking suspicion that I had been dinged on the head as my lunch began to fight its way back to the light of day. I stood up and took one wobbly step towards the bathroom. The next thing I remember my head was in the sterile blank confines of the toilet.
Heaving up everything didn’t help the pain in my chest or stomach, but only led me to feel even emptier. Numbness overtook me, as though I was exposed to the arctic wind far too long inside my soul. A broken wrist battled furiously with my headache to get my attention, but it was the cold that hurt the worst.
All those familiar faces had tears in their eyes as I walked back into their judgmental stares. My face was completely dry, save for the crimson fluid flowing from the cut between my eyes. What was wrong with me? Was I dead inside? I viciously ripped through memories trying to remember the last time tears had flowed from my eyes. I couldn’t find it.

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