Truth and Lies: Red Summit Medical Hospital

 Truth and Lies: Red Summit Medical Hospital

Gracey is admitted to a hospital for an unusual disorder. Her parents signed the paperwork for admittance. The hospital has been known as a confusing place. Gracey is taken into a world of lies and used in ways they would never have learned to be possible.  

 

                                                           

The cement gave the hospital a look of death. The modern colors made me want to run. Hardly any color on the walls. Art danced in various forms in the courtyard. The hospital differed from your typical one: courtyards, exercise, and therapy-centered rooms. Four wings in the hospital go in different directions and lead to other levels. My parents shook their heads in disbelief. Two men in white coats held my arms. The room wasn’t a waiting room, more like a trial room before the big court show. I hummed to myself to keep myself calm. No escape is possible. My parents signed the paperwork, and the assistant doctor had set the alarm on the main door. I had done nothing wrong legally and had been taken off my medication several years prior. My thoughts returned to the present as two men in white coats started to talk to one another. My parents chimed in. 

The doctor with the bald head tapped his pencil and stated, “It looks like Gracey St James is going to be held and looked after. Her character is not in line with standard charts. Her deceit is dangerous; she is dangerous. “

I rolled my eyes and scanned his coat. His tag stated Dr. Sims. I wanted to punch him, but the two guards kept me in place. The two other doctor's tags were visible. DR. Luanna and DR. Rick. Both looked miserable and unpleasant to be around. Their bodies are thin, like uncooked noodles. Their Hair was messy, and they looked like unpleasant people. 

My parents leaned in towards me and said,” it’s for the best, honey; your lies are becoming more severe. “The doctors will help,” said my parents in a loveable voice. 

I felt like a prisoner. No hope on the horizon. No true answers. My parents had given up on me. I followed the two men into the hallway; my parents had already left the main room. I scanned the hallway and walked down. The hospital's name is painted on the wall. Like something out of an art magazine. Red Summit Medical Hospital. The hospital had been in operation since I could remember. However, few knew of it because it is located off the main highways and interstates. I knew something wasn't right but couldn't put my finger on it. 

The doctors put me into a fake-looking recovery room: the same dull colors and random placement of encouragement sayings on the walls. The guards handed me an info pamphlet on the hospital's rules. Both men looked at me with beady rat eyes. They looked like creeps. Like rats from the sewer, they were returning to the sewer where they belonged. 

                                                                       

The pamphlet contained rules and protocols about the hospital to keep us, the patients, safe. The next few days turned into weeks. I was stuck here. I started to participate in the activities they wanted us to do. The exercises consisted of army-like activities. I was running, pushups, situps, and having us push ourselves to the highest point possible. On Monday afternoon, the rat-men returned and took me to a room off one of the wings. Electric shock therapy was used to “fix” my problem. The shock sent me somewhere mentally; I was in a fog. My emotions ran wild. I had no control over my body. I puked on the floor. Unable to stop the shaking, I let my body tremble. In and out of conciseness, I couldn't take my emotions and use them. I was then wheeled back to my room; I slept the rest of the day. I was exhausted. I didn't completely understand why I was being used in a medical experiment. However, the hospital wasn't the only one with secrets. 

The next day consisted of blood draws and medication—a medication I had never seen or heard of before. I rested and was able to watch some tv. The few channels showed boring news reports or animals dying in the wild. It felt like forever until I could join others on the same floor. I knew what my faults were, and they weren't pretty. My compulsive lying has always been a problem, and I have been treated for it. But with no success, that was why my parents brought me here to the hospital. My other severe diagnosis was my anger, not just the typical anger you see with other people. My anger causes me to throw people through drywall and causes me to break solid objects into two pieces. That is why I am dangerous. Compulsive lying is nothing compared to my anger. 

The other people on the floor were odd. Not like weird odd, but there was something that needed to be corrected with them. I sat next to a garden, of course, behind protective glass. I gazed over at a guy eating some chips. The guy looked up at me as I awkwardly gazed in his direction. The garden seemed less important now. His two arms were on the table, holding a book he was glancing at. Out of nowhere, a third arm came and grabbed the chips. I thought I saw things from the shock therapy, but I knew better. I am here for my compulsive lying and extreme anger. I had my problems but nothing like what I saw before my eyes. The reality and the truth of this hospital were starting to show themselves. 

We both just stared at each other. I didn't know how to react. I felt like I was maing the situation worse. How did he have a third arm? The awkward silence didn't last long as he got up and walked toward another hospital wing. 

    

                            

 After that, I didn't see much of the guy with the three arms, only glimpses of him on the way to the Chow hall. After a few minutes of eating lunch, I sat with a girl one afternoon. Her name is Carol. Her skin was white as snow. Albino would be the correct term. Her eyes were red, and her hair was white as well. We talked about the weather and the dry food being served. We avoided the oblivious topic of why we were here. However, the issue came up of why we were here. My stomach flipped. My hands are clammy. Carol started first with her story.

