Sapphire3619 340 Posted May 22, 2016 Popular Post Share Posted May 22, 2016 It feels like ages since I wrote anything. I have a bunch of ideas, but this semester was more draining than I anticipated. Maybe I'll get back to being excited about writing over the summer :) Anyway, here's my contribution to christening the new site layout! ****************** “Preston? Group is going to start soon. It’s time to make your way to Room C.” Preston Fletcher slowly stared up at the woman standing next to him, best slightly at the waist so her deliberately soft voice would be heard. “OK?” she encouraged, still smiling gently. “Room C is down the hall on the left.” Blinking, Preston got to his feet and started shuffling toward the required room. His face didn’t break from the expressionless mask he wore more and more often these days. “Mr. Fletcher,” Dr. Ward greeted Preston as the teen shuffled into the room. “I’m glad you could join us. Please take a seat,” Dr. Ward gestured toward an empty folding chair on his left. Preston was oddly glad for the instruction. He couldn’t seem to do anything right these days, so following directions seemed to be the safest plan. He lowered himself into the uncomfortable seat, staring blankly at some unspecific spot to the left of his knees. The remaining group attendees gradually made their way into the room and filled in the rough circle of chairs. Most seemed to be around Preston’s age – 18 – though a few could have been as young as 14 or 15. Most were fairly quiet, though a few who had apparently been there awhile chatted with each other. Preston didn’t say a word; he just kept his eyes fixed yet unfocused toward the ground. “Welcome, everyone,” Dr. Ward greeted the group. “We have a few new members I’d like to introduce: Courtney,” he gestured toward a pale girl on the right, “and Preston.” Preston twitched slightly, but didn’t raise his head. He could feel everyone looking at him. They know. Preston cringed and squeezed his eyes shut. Stop, he thought. They know you’re just stupid. You’re only here because you failed at going to college. Something millions of fucking people do with no problem all the damn time, and you couldn’t do it. Preston bit the inside of his lower lip. He wanted to make the voice stop, but arguing with it was getting harder and harder. “Let’s get started,” Dr. Ward was saying. “Who wants to talk about their week?” Kira, a tall girl sitting toward the back of the circle, raised her hand. “Well, most of you know that I had to give my statement against the guy that assaulted me this week…” See? Actual problems. Unlike yours. It’s not about problems…Preston tried to think. Is that the bullshit they feed you hear? You’re so fucking special that you don’t actually have to have anything remotely bad happen to you to have a complete meltdown? “Preston?” Dr. Ward interrupted the bitter voice in Preston’s head. “Do you want to share anything?” Preston’s mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out. Go ahead. Tell them how your parents were paying for you to go to a private college and your classes were easy and your roommate was nice and you’ve literally never had to deal with anything stressful in your entire life. I’m sure they’ll love it. Preston wrapped his arms around his torso and shook his head slightly. Dr. Ward just nodded. “That’s OK. You can contribute whenever you’re comfortable.” Sinking into his chair, Preston half-listened as another boy with an accent started describing escaping a war-torn country as a child. The voice was right; these other people had actual problems; he just hadn’t been able to bring himself to go to class. Really, the whole move to campus had been harder than Preston had anticipated. The freedom and responsibility of it all – having to choose his own food and whether or not to go to classes and who to talk to – had overwhelmed him. Little struggles had started piling up, and he became fearful. He’d managed to survive the whole first semester, but going home for winter break had only made things worse. Everyone kept asking him about college and how amazing it was, and with everyone new person that asked, he felt more like a failure for not loving every second. By the time he returned for spring semester, everything was making Preston nervous. The very idea of going to class became terrifying; he began to build his entire schedule around having as little human interaction as possible. By the second month of the semester, he was barely leaving his room. Preston’s roommate, Drew, had been both perceptive and understanding, and had called in emergency services from the mental health clinic after Preston didn’t leave the dorm for a week, only exiting his room to use the bathroom. Preston’s parents, wealthy and educated, had quickly secured him a spot at a nearby inpatient facility for psychiatric services. Hence, Preston’s current state, sitting on a metal folding chair with a dozen other teenagers with various psychopathological diagnoses, barely listening to a discussion facilitated by Dr. Ward, watched over by a couple of nurses placed around the room. The session was meant to last an hour, if Preston remembered correctly. He’d been inundated with information when he checked in – rules, schedules, locations, staff names – and it was hard for him to remember it all. It was as if everything about him was glitching and shutting down. His brain, his body, his ability to learn and speak. The simplest things were difficult and exhausting, even though he wasn’t in physical pain. He could think about something, like getting out of bed or eating meals, but his body no longer automatically followed through on such plans and desires. You’re so useless, the voice intruded on Preston’s haze. You’re doing this all to yourself. