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Altered States - Chapter Twenty-Eight

Alberta led me down a brightly lit hallway. I kept trying to push back the urge to turn and try to run. I was beginning to think that this whole inpatient thing was unnecessary - a waste of time for everyone.

Every room in the hall had heavy brown painted doors, each with a small glass window with mesh wire encased in each of them. I didn’t care to look into any of the windows as we walked past the doors, I wasn’t sure of what I would see and I was afraid of what I would find. Next to the doors were the letter/number system that they seemed to use. A-1, A-2 and so on. I figured each wing must have a different letter before the numbers.

“Let’s go in here, sweetie,” Alberta cooed, taking a mothering ton of voice when she addressed me.

I followed her as I was told. She sized me up and then walked over towards a shelf lined with hospital scrubs in assorted colors. She handed me what looked like a week’s worth of teal colored scrubs and a pair of black flip flop sandals.

“Nick, I want you to go into the dressing room to your left and change into a pair of scrubs, remove your street shoes and put the sandals on.”

I hesitantly took the clothing from her and did as I was told, taking my clothes off and putting them into a large white bag alone with my shoes. She was waiting for me when I came back out and took the bag and placed a long piece of masking tape across it with my name as a label.

“There, this will go into a locker along with the bag you mistakenly brought along with you until you are ready to be released,” Alberta stated in business-like manner.

“There’s things in that bag I need,” I protested as I watched her slide my belongings into a locker.

“Nick, there isn’t anything you need while you’re here, everything will be provided for you,” Alberta said as she clicked the door shut and spun the dial on the paddlelock.

We walked a short distance from that room, stopping at room number A-28. Alberta removed her key ring and unlocked the door. Holding the door open, she encouraged me to enter my room.

“It’s okay sweetie, this is your room, go ahead and make yourself comfortable.”

My first look at the room revealed something to me that was odd. There was absolutely no metal or glass in the room. The bed frame was molded plastic, the dresser was plastic and a chair was also plastic.

“I’m not suicidal,” I stated in a defiant tone.

“I know dear, it’s just hospital policy,” Alberta reassured me. “Go ahead and relax, supper will be in two hours and then we will be having group therapy an hour after dinner ends and then bedtime. Someone will be down to get you when it’s suppertime.”

I watched as she turned to leave the room, as she left, she pulled the door shut and then I realized the situation wasn’t the greatest when she locked me in my room. I was officially imprisioned. I had no choice but to stay.