 "I was born this way. I didn't stay living with my parents. By age 6, I was in Foster care, and by age 8, I was admitted to this place. I have lived here and tried living in general society. People are scared of me. For different reasons I have been taken to various specialists and treated horribly by the general population. I almost prefer to stay in this hospital where others like me don't have to deal with the outside world. "

 I told Carol about my story and how I ended up here being an obsessive-compulsive liar and having a terrible anger management issue. My parents got tired of trying to take care of me while I was under the emotional strength of anger. I mostly lied about everything, making it hard to dictate what was true and which was not. She was puzzled as well as whether to believe me and I understood where she was coming from. Nothing I could say or do could level out what was true.

 The lunch room's white walls were eerie, yet shadows played on the wall from the trees outside the windows. Crumbs littered the floor, but a janitor came by, sweeping up what remained of a long afternoon lunch session. Oddly placed vases and décor were scattered around the lunch room, and looked poorly decorated. Outdated and cold.  

 As she spoke to me, other people walked by and went to grab their lunches, and other people stopped and stared while others snickered, and sometimes weird laughs would be heard down the hall, unsure if they were coming from staff or clients. Oddly enough, I was kind of uncertain of my environment. Everybody here had severe issues, while the albino girl didn't seem to be as much of a problem as some. As I scanned the lunch room, several other people with issues appeared. Other albinos, people with twisted faces, monkey-like features, flexible limbs, oversized feet, large eyes, skin problems, extra limbs, people with severe Tourette's, different chromosomes, and people with mental disabilities or people like me. Who looked normal but held secrets. 

                                

Weeks turned into months, and months into longer than I wanted. The hospital became my home . The other patients became my friends. I felt normal in a weird way . My friends, which I kept close to, were Carol, Oscar, and Andy. Carol with albinism, beside her condition, she is a lovely girl to be around. The gut I saw at the beginning of my stay was Andy. He had the third arm. He is a guy who you can trust. Solid and trustworthy. Oscar is the friend that doesn't say much, just nods and sighs, a man of few words. We all got to know each other and started hanging out as much as possible. The hospital walls were starting to ware on me. Carol and I started to scheme. Osca and Andy followed the idea. The idea of escaping and going somewhere besides the hospital walls intrigues me. We knew the schedule of the staff and doctors. However, when they came and went, there were cameras in certain parts of the wings. The chance of escaping is small and low.

The days dragged on and we continued with our treatment. I wouldnt consider it effective treatment. The treatment wasn’t always done in our favor. It was more like tests or trial and error. The doctors and nurses seemed puzzled by some of the conditions. There were rumors that doctors and nurses were leaving the hospital withothout any prior warning. The lack of staff of staff didnt bother me. It was more of what will they do with me and the other? Will we be shipped off to somewhere else. Hospitals like this arent publisiced. The frightening thought creaked in my thoughts. How many others were up for transfer? I knew the population of the hospital was around 100 or so. But with the lack of idmissions the number could of been lower.  

The sudden loss of several patients had my stomach doing summersaults. One patient was dragged down the hall leading to a garage-like structure. The medical assistants didn’t seem bothered by the patient's screams and snake-like movements. He was trying to escape the hands of evil. My friends and I didn't hear more about this patient. My friends and I discussed the possibilities. We knew that the patient was able to move like a snake. His muscles were flexible, and his chance of espace was more likely. However, his room number was replaced with a different number, and his room was occupied by the next day. Wherever he went, I hope he was alive. 

Carol’s condition didn’t stop her from being one of the favorites in the hospital. She always seemed upbeat regarldess of where she was. She has been here the longest. Nothing seemed to upset her. On a warm August day several doctors scurried around the floor and ran into the staff office. Papers were flying and a low hum buzzer went off. Patients looked confused. Andy, Carol looked at me with alarm. This was out of the ordinary for sure. I didnt want to run to my room, maybe this chaos would lead to something? 

And hour later several more doctors had entered the day room and had gathered some “normal” looking patients. We werent being told anything. Chaos continued to eerupt. Papers scattered on the floor, some doors reamined open to staff rooms, and the low buzz of a alarm ket sounding. Before I could gather my thoughts several staff and doctors escorted us quickly to a waiting van outside the side doors. Several garage doors were open, which was unusual. Two motorcycles waited on the van belong loaded with patients. I could see Carol and Andy being ushered into the van like cattle. Was there 12 of us or more or less. 

Before I could gather my surroundings, the van door was shut. A freaked out staff member sat in the drivers seat. He looked sick to his stomach. He put the van in drive and left the hospital. I looked out the window. The hospital seemed to be burning. Were they burning evidence? What was going on. Before I could ask another patient, a strong odor took over the insdie of the van. My lungs burned and I passed out slowly. The van continued down a unmatined road. The hospital in the review mirror. Burning quickly, destroying any evidence and any proof of us. 

                   Two years after 

I sat in front of my regular doctor. He looked at me with concern and confusion. Everything he knew about me what a mystery. He didn't know what to believe. It turns out im a good liar, and you can't believe a word I say. I told my doctor a story so a place like Red Summit Medica hospital could exist someday. He overlooked my file and stated, 

“there is more to your story isnt there/” 

I sat back and glared, “you know there is, why ask.”