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just lazy. Preston inhaled and tried to focus on his breathing, like the initial doctor had told him. But in paying attention to his own body instead of the people around him, he noticed something worse: his bladder was filling. He still didn’t move, but Preston started to try to remember what he’d done that day. It was after 3 in the afternoon, and he couldn’t remember having visited the bathroom since his morning shower before breakfast. He hadn’t drunk that much at breakfast or lunch, but it was enough to make him need the restroom now. Oh my god. Just go, the voice demanded obnoxiously. But Preston didn’t move. People could see him. He…he couldn’t just get up and walk to the bathroom. What if that wasn’t allowed? What if they asked where he was going? He’d have to say he wanted to go to the bathroom. The other kids might laugh at him. And what if Dr. Ward thought he was lying? Just making an excuse to get out of group? Then he’d never be allowed to leave again. For fuck’s sake. This is not the end of the world. Just go. I can’t, Preston answered mentally, honestly. He couldn’t. He couldn’t move. Even if he tried to convince himself to just stand - which he did, briefly – his body wouldn’t obey. He was stuck. As the conversation continued around him, Preston felt a tiny surge in his bladder, and his sphincter reflexively tightened. The muscles of his thighs, however, didn’t budge. He wanted to look up at the clock to see how much time was left in group, but his head wouldn’t turn. His eyes didn’t even stray from the spot he’d been looking at the whole time. Are you fucking kidding me? The voice snarked. Fine. Just sit there and be miserable until the end of the session. Preston exhaled what would have been a whine if his vocal cords weren’t as unresponsive as the rest of his body. Logically, he knew his bladder wasn’t at its limit, but waiting until the end of group would mean putting in some extra effort to hold, and that just…wasn’t happening. Just sit there. It sounded simple enough, but when the bladder was full, it would empty eventually. It was practically instinct to either position your muscles to increase the hold or to get up and find a toilet. It was so ingrained that no one really knew how long between urge and voiding with no outside help. But the way things were going, Preston was about to find out. This has to be a joke. Do you want to piss yourself in front of everyone your first week? No, Preston insisted silently. No, no. Do I have to walk you through this? Are you that stupid? No…I know… You’re not acting like you know! Christ, just hold it! Push your legs together, squeeze your dick, something! Preston’s heart rate had increased, but his body wouldn’t respond to his mind’s frantic begging. I can’t, he repeated, pleading with the voice to understand. What do you mean you can’t? Literally every single semi-intelligent human being knows how to handle this situation. I know, Preston insisted. He wasn’t crying, but his mental conversation with the voice made it sound like he was. I’m trying… You’re not fucking trying! You’re not doing a damn thing! This is the most basic of all human functions, and you can’t even do that. Preston couldn’t answer, not even mentally. He was positively paralyzed. No matter how desperately he wanted to move, to do anything, he just couldn’t. Is this just what you’re going to do now? Wetting the bed wasn’t enough, you have to piss yourself in broad daylight now, to completely verify what a fucking waste of space you are? I’m not…Preston started, but he couldn’t argue. The voice was right. In the first few weeks after winter break, Preston had ended up wetting his sheets twice. The first time was…normal, almost? He’d had a nightmare and was still halfway asleep when he’d started to pee. Luckily, his roommate was already gone, so Preston had been able to drag himself out of bed and get cleaned up without anyone knowing. The second time had been much more disheartening. He’d woken up really full, but his roommate was there with his girlfriend. They were being graciously quiet, especially considering it was almost 11 in the morning, but there were there. And Preston had to pee, bad enough that he had almost instantly started holding himself. He couldn’t just get up and walk past his roommate, hand between his legs like a kindergartener. So he’d waited and hoped that they’d just leave, but they didn’t. They didn’t leave, and Preston just laid there, squeezing himself tightly and pretending to be asleep. He made no noise, not even when his bladder gave out and urine started seeping past his grip soaking his pajama bottoms. It had been another 20 minutes before his roommate left, and another 15 minutes after that before Preston had been able to work