conscious play

Her eyes itched and were red from the constant rubbing. Alice wiped at her face and groaned softly. It has been so long since she’s had any sleep. The screaming was beginning again. She didn’t understand she’s been keeping up with her medication. In fact, she took double today and was too stoned to move. She loved taking double, colors became clearer and she didn’t have to feel. If she weren’t so poor, she’d do it every day. Insanity is just another reason to fuck yourself up.1

Alice turned over on her cot. *Damn these beds are squeaky*.  When she curled back into a ball, there was a heavy breathing in her ear. *God roommates are so annoying*. “Janice what the hell are you doing,” she mumbled. Opening her eyes she found Janice standing over her with an, what appeared to be, extremely sharp kitchen knife. As numb as Alice was, fear crept into her throat.  “Janice?” Alice whispered more alert now. Janice, with her black stringy hair in her eyes, covered Alice’s mouth. “You always have to bring me down don’t you?” Janice muttered bitterly. Alice began to cry. If she had anything to drink in the past 24 hours, she’d be pissing her pants. 2

“Please don’t kill me,” Alice tried to say in Janice’s hand.3

“Oh, now you’re begging me to save you? As I recall you are usually the one that begs me to take it away.”4

“What did I do?”5

“Hmmm, now give me a moment and I’ll come up with something. Okay, moment over. That didn’t take me long now did it? Do you really think I enjoy living in this hellhole? I fucking hate this place, and its all your fault that I ended up here. I hate the drugs, but I know you enjoy them. You make me hate life and myself. Remember? You dragged me into this depression in the first place. With your fucking spite you turned away what little friends I had. Give me a reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now."6

“Because, if you do, you’ll never get out of this place. Can you say straight-jacket?”7

“Shhhh, stop talking. Save your energy.”8

Alice laid, there, helpless, letting Janice run her fingers through her hair. She was beautiful, but her eyes were as dark and as dead as night.9

Janice took the knife and ran it across Alice’s wrist.   Alice looked up with fresh tears rolling down her face. Oh my god, what the hell is happening?  As Janice began new cuts on Alice, marks began to appear on Janice’s wrist. It looked like an invisible blade was running across it.10

“You see Alice, we are the same. Every cut, I feel; every pill you swallow, I’m numb for hours; and as for your rage, I often find myself breaking my hand punching something.”11

Alice could feel herself fading. Her vision was growing black, and she could no longer feel the world around her.12

Hours later a nurse with a breakfast tray nearly slipped in the blood. There was only one body to discover. Alice Janice, room 209 at Boliver Mental Institution, was the poster child of Schizos everywhere. What a tragic end to a 16 year old’s life.13