I'm Not Crazy: Chapter One

I sat with my head against the car window, staring out at the relatively perfect weather. Ironic.

I was riding in the back seat of my close friend, Ben's, car and we were headed to the last place I wanted to go to.

We pulled in front of a large brick building and Ben turned around in his seat. I wouldn't look at him.

"I'm sorry, Phil," He said, "But this is for the best."

"I'm not crazy, Ben." I said through clenched teeth. My nostrils flared as I tried to hold back my anger.

Ben nodded and said, "I know, Phil. You're not crazy, but you need help."

"I don't need help." I said sharply, "I'm fine."

Ben smiled pityingly and said, "Phil,"

His voice is so nauseatingly calm, I thought, I think he's the one who's sick here.

He belongs in the hospital instead of you. You don’t deserve this, Phil.

"You accused Mrs. Hart of poisoning you." Ben said gently, "Do you remember what happened next?"

I didn't answer. I remembered. How could I forget?

Ben said softly, "When she claimed you were lying, you picked her up and threw her into the copy machine."

I still didn't look at him. I didn't want Ben to see the tear roll down my cheek.

Be a man, Phil. Men don’t cry.

"She's in the hospital now, Phil." Ben said, "You could've killed her."

I remained silent as Ben got out of the car and opened the back door.

I reluctantly got out of the car and went with Ben to the entrance of the large brick building. That building was a psychiatric hospital.

Two men met me at the door. They didn't look like they wanted any trouble. You see, that's the problem with the world; people are too nice.

I looked at Ben for possibly the last time.

He looked uncomfortable, but he held out his arms, questioning for a goodbye hug.

I shook my head. I was not about to hug that bastard.

Ben's face fell slightly, but nodded understandingly.

After I turned away from him and followed the men into the hospital, I wished I had hugged Ben.

They had me talk to a therapist first thing when I got there.

"Well," I said when I sat down in the small office, "This is some welcome wagon."

The two men who met me at the front door left and the therapist sat down in a chair across from me. She had blonde hair that came down to her chin and she was wearing a green turtleneck sweater.

I didn't think I could stay in this place much longer, let alone live there. Everything was too soft. The people were too soft, the chairs were too soft, I was sure the food would be too soft too.

"So, Phil," The therapist said, "I'm Dr. Anders. Why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself? Do you know why you're here?"

Her voice was sweet as syrup, her smile as bright as the sun. It was sickening to me.

Just disgusting.

I leaned back in my chair and said, "I threw my co-worker against the wall."

"Uh-huh..." Dr. Anders said casually, writing something down.

"A woman," I said softly, angrily. Everything made me angry.

"Was she your wife? Your girlfriend?" Dr. Anders said without looking up from her clipboard.

"What?"

"Were you close to her?" Dr. Anders asked, looking at me.

I’m sorry, but is that any of your freaking business?

I said sharply, "No, was not, am not, will not be close to her. She was just a stupid bitch who doesn't know what she's talking about."

Dr. Anders eyed me curiously and I said, "She's still alive. I didn't kill her."

"Oh?" Dr. Anders said casually, "Do you wish you had?"

I didn't expect this question, to tell the truth.

"Uh..." I said, thinking about it, "No, I don't."

Dr. Anders nodded and listened as I explained, "She tried to poison me, she's a bitch, but..."

"But?" Dr. Anders asked calmly. So calm... I wanted to punch her, but I didn't.

Go ahead, Phil, punch her.

"I don't know." I said, "I just don't know."

Dr. Anders and said, "That's a good sign."

"What is?" I said.

"That you don't wish you had killed the woman you threw against the wall." Dr. Anders said. 

I thought I saw the smallest flicker of a smile cross her lips, but it was hard to tell.

I scowled at her. I didn't know why, I just needed someone to blame my angst on.

Dr. Anders leaned forward and said, "Why don't you tell me more?"

I glared at her and said, "I don't have to tell you nothing."

Dr. Anders said, "That's true, but if you do, than it will be easier to help you."

"For me or you?" I said back, feeling angry all over again. That selfish little....

Dr. Anders sat back and said, "For both of us."

I thought this over and sighed, "Well, sometimes.... Sometimes I just feel like... Like I need someone... No, not what you think. Not someone to love, not someone to go on walks with... Someone to..."

I looked at Dr. Anders and said, dead serious, "Someone to hurt."

Dr. Anders nodded and listened.

"Someone... To feel the pain I go through." I explained, "Someone who has it as bad as I do. Someone who's life I can ruin so they can know how I feel."

I leaned in closer and said, "But not just know how I feel, but have to live with it, just like I do."