up the energy to climb out of bed and take care of his mess. It was soon after that accident that the he’d started hearing the voice in his head. And now, just a few weeks after that episode, he sat in a white-walled room, not nearly as physically desperate as he’d been that morning, but he was mentally flipping out. He felt a leak escape before his sphincter automatically clenched slightly, cutting off the flow for at least a few more seconds. I can’t believe you’re going to be this stupid. You have to want to piss yourself. No person is so fucking lazy they can’t even MOVE THEIR FUCKING LEGS TOGETHER. Preston’s breath started to pick up, the only visible sign of his struggle. He wanted nothing more than to move, but he couldn’t; he was a statue. He felt trapped in his own traitorous body. He wasn’t that desperate. This was a manageable situation, of only he could just clench his thighs, move his hand to hold on, something… But his body wouldn’t listen, and his bladder quickly overcame the slightest of barriers provided by the unconscious holding mechanism. Preston’s breath hitched momentarily as urine started trickling between his legs. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??? the voice roared. YOU ARE UTTERLY TERRIBLE!! YOU’RE ACTUAL wetting YOUR PANTS FOR NO FUCKING REASON!!! Blinking robotically, Preston tried yet again to do something to stem the flow, but yet again, not a single muscle in his body responded voluntarily. The cheap, standard material of his issued pants didn’t soak up much, and warm liquid started to pool on the metal seat. Preston could do nothing but breathe, horrified, as his accident started dripping onto the floor. Instantly, one of the nurses was by his side, and Preston was fuzzily aware of rising din in the room. “Preston?” the nurse, a young-ish man asked gently as the voice screamed in Preston’s head. YOU’RE STILL FUCKING PEEING!! WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY IS WRONG WITH YOU??? Preston gaped, but couldn’t answer. He couldn’t even move his head to look at the nurse. The only things he was currently capable of, apparently, were breathing and peeing onto his chair. Voices swirled around the room. “Oh, wow, is he wetting his pants?” “Hey, Margo, looks like you’ve got competition for biggest spaz!” “Does this mean we’re done?” This is all they’re ever going to remember about you. You’re the freak that pissed himself in his very first group session. I bet no one has ever been that worthless before. “Preston?” Now Dr. Ward was trying to get his attention. “Preston, can you hear me?” “Do you think he’s catatonic?” the nurse asked. “A reaction to his meds?” They think you’re literally fucking braindead. They think there’s no other possible explanation for an 18-year-old sitting in his own piss. It’s like you’re lobotomized or something. No…Preston tried, but his own thoughts were drowned out by the chatter of his peers, the concerned questions of the attendants, and, of course, the angry berating of the voice. “Damien, can you take him to get cleaned up? We’ll get an evaluation set up,” Dr. Ward murmured. The nurse – Damien, apparently – nodded and carefully took Preston by the arm, guiding him to his feet. Preston was mildly surprised to find out that his legs still worked. Oh, so you CAN move, as long as someone’s holding you like a damn invalid. The thin material of his pants clung to Preston’s legs as Damien walked him down the hall to the showers. He stood Preston past the first curtain of a stall, then stood back expectantly. When Preston made no move to undress himself, Damien sighed quietly. “Preston? Do you need some help?” Nothing. “OK. I’m going to help take your clothes off and clean up now, Preston, alright?” With clinically practiced hands, Damien started to pull off Preston’s cheap, gray clinic gear, delicately navigating Preston’s floppy, unresponsive limbs. Can you get any lower than this? the voice snapped. It’s bad enough that you can’t hold it for 20 damn minutes, but now you’re making this poor, underpaid staffer clean up your mess. “There you go,” Damien said, lifting Preston’s foot out of the wet pants. “Let’s get you in the shower now, OK?” The chilly water made Preston gasp audibly. “OK there, bud?” Damien smiled hesitantly. “Sorry about the temperature, I should have let it…” Damien’s voice trailed off as Preston continued to sniffle. Now you’re crying? Like this all isn’t entirely your fault? You don’t get any sympathy for not making the tiniest effort t- “What does it sound like?” Stunned that Damien’s voice was somehow able to interrupt the ranting voice in his head, Preston finally looked up, meeting the nurse’s eyes. “The voice in your head,” Damien elaborated as he continued to run a washcloth over Preston’s body. “What does it sound like?” “I-“ Preston croaked, his voice harsh from crying and general lack of use. “It’s…” “My sister said that the voice in her head sounded like our grandma,” Damien shared casually when Preston was unable to share. “She was a judgmental old bitch, but she was way harder on Fannie than she was on me. So,” he continued, seemingly oblivious to Preston’s wondrous stare, “when her depression got real bad, the voice that she heard, the one telling her how awful and useless and stupid she was, that