Sophia: Social AnxietyMature

I got bored of trying to make a shitty label for my room so I decided to see what books they had in their meagre supply. I edged my way around the crazies and made my way over to the shelves on the other side of the room, by the sofas I hovered by the side while one of the wardens ushered a sleepy, drugged up looking patient into one of them.

It didn’t take long for the warden to get tired of dealing with the argumentative druggie and wander off. Leaving me a chance to get across to the book shelf.

“you haven’t found a way out of this fucking place yet, then?” the guy on the sofa said sleepily. I spun round to face him. My heart pounding.

“I-I....” I began to panic, my heart beating wildly as my social anxiety flared up. My palms began to get sticky with sweat and I felt slightly sick.

The guy just sat there, chilled out on the sofa what with being pumped full of tranquilizers. “wow, okay.” I could hear the slight tone of surprise in his voice. “you looked normal, but even you’re fucking nuts. Looks like it’s just gonna be me,”

I frowned and him calling me nuts,  I still felt somewhat sick but being called nuts irritated me. “I-I’m not nuts....” I hated that I still stumbled over the words but I began to feel better as I controlled my breathing. “I have social anxiety,”

I looked away as he laughed, unsure of how to react. “well that’s not enough of a reason to be locked in here.” I tried, unsuccessfully, to hide my heavily bandaged arms behind my back. I really didn’t want to talk about all of this. He noticed me moving my arms and nodded slightly “I used to have a friend who did that. He was more insane than I am. We lost count of how many times he failed at topping himself,”

I looked away, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. I really didn’t want to go over all this again, especially not with him. “They label it major Depressive Disorder,”

“They say I’ve got some kind of disorder and that it’s not my fault I’m a criminal. They think they can make me better,” he laughed at the whole idea. That’s when I realised he wasn’t in here under choice, he was one of the few who had come here under court order. “Antisocial Personality Disorder,”

“yeah that’s the one they said it was. What do you think? D’you think they can ‘cure’ me?” he put emphasis on the word cure, as if it was a stupid idea.

I shrugged. I mean, what did I know? I’d been through every treatment, scheme, five step bloody plan. Everything they could think of. Every pill they could possibly invent  every mixture they could create and yet I was still a mess.

“Reckon they’ll cure you?” he looked up at me as if it was some kind of joke.

“I’m on just about every drug known to man and have been for most of my life and I’m still here,” I shrugged again, I wasn’t going to be out of here any time soon and if i was honest these drugs and schemes were making things worse.

“I think I’m gonna escape. Like maybe tomorrow,”

I recoiled slightly. Who was he kidding? I mean what was the point? He was here under court order, surely he would just get thrown straight into prison. “And that’ll help you how?” I asked, hearing the shock in my own voice.

“I won’t be locked in here, that’s how,”

“what about your disorder?” I couldn’t understand why he was so calm about this.

“what disorder? I don’t have a disorder,” He scowled at the phrase, as if it was some sort of disease or infection. I just raised an eyebrow. “I have a criminal record and drug addictions. It’s not a disorder,”

“you do things that are in direct violation of societies policies and which would get you into trouble...” I pointed out.

“Yeah,” he kinda grinned, as if he was somehow proud of it all. Personally i got pissed with kids in class when they messed around.

“Which is the description of antisocial,” I pointed out

“anyone can be antisocial, doesn’t mean it’s a disorder or that I can’t help it,” he countered

“Is it only once every now and then or is it all the time?” I asked. I wanted him to see what was going on.

“you’re beginning to sound like my shrink,” His eyes narrowed somewhat and I shrunk back into myself. Not wanting to continue. I shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter anyway, I’m in here now and it doesn’t seem like they’re just gonna let me go to jail,”

I avoided the entire subject and went for something slightly easier. “what’s your name by the way? I don’t really want to be calling you Antisocial guy or whatever,”

“Cancer.” That seemed like an odd name to me but I didn’t want to push it any further so I just nodded.

“Sophia,” I instead responded

The End

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