Written By Duaa Aljalous
Inspired By The True Story of Ryan Persik
I've experienced a lot of messed up things in my life, but this is the craziest by far. It was at the start of November. 2018. Life was pretty crappy for me at that time. See, I was going through some major psychological problems. I was suicidal. More suicidal than you could believe. To make matters worse, I was only 14 years old. Yup, imagine having to deal with that at my age. I don't know how it is for others, but for me, it felt like I didn't have any emotion. I was just empty inside, numb to everything and everyone. I couldn't even cry. Really, I was just there in life, but what's the point of being anywhere if no one cares, if even you don't care? So I wanted to die.
I noticed that around that time, my parents had been acting really strange. They would whisper every time I walked out of the room. Every once in a while, I would see them steal glances at me. I didn't know what they were feeling...thinking. It all seemed jumbled up, like they were dealing and going through too much, but didn't want to show any of it. I hated it. Then, one day, my dad called me upstairs. I didn't want to go. None of this felt right. I walked up the stairs, dragging myself. They'd been planning something, but I couldn't care less. I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to be a part of their little games. But, eventually, I found myself at the top of the stairs. My dad just stood there and watched. He tried to smile. Luckily, he didn't; it would've made me feel more angry and annoyed. He pulled me into the room and started talking to me. I tuned him out, thinking, "Why do I have to listen to any of this?" Looking back, I wish I hadn't. If I'd listened, maybe I wouldn't of gotten so mad. "...psych ward." What did he just say? A psych ward? A mental hospital?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME! "NO F***IN WAY AM I GOING! WHAT AM I EVEN SUPPOSED TO DO THERE?!" I turned around and ran into my room.
I remember going crazy. I punched my hand into the mirror. The shards just stuck out from my fist, digging into my bones and skin. I didn't care to take them out and just let the blood pour out. I hurled the plate filled with the breakfast my mom had left on my dresser onto the wall as hard as I could. NO ONE CARED! I kicked my window with my bare feet, screaming at the top of my lungs. THEY JUST WANT TO GET RID OF ME!! I even managed to grab all the heavy books from the shelf near my closet and slam them hard enough over the dresser to break it in half. AHHH!! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!! While all of this was going on, my dad had been banging on the door, shouting "RYAN!! RYAN, STOP!! LET'S TALK ABOUT THIS! RYAN, PLEASE!! OPEN UP THE DOOR!! RYAN!!" Eventually, he couldn't take it and broke the door down. My dad found me on the floor surrounded in a pile of blood. I was cut and bruised everywhere and the carpet of my bedroom was drenched red. Looking down, I'd caught a glimpse of myself on the broken pieces of glass scattered around the floor. It hurt. It hurt so much! Everything that had raged inside of me came out, leaving me hollow and alone. I just laid there, more lifeless than I'd ever felt.
After that day, things were never the same. Everyday felt like torture and I became completely secluded from the entire world. WHY WOULDN'T THEY LET ME DIE! HOW WAS LIVING ANY BETTER! My head just kept repeating back the words "psych ward, psych ward, psych ward..." I remember all I would say to myself was, "He had to be kidding. He couldn't of been serious. This was a joke. He was kidding, I know it. None of this was real. None of this was real!" Of course I realized I was wrong when I saw this huge police van right outside my house. He wasn't kidding.
For five minutes I just stared at the van from my bedroom window. There were two buff cops on opposite sides of the open car door. I wanted to run. "I hate them. They're evil! It's all their fault. Why won't they just LEAVE ME ALONE!!" Angry thoughts echoed in my head, but, ironically, I didn't feel the slightest bit angry. I didn't feel anything really. The emptiness beat inside of my chest, crushing me, killing me. Before my mom and dad even had the chance to talk to me, I walked out of my bedroom, down the stairs, and out of the door. From the corner of my eyes I saw my parents talking to the driver. They were always talking and it was always about me. Always. I got into the car, closed the door behind me, and sat down in the back seat. Saying goodbye would of been pointless. As the car started and we drove off, the police officers tried to talk to me, reassure me. It's gonna be fine? Really? Then why don't I take you to a psych ward? Don't worry...it'll be fine. Ha.
Time passed. The car drove. We arrived at the hospital. I got out of the car and started shaking. This didn't seem right. No. No, this isn't right! I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!! I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!! I started hectically screaming and kicking. The officers didn't know what else to do, but to hold me down. They escorted me in to the front desk. One of them stayed with me, tightly squeezing my arm. I could tell by the expression on his face that he thought I might run, or worse, hurt myself. He was right. For some reason, I couldn't help but stare at the other cop, as he talked to the nurse behind the desk. Talking, talking, talking! Why are they always talking about ME?! Gradually getting more agitated as each second goes by, the officer finally managed to finish. He leaned in and whispered something to the officer next to me. My arm was all red around the area he'd been holding, since I'd been desperately trying to loosen his grip. Still grabbing onto me, he bent down and said, "We're going to go now. You got this. Everything's going to be all right." He was lying. I could see it in his eyes. He was lying.
Hearing those words, part of me just gave up. The nurse grabbed my wrist and said, "Come on. Follow me." Her voice was gentle, in a way. I followed her, feeling horribly hopeless. She opened up a door to this dark room. There was nothing, but these two cheap a** beds on opposite sides of the room, almost clinging to the walls, as if they were scared and afraid of all of it. Hours pass by, and it all seemed normal, but then...he came.