Dr. Anders nodded again and said, "Alright, thank you."

"For what?" I asked.

"For cooperating." Dr. Anders said, standing up, "Come on, time to meet the others."

"Other people?" I said, narrowing my eyes, "There are other people here?"

Dr. Anders nodded, "Yes. They're all here for a reason, but they're not all like you. They have different reasons."

"What," I said, "Are you reading my mind and saying things to piss me off? I didn't ask if they were like me. I don't care if they're like me, but you think I do."

Dr. Anders stared at me for a minute. She looked like she was trying to keep her patience and said, "No, I'm not, Phil. Come along, we’re going to meet your housemates.”

I scowled at Dr. Anders and followed her down a long hallway, which was a sickening shade of Hospital White.

We came to a large room with tile floors and large windows. There were ten or so people sitting in chairs in a circle.

“Have a seat,” Dr. Anders gestured to an empty chair in between a pale girl with dark shoulder-length hair and a guy with light brown, extremely messy hair.

I sat down reluctantly and tried to ignore the brown-haired guy, who was sniffing me.

“Hey, guys,” Dr. Anders said, smiling warmly, “This is Phil. Can we all say hi to Phil?”

“Hi, Phil.” The group said half-heartedly.

“Can we go around and tell the group about ourselves?” Dr. Anders said, “Can we do that?”

“Why?” A guy with dark brown hair and a black hooded jacket said, “We all know each other except for this new guy.”

I shot him a chilling glare and he shot it right back.

I stood up and yelled, “Did you see that? Did you see what he did?”

I could’ve sworn I heard a girl with straight red hair said, “Oh, this guy’s the schizo, isn’t he?”

Oh, that hurt. Are you gonna let a girl push you around? You better not, Phil.

“You wanna piece of me?” I yelled at her, “I ain’t afraid to hit a girl!”

“Yeah, we know.” I knew red-haired girl said. Not in an angry way, but more in a soft sarcastic tone, “We heard all ‘bout it. You threw that old lady to a wall, didn’t you?”

I started to charge the redhead and Dr. Anders stepped in front of me.

“Phil,” She said, “Please sit down.”

I glared at her, furious, “She’s asking for it.”

Yeah, you tell her, Phil.

“I don’t care.” Dr. Anders said, “Now, please sit down, Phil.”

I shot a glare at the red-haired girl and sat down.

Dr. Anders sat down and put that stupid smile right back on her face, “Now, how about you go first, Delilah.”

The girl in the purple blouse stood up. She was gorgeous; in her late twenties, brown hair and weird eyes. At first glance, I thought they were brown, but when I looked closer, they looked more purple.

“My name is Delilah.” The girl said, smiling, “And I am a psychic.”

Are you kidding me? I thought, but then I thought, Well, I am in a psych ward. What should I have expected?

Hey there, Delilah. Well, she’s hot.

“Hi, Delilah.” The group said in a monotone.

I smiled at Delilah and she smiled weakly, like she wasn’t really interested, but she didn’t want to be rude. Of course, they were never interested.
Dr. Anders smiled and said, “Alright, thank you for going first. Oh, just so you know, if any of you are uncomfortable saying why are here, you can say something else.”

Everyone nodded and a skinny fair-haired guy, maybe in his early twenties, stood and said, “My name is Rich, a-and I really like basketball.”

The girl sitting next to me smiled at him and he smiled back nervously. What a wuss.

“Hi, Rich.” The group said in the same tone they had after Delilah introduced herself.

Next, a tall guy in his early thirties stood up and said, a bit more confident than the last guy, Rich, “Hello, my name is Malcolm and I am a baseball fan.”

Next was the red-haired girl. She was maybe in her early twenties. She stood up and swallowed. She said quietly, “Samantha. Sam for short… And Samantha… is not a people person.”

Yeah, no kidding. I thought.

I think she deserves a smack upside the head, don’t you, Phil?

“Well, yes, but I ain’t gonna do that.” I said aloud.

There was a short silence and everyone said, “Hi, Sam.”

The girl sitting next to me, probably in her late twenties, stood up and said, waving, “Hey, my name is Veronica and I can communicate with the dead. Ghosts, specifically.”

Rich smiled shyly at her and when she smiled back, he looked away. That kid was gonna drive me nuts, I knew it.

When I realized it was my turn, I stood up and said, “Hey, uh, my name is Phil and I, uh… I’m new here, obviously, so… Yeah.”

The guy with the black jacket snorted and I shot him a look.

The girl sitting next to me, Veronica, tugged on my sleeve gently and I sat down.

