Inside

By D.M. Beyer

Aida Meyer is admitted to a state psychiatric facility after a drug and alcohol overdose. While at the hospital; she learns a great deal about herself through the lives of the people that she encounters. A charming teenage psychopath, a kind, idealistic doctor, an alcoholic poet and writer, among others. Aida learns that not only herself; but everyone is locked tightly inside by something.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.M. Beyer
• Release date: Jun 17, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310757099

D.M. Beyer

I'm just a crazy girl who loves to dream about things and then scribble them down.

Book preview

INSIDE

D.M. BEYER

SMASHWORDS EDITION

COPYRIGHT 2015

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There was nothing but blackness and I was in the blackness and it was in me. And I wasn’t afraid. No, I didn’t feel a thing—and it was heaven. Yes, I had reached heaven at last. But, then a light. A terrible, penetrating light that seemed to dig into me with clawed nails. I fought for the darkness, but these nails with a shrill voice that I did not recognize pulled me from it. Pulled me from heaven. Can you hear me, Miss Meyer? It’s time to wake up I feel myself coming back into my body. Oh, God, the weight—this unbearable heaviness—like an anvil atop me. Who is this cruel entity that reigns over me? Why does it torture me so? I don’t want to come back. I don’t like it here. I never have. I want to stay in the blackness. But my love evades me; as it always has and I awake to that same old ache; wearing my same old face. The one I’d awoken to so many times before. Where are those clawed nails that only moments ago pulled me from my bliss? I should embrace those claws now—let them tear off this mask. Wher—where am I? The reply comes swift, robotic; no doubt she had rehearsed many times before. You are in Spring Grove State Hospital, dear. An ice cold plunge stabs my gut. What? I don’t understand what you’re saying The middle aged nurse raises her voice, as though I were deaf. State Hospital, dear. Admitted yesterday morning Why? Her wrinkled mouth frowns ever so slightly; feigning compassion.

You tried to kill yourself, hone Full awareness slams into me all at once and within a split second I am here again. Wholly. No. No, you’ve got me mixed up with someone else. I didn’t do that. I would remember if I tried to do something like that The nurse smiles, a smug smile that makes her leathery face appear just like a pug dog. I was the fat friend even now; used to make one feel better about themselves. At least I’m not as ugly as her. At least I’m not as sad and pathetic as her. Yes, yes. My life isn’t so bad after all. You probably don’t remember because of all the pills you took. Doctors had to pump your stomach; you took so many. Don’t you know you ain’t supposed to mix alcohol and pain meds, honey? I feel my head shaking back and forth; my body physically denying what this cliché’ of a woman was oh-so-condescendingly telling me. No, no, you’re wrong. I didn’t do that. I wouldn’t do that. I know my limits But even as I’m saying the words the memories are flooding back to me. Pouring into me just like the jugs of Vodka. I can still taste that bitter, cold medicine-like taste. Waves of nausea settle upon my head; the heavy water circulating down into my gut. Oh, here, honey. Throw up in here A plastic bucket is placed below me and my body heaves; my stomach muscles contracting; attempting to get rid of the poison that I had polluted it with. Oh, my poor body. I used to be so healthy. My mother breast fed me until I was well past two. Breast milk is the best for babies, you know. Why couldn’t I have kept my vessel pure like breast milk? Why hadn’t I kept it strong and vital? What had I done to myself? What had I been doing to myself? Oh, to be pure again; innocent. To be a baby again; nestled so safe and loved in my mother’s arms.

At the thought of the woman who bore me; I feel the nausea return with renewed vigor. But my stomach is empty and the chalky aspirin-tasting green bile is all that is left. The nurse watches me from a few feet away; unaffected. She had seen this scene play out many times before. It was nothing new to her. I felt her thoughts; heard them as if they were my own. I cringe at her disgust with me. Damn her! I did not asked to be pulled back! Just as I did not ask to be put in this wretched and vile world. This world that had only shown me sorrow. I wasn’t built for this place. I’m not strong enough to bear it. I just want to go..go..go. But, these robots in white and their minions in carnation pink scrubs—make me stay. Damn them. Damn them all. I’m going to take you out to the Recreation Area in a bit; let you meet the other residents. How does that sound? Residents? As though this were some sort of apartment complex. I didn’t want to see any other people; any of these crazy lunatics. But, I don’t reply. I don’t say anything. I was tired of ‘talking’ to this woman. I knew she wasn’t going to help me; not really. Like most people she did the bare minimum of her job requirements—bedside manner and simple kindness extra. And I did not have any money for extra so this was as good as it got. I suppose I should be grateful for the medical care. I mean, after all, they could have left me to die. But, isn’t that I wanted to begin with? Should I hate them or revere them? Once again I did not know and there was nothing to provide any answers.

The rec room was a large circular area with a large bay window at the far back. Black, iron bars covered the window to prevent any of the ‘residents’ from escaping. The bars reminded me of some old Gothic castle—or the Bastille. Where was my guillotine? Sometimes I wanted to be both chopper and chopee. The disparity of emotion exhilarated and terrified me. But, such was life. And this was my life, you know. As soon as I walk in the room the raucous conversations immediately cease as though some unseen god had suddenly removed the needle from the record player. Everyone, everyone, quiet down for a moment. This is Aida Meyer. She’s going to be with us for a little while. I want you all to welcome her I can feel the eyes upon me; swarms of African honey bees stinging me unmercifully. My skin burns; my flesh swells. I keep my head down, hoping they don’t notice me too much. OH, to be a ghost! I envy those glorious spirits. So powerful, so unseen; unbound by this physical realm. The nurse leaves me with these strangers then…these school yard bullies with their menacing; mad-man countenances. I am eight again; starting a new school for the third time that year. The school year has already started and all the kids have already formed their cliques. I am no one. I am outside; forever.

But, I have stopped looking in. I will never look in again. One of the women get up from a fold-out table near one of the navy blue couches. She starts toward me and my body immediately stiffens. The closer she gets; the more frozen I become. My face burns, oh God, this crazy bitch has set me on fire! What’s your deal, Lucille? Her voice is deep and gravelly like some wise-guy, but with a southern drawl that made the situation even more ambiguous to me. She is standing so close now I can smell the stale cigarette smoke permeating from between her yellowed fingers. I feel myself edging toward the egg-shell white wall. Why would they have a white wall in a place like this? Didn’t they know that mad people flung their own shit on the walls? How stupid the interior designer of this place must be. How did they even get into such a position? Nepotism, no doubt. It was