Excerpt from "Writer's Block"

What had brought her to this moment? There were too many small incidents that she could no longer name them all.

Skylar stared out the window wondering if she would ever again smell the flowers in a garden. What she wouldn’t give to smell fresh lavender or wild honeysuckle. This hell smelled of a mix of antiseptic, medication, sweat, and the ever-present odor of vomit. She noticed these things because there was nothing else to do but sit and categorize everything in her mind. Her schedule was rarely altered. Her medication altered constantly, causing her to lose track of time occasionally but she gained it back by noticing where the nurses and orderlies were and what they were doing. She wouldn’t let them take everything. They had taken too much from her already.

Skylar barely remembered her life before this living nightmare. The sessions with the doctor only jumbled things further in her mind. Dr. Cinfield made her speak of things that caused too many emotions to surface. There were times she cried, and times she would sing, but the worst were the times that made her scream. She no longer trusted herself to know the difference between dreams and reality. Her only hope was to find a way to stop taking the medication that Dr. Cinfield told her was imperative to her recovery. After missing a dose one evening, Skylar realized that it was critical to her sanity to quit taking the drugs and escape.

The biggest issue was that patients were watched when medication was distributed. It wasn’t always possible to slip the medication into a sleeve or hide it in a blanket until the nurse left. One nurse caught her last month trying to skip a dose; they switched to giving her shots.

There was a lady that came to visit a patient while Skylar was getting the shots. The lady was nice and spoke with her for a few moments. Skylar tried to respond to the conversation, but she wasn’t even sure the lady was real until the nurse tried to give her a shot, and the woman had seen the needle tracks down her arms and had a fit. Skylar was scared they would try to admit the poor lady the way she was screaming and yelling about patient abuse.

The lady must have said just the right thing because the shots stopped, and the pills started again later that night. A few days later the nice lady took her friend and left. She wished the lady had taken her too.

Skylar’s luck had changed only recently when she found a way to hide the medication from a new nurse. There were times she cried, and times she would sing, but the worst were the times that made her scream. She no longer trusted herself to know the difference between dreams and reality. Her only hope was to find a way to stop taking the medication that Dr. Cinfield told her was imperative to her recovery. After missing a dose one evening, Skylar realized that it was critical to her sanity to quit taking the drugs and escape.

The biggest issue was that patients were watched when medication was distributed. It wasn’t always possible to slip the medication into a sleeve or hide it in a blanket until the nurse left. One nurse caught her last month trying to skip a dose; they switched to giving her shots.

There was a lady that came to visit a patient while Skylar was getting the shots. The lady was nice and spoke with her for a few moments. Skylar tried to respond to the conversation, but she wasn’t even sure the lady was real until the nurse tried to give her a shot, and the woman had seen the needle tracks down her arms and had a fit. Skylar was scared they would try to admit the poor lady the way she was screaming and yelling about patient abuse.

The lady must have said just the right thing because the shots stopped, and the pills started again later that night. A few days later the nice lady took her friend and left. She wished the lady had taken her too.

Skylar’s luck had changed only recently when she found a way to hide the medication from a new nurse. She was growing more determined in her quest for freedom. If she didn’t give herself away, the new nurse may be her best bet to escape.

Outside the window, big puffy white clouds loomed in the sky reminding her of being a child and playing outside. This was a good day. Coherent thoughts meant she could scrutinize her surroundings. She would remember every detail. Some things she would use in her therapy session later today if she could keep from laughing. Maybe she would just laugh and not say anything. A nice hysterical laugh with eyes bulging while staring at nothing might be just what the doctor needed. If she could pull off a good scream it would add to the effect. Then again, maybe she shouldn’t push it. If she overacted the doctor would know something was wrong and adjust her medication again. She knew what to expect from the current medication, if they changed what she was taking it could cause more problems and she would never get out.

Escape! The word kept screaming in her head. Soon! She told the voice. Soon! That part of her mind didn’t want to listen, and it took most of her strength to push the voice to the back of her mind. This was part of the reason she was in this mess. Voices in her head could be put to good use too. The doctor always liked what they had to say. She taped the conversations as if worried she would miss a single word.

Focus! She needed to be able to concentrate and there was still too much medication in her system to consider escaping. She couldn’t walk well enough yet. Dr. Cinfield didn’t like her patients being too mobile. It gave them too much of a chance to escape. If the drugs didn’t slow you down enough, well, an accidental fall could injure you enough to leave a person bedridden for a few days. Practicing in her bathroom each night wasn’t easy. The bathroom was one of the few places without cameras, but it was small. Besides, if she spent too much time in the bathroom, they would check on her. She needed more time. The whole process was frustrating and slow. There were too many chances of getting caught. There had to be a better way.

The chair she now sat in was old. The material was stained and torn, but the cushion had somehow maintained its shape, making it one of the most comfortable chairs in the recreation room. No one else disturbed her when she sat for hours looking out the window. During coherent moments, she noticed which orderlies and nurses showed any hint of kindness. These were the people that might inadvertently provide the needed help to escape.

The patient’s recreation time rotated so you weren’t always with the same people. This was a precautionary measure because fights occurred occasionally. The room was large. Round tables with chairs were provided, along with a few games. Televisions were mounted high on the walls at each end of the room. Nothing with edges so patients couldn’t get hurt. Old, overstuffed couches and chairs sat within viewing distance of the televisions. Skylar’s chair was near a bookshelf that held a few books and old magazines. No one ever read, but it showed guests that they were provided reading material.

The central recreation room was in the middle of the building, just behind the lobby. The location was essential in helping guests overcome their anxieties about leaving their family members in an institution. It also gave patients the perception that they might one day walk out those doors. Skylar knew that her chances were slimmer than most. She didn’t feel she was being dramatic to think that her only option was to escape, or she might die here. She had no one to help her. No one to visit her. No one left who cared.

There were smaller recreation rooms throughout the facility. A little closer to the rooms where a patient could walk on their own if allowed. Skylar had been to a few. Some were themed for children, but she had never seen any children.

The clunking sound of a woman’s shoes echoed through the room. It was almost time for her medication. This was the hard part. She was in the central recreation room today. There was no place to hide the medication here. If she didn’t come up with an idea soon, she would have to take it. Her body shivered at the reminder of the nightmares that would follow if she took the pills. Dr. Cinfield would love the nightmares. She always did.

“Think, before it’s too late. Think!” She whispered to herself. Time was running out.

You can find out what happens next by purchasing Writer's Block.