Veronica whispered, “Excuse me,” As she reached across me to tap the shoulder of the guy on the other side of me.

“Steven,” She whispered, “It’s your turn, Honey.”

Steven twitched his nose and nodded his head enthusiastically. What a spaz.

“H-hi, I’m Steven.” The guy said. He was a fast-talking guy, probably in his early thirties, “And I was an animal in my past life. I know I was, I just don’t know which one. I-I think I probably morphed and- you know, changed, a lot… Into different ones.”

“Which one are you today, Steven?” Rich asked, smiling gently.

That Steven guy sure is twitchy, I thought.

Steven smiled nervously at Rich and said, “T-today, I’m a rabbit.”

Rich smiled at him and I was sure they were friends.

If that Rich guy wasn’t giving the ghost whisperer girl those weird little glances, than I would’ve definitely thought he was gay. I thought. I still think he is.

I shook my head and blinked. “Shut up.”

Everyone looked and me and Steven’s lower lip quivered.

“Not you,” I said, “I-it’s nothing, really.”

Steven nodded and looked away.

The guy with the black jacket stood up and said, “My name is Peter and I… Well, I’m not really a people person either. You might just want to keep your distance.”

Everyone looked at him with an unfitting look of pity.

Peter sat down and Dr. Anders said cheerily, “That was very good, all of you! Now, Phil.”

I nodded and Dr. Anders said, “We have group therapy sessions every day at 2:00 P.M. and you will have a meeting with me on your own every day as well. You will be given a schedule for all other times.”

“Just me?” I said, “What, because I’m more screwed up than the rest of these psychos?”

A few of the others looked offended or upset and Dr. Anders said calmly, “No, Phil. You all have them.”

I kept my scowl on my face and said, “Good, okay.”

Dr. Anders cleared her throat and said, “Now, Phil. You will be sharing a room with Malcolm.”

“What?” I shouted, “I have to share a room?”
“Yes, Phil.” Dr. Anders said, turning to Malcolm.

“Is that alright, Malcolm?” She asked him, “Are you okay with that?”

Malcolm nodded and said, “O-oh, yeah, th-that’s just fine. I’ll just have to make a few arrangements and it will all be okay.”

Dr. Anders smiled and Malcolm smiled nervously.

She’s being biased, Phil. Tell her what you think.

“What, I don’t get a say in it?” I asked loudly, jumping to my feet, “You ask him if he thinks that’s okay, but you ignore me?”
Dr. Anders turned to me and said calmly, “Phil, Malcolm has been here for a lot longer than you have. We might be able to make changes later. Okay?”

I nodded and said quietly, “Fine.”

Dr. Anders said, “Malcolm, could you two please show Phil your room?”

His room, Phil.

“She meant both of ours and you know it.” I said loudly.

Dr. Anders and the group stared at me and I waved them off, “Never mind, it’s nothing.”

“Crazy,” I thought I heard Steven whisper to Veronica.

“You’re not to sane yourself, Bunny Boy.” I said.

Steven looked at me, surprised. He hung is head, looking hurt.

Veronica scooting over to the chair I was standing in front of and put a comforting hand on Steven’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Rich said loudly, taking me off guard, “Lay off.”

“What are you gonna do about it, Cry Baby?” I scoffed harshly.

Rich looked taken aback and Veronica said, “Well, you sure are good with first impressions.”

“Why are you so nosy?” I said, “Why don’t you take care of yourself rather than others for a change?”

“Why are you such an ass?” Veronica shot back, “Why do you hate everybody?”

“Hey, hey, calm down.” Dr. Anders said, backing me away from Veronica and Steven, toward the center of the little circle of people, “All of you, please. Let’s not be hasty. How about we all get some rest. It’s late.”

“What?” I said, “But… It’s eight P.M.”

“Yeah,” Delilah said, “We always go to our rooms at eight.”

Dr. Anders clasped her hands together and said, “Yes, that is how it is around here. Malcolm, could you please show Phil to the room that you will share?”

I silently waited for it to come back. For it to come and tell me to tell her off, but it didn’t. It kept its damn mouth shut this time.

Malcolm nodded and stood up. He gestured for me to follow him and I did.

“Can everyone say goodnight to Phil?” Dr. Anders said sweetly.
“Goodnight, Phil.” There came a chorus of voices from the group.

As I left the main room with Malcolm, the last thing I saw was Steven’s hurt little face boring a hole into me. He looked like a little kid, or like a little lost animal. Oh, the irony.

I suddenly felt bad, but what for? 


I had forgotten what I had done.