voice sounded like Granny Jean.” Damien grabbed the handheld showerhead to rinse the soap off Preston. “I don’t know, man. I didn’t mean to babble. You just looked like someone was tryin’ to tell you something that wasn’t true, so I thought I’d ask.” Preston’s mind was reeling as Damien toweled him off. He wanted to ask more, but his voice still wasn’t working. Damien didn’t seem to mind Preston’s silence, though; he just tucked the towel around the teen’s waist and walked him back down the hallway. In his room, Preston was finally able to move on his own. Well, at least he was able to clutch the towel while Damien reached to pull out a new set of clothes. He was even able to move his arms and legs a little bit, so Damien wouldn’t have to do all the work in getting him dressed. “OK, kid,” Damien said, kneeling to slide slippers onto Preston’s feet. “I think you can stay in here for a bit, if you want, but then Dr. Ward is going to want to have a chat and maybe have Dr. Moon take some blood to see if your meds are causing some problems.” Damien stared at Preston, but Preston’s gaze was locked on the corner of his cot. Damien nodded knowingly and turned to leave. “N-nothing,” Preston rasped. Damien turned around. “What was that, Preston?” Slowly, as if in pain, Preston lifted his head to look at the nurse. “It…the voice…it doesn’t sound like anything. I don’t know. It’s just there.” His lower lip trembled; he’d never told anyone about the voice. The corner of Damien’s mouth twitched up, and he sat next to Preston on the bed. “You know it’s lying, right?” Preston glanced sideways, unsure. “Huh?” “The voice,” Damien explained. “It’s lying to you. All that shit it tells you about how you’re dumb and worthless. It’s not true.” Preston’s eyes filled with tears again. “But I…I w-wet…” Damien clapped a hand on Preston’s shoulder. “Kid, you know what the most powerful organ in the body is?” Preston shook his head. After just demonstrating the weakness of his own bladder, he really didn’t know where the nurse was going with this. “The brain,” Damien said simply. “You can’t do a damn thing if your brain isn’t on board. And just like hepatitis makes your liver not work, depression, schizophrenia, all that, makes your brain not work. So if you’re brain’s not doin’ what it’s supposed to do, then it can’t make your body do anything, even the things that are pretty easy the rest of the time.” A tear slipped from Preston’s eye. He didn’t know if he believed Damien, but he wanted to. And since Damien had started talking, the voice had stopped. Damien patted Preston’s shoulders. “I’m no therapist, kid, just speaking from what I’ve seen, from patients here and my sister.” He rose from the bed. “I’ve gotta go start preparing dinner meds. Dr. Ward should be by soon, OK?” Nodding, Preston wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. His movements still felt slow, as if he was dragging his arm through sand, but at least he was moving. And, if Damien was right, then moving meant that his brain wasn’t completely broken. And if he wasn’t completely broken, then maybe he wasn’t completely worthless after all… WaityKaty, desperatewet, thatgurogirl and 4 others 7 Quote Link to comment
bazinga 28 Posted May 22, 2016 Share Posted May 22, 2016 Oh my gosh you're back! This was soo nice to read. Would love to read more. xxxxx Quote Link to comment
WaityKaty 1,171 Posted May 22, 2016 Share Posted May 22, 2016 So sad :( But, you know, so well written. Quote Link to comment
RebelRebel 39 Posted May 24, 2016 Share Posted May 24, 2016 So well written! Glad you're back and you survived the semester (: Quote Link to comment
beenbad 3 Posted May 24, 2016 Share Posted May 24, 2016 Great story would like to read more. Quote Link to comment
Barry 1,608 Posted May 25, 2016 Share Posted May 25, 2016 That was so well written. I hope you continue with it, and thank you. Quote Link to comment
Sapphire3619 340 Posted May 26, 2016 Author Share Posted May 26, 2016 On 5/22/2016 at 5:05 AM, bazinga said: Oh my gosh you're back! This was soo nice to read. Would love to read more. xxxxx On 5/24/2016 at 10:42 PM, RebelRebel said: So well written! Glad you're back and you survived the semester (: Thank you both! It's good to be back :) I've just been building up story ideas with no time to write, so I hope to get most of them out over the summer. As always, I'm so grateful for your comments!! On 5/22/2016 at 8:56 AM, WaityKaty said: So sad :( But, you know, so well written. Thank you! Many, many things got me thinking about the topic, so I'm glad my words were able to convey the scene. On 5/24/2016 at 6:19 AM, beenbad said: Great story would like to read more. Thank you! I've enjoyed making stories out of my one-shots before, but I just have too many other ideas competing for my attention. I'll definitely be posting more, just not in this narrative. 3 hours ago, Barry said: That was so well written. I hope you continue with it, and thank you. Thanks, Barry! No plans to continue Preston's story just now, but I have others that I hope to post soon. Quote Link to comment
Fred46888 201 Posted May 26, 2016 Share Posted May 26, 2016 A well-written, perceptive story. I hope we hear more about Preston. Quote Link to comment
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