Thinking back to when the kid walked into the room, he didn't seem so bad, until later when I realized that his continuous fidgeting and whispering was unbelievably annoying. I couldn't even think without hearing him talking under his breath. Every time I asked him what he was saying he would look up at me with a horror-stricken expression and then immediately turn his face and start whispering again. Time passed and still he just wouldn't stop. Then, all of a sudden, he frantically laid on his bed, silently and motionless, looking up at the ceiling. I was completely caught off guard and confused, but then the nurse came in and shut the lights off, telling us that it was time to go to bed, so I decided to forget about it.
It took me some time to fall asleep. Rather, I stared at the wall, thinking "Ok, Ryan. It's only a day or two and you'll be out." Finally, I managed to calm my thoughts down and go to sleep. Before closing my eyes, I remember looking back at the kid. He looked dead and lifeless, yet his eyes were widely open, peering at the ceiling, as if he didn't know how, or somehow wasn't able to do anything but that. I was taken aback, but I didn't know what was wrong and, frankly, I didn't feel like finding out. There was something about him that scared me.
Forward to three hours. It was midnight and, like usual, I just couldn't sleep. It's not my fault. Any time I tried to fall asleep, I always felt anxious knowing that I would have to wake up again and experience the rush of emotions that just reminded me how much I hated being alive. I opened my eyes and turned my head. He hadn't moved and, despite the partial darkness, I could see him still looking at the ceiling. What was going on with this kid? Then, all of a sudden, he slowly turns his head and gazes at me. What the hell. Staring back at him, I notice a small smile creeping up on his face. I immediately spin around to the other side and face the wall. He couldn't still be looking at me, right? My body was shaking. I'd never felt this way before.
I could sense him still watching me, his eyes glued to the back of my neck. Then, he was there. He was standing right over me, as he bent his head all the way upside down, just inches from my face. His grey eyes glowed at me and his miserable smile was still there. I didn't dare to make any movements. After a minute, he opened his mouth, as the smile slowly disappeared. I could feel his breath against my skin. Then, so softly, he said, "I'm sorry." I didn't react in the slightest, completely frozen in my place. Instantly, he straightened up his head, no longer in my line of sight, but his shadow still lingered over me.
I frightenedly jump up from my bed. He's not there anymore. Wh-Where is he? Panic filled my mind. I don't understand. What's happening? I turned my head to the corner to see him sitting there, crying. "A-Are you..." No, now he was laughing maniacally. He continued to laugh louder and louder, until the boy started shrieking. It didn't sound...human. His voice was deafening. I cupped my hands over my ears, dreadfully begging for it all to end. Two nurses barged into the room and grabbed him, dragging him out of the room. "I'M DEAD!! THEY'VE STOPPED WORKING!! I'M DEEEEEAAADDDD!!!" One of the doctors watching outside walked up to me and asked if I was alright. I repeatedly nodded my head, not knowing how else to respond.
I didn't sleep the whole night, mortified. The next day came and I tried not to think about it. Life went on as usual, like nothing had happened. Other patients and I were escorted to the cafeteria. After we all finished eating, they took us to this little room to learn about coping methods for when we have the urge to self harm. We spent about an hour there, but, honestly, for most of the time, I was in my head. I don't know what I was thinking about; I just couldn't find myself able to listen. After that, we were given some "free time" to do whatever we wanted. I decided to go up to the front desk and ask how long I would be staying there? "It's protocol to keep any patient here a minimum of seven days." I had to stay here for a week...? My heart dropped. I can't handle it locked up in this place anymore. I can't stay here. Let me out! Let me out! All of a sudden, my head starts to hurt and I black out, falling on the floor.
I woke up on what looked to be a hospital bed. Seven days. Honestly, that was probably the worst news I had ever been told. The rest of the day was a blur. After hearing that I would have to stay in this hospital for a week, time felt like it was at a halt. Everyday in there was just like the last. It felt like I was living the same day over and over again. The mental hospital that I went to didn't allow phones, so it was excruciatingly boring. We were never permitted to go outside; we were just stuck in this crazy house with nothing to do, like we were criminals. Why? What did I do wrong?
The fifth day was when everything really changed. I remember walking into the cafeteria. It was quiet. I got my food and sat down. This other boy right next to the table in front of me was just standing there. We both locked eyes with each other and immediately I knew it. The unstable look, as if he was going to burst into a hundred pieces. The dried up tears that burned with loathe and anger. The faintest smirk that only said one thing: "I'm ready." He was going to kill himself. He started screaming like a madman and then rammed his head into the wall, banging and banging with not the slightest bit of anguish. The guy was banging his head so hard the walls were shaking. He was happy because it would finally end. Being so close to him, I could almost hear his skull cracking. The doctors and nurses rushed to the boy and, before he could hurt himself anymore, stuck a two-inch tranquilizing needle into his neck. It only took a few minutes for the boy to get tired and fall asleep.
I don't quite understand what happened to me, but I broke. Something inside of me just couldn't take it anymore and snapped.
I...I...I'm so afraid. I saw him dying...killing himself. They just made him fall asleep. So easily. Like it was nothing. Nothing? They're acting like all of it doesn't matter? LIKE IT'S NOT IMPORTANT. They don't care!! No one cares!! I'm suffering...I'm always suffering, but they just continue to talk. They're always talking about me? Why? Why? They're just talking. STOP TALKING!! But he said sorry. Why are you sorry? Why did you look at me like that? Please, don't hurt me! I didn't do anything wrong. What did I do? THEY WON'T LET ME DO ANYTHING. We're just trapped in here. HELP!! I can't breathe! I can't breathe! PLEASE!! They wanted this to happen. I know they did. He said it was going to be ok. He lied! LIAR!! JUST LET ME DIE!! I'll die and it'll all be better. I can finally leave this place. I don't have to see them anymore. All of them. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
...
I got what I wanted.