“So, Sophie, do you know why you have been placed here?”
“Because I've been a bad, bad little girl.” I said sarcastically. My plan: annoy him until he gives up and leaves me alone.
“No. It's because of your behavior. Do you know what's wrong with your behavior?”
“No.”
“Sophie.” He growled. Doc has a short temper.
“Doctor.”
“Moving on,” his temple pulsed. “do you think you should be here?”
“No.”
“Sophie, you harassed and assaulted a teacher, get in fights constantly, and have attempted to kill yourself on multiple occasions. Do you think this behavior is acceptable?”
“Well, doc, that could have been the drugs. I don't know what I'm doing half the time.” It was bull, but this wasn't getting good placement anymore. It was infuriating this uppidy, loser doctor.
“You take drugs?”
“No.” I said, stretching out on the sofa. I was making him uncomfortable as well as angry.
“Sophie, you just said you didn't know what you were doing because of drugs, and then you said you weren't taking any.”
“Must have been the drugs talking.” I said.
“So you are admitting to taking drugs?”
“No! I told you already I don't talk any. Hard of hearing, much?”
He glowered at me, and moved on.
“Have you ever thought of killing yourself?”
“Yes. I would have thought of it before attempting it.”
“Okay. Now we are getting somewhere.” He said, triumphant. I was finished. Let the man think he was better than me. “Do you perform self injury?”
“All the time, baby.”
“And do you continue to perform self injury?”
“Sure.”
“Sure?” He asked, looking up from frantically writing down what I was saying.
“You're the therapist, you tell me.”
“Okay, I think we will have to continue this session another time. You will be on the lowest level, sleeping in a lone room with a constant supervisor. You will get no privileges, no rights. No clothing. You will have the hospital gown, and that's it.” He turned around, as if he had spoken my sentence and that was the end of that. Shit. I wouldn't even get the chance to find some new guys here. There was one thing I learned from my previous encounters with Institutions/Hospitals, there were always hot psycho guys.

One of the guards led me to a small room with a bare mattress and no windows. A small, flickering light illuminated my new quarters. I sat down on the bed and the man continued to stand there, watching me. At least it wasn't puke green.

Morning came, and with it, lumps of gray, unrecognizable hospital food. I picked up my spoon and picked up a lump. Bits of it's lump slime dropped off the spoon, plopping onto the tray with disgusting squelches. I lifted it up to my mouth and bravely put it in. It tasted like slugs, or what I imagined them to taste like. Jello, mixed with dirt mixed with poop. This was how I managed to stay so thin, with almost no exercise. The disgusting, inedible food. I spit it out, the blob landing on the floor. If I wasn't going to eat it...