• The virtue of prose guides our harmonious composure.

“We are going to the hospital” said Evan in his forceful tone, shaking me to the bones.

“Okay…” I replied as I nodded with dimmed eyes. Deep breath exhaled. I don’t think there are air left inside my lungs.


          I am torn with his one-sided decision made entirely for my health. No hospital, yes hospital. I do not know. My mind is a shattered temple, a lost cause. My heart is racing for reasons that I cannot explain. Love? Anger? Anxious? Nervous? Everything inside shambles.

          Along our journey to hospital in Evan’s yellow car, cruising through the street of Petaling Jaya, I looked out the window. Blue skies serve as an umbrella to all humanity living in this area whilst the birds are freely flying like angels bestowing our eyesight with their beautiful existence. What a beautiful day!

“What are you doing?! Stop injuring yourself!” Evan shouted. His right hand firmly holds the steering wheel while his left hand binds both of my hands.

          I looked down on my arms. Scratches, bloods, and wounds inflicted upon me by myself. It is dreadful to know how a tablet of sleeping pills can cause so much blood. Well, it’s not like I can feel pain physically, why do you care, Evan? Let us just go to the hospital, take necessary medicine, and pretend it never happened.

          As we walked through the corridor of AVISENA Specialist Hospital, my fair skin turns bluish. Anxious, as I have never experienced my mental health to be examined. What am I supposed to say? Should I tell the doctor everything? What if the doctor judged me? What if? What if? What if?

          “You are diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder and Psychosis. You must be admitted immediately. I will give you a referral letter to Universiti Malaya Medical Centre for your admittance tonight” said Professor Daim in his calming voice. Calm? Not registered in my dictionary.

          By dawn, I am already on a wheelchair heading to the psychiatric ward. The path to the ward is long and gloomy with bleak corridor lights accompanying a nurse and me. Evan had to leave as no guardians are allowed in the psychiatric ward. Obviously, with all my belongings. No smartphone, no camera, no sharp objects, and no make-ups.The nurse allows me to hold only a pouch full of coins to communicate with external world using a public payphone.

“Will you come?” I asked whilst wiggling the braided cable of the payphone.

“Yes, my dear. After I am done with my job” Evan replied from the other side of the line. A smile unwillingly crafted upon hearing his response.

       I know that he is working overtime to pay the medical bills. He will stop driving for Grab at 3 p.m. just to visit his beloved queen, me. He would spend the whole 2 hours of visiting hours with me, talking, and comforting me in every way possible. Colouring books, riddles, and novels are some of Evan’s way to provide his company without his presence. I feel his existence, I feel his warmth, I feel his existence.

          I hated him before. He caused me so much pain, mentally and emotionally. But he keeps coming back to me. Just as much as I pushed him over, he will pull me back in his warmth embrace. I hate that I am falling back to this douchebag but the longing feeling to be loved blanketed my anger that I had for him. Now, the Placebo Effect has taken place and I can only love him more.  

          My neighbours are all interesting people. A sixteen-year-old girl who constantly says her husband will pick her up. Sixteen years old? Married? Why are you here if you are married? Turns out she was never married. An accountant who constantly claims Evan looked like an Italian guy? An old lady that will hysterically scream “Button one! Button two!” whenever she sees a button? People are never more interesting. Nevertheless, they are all I have during my stay here at UMMC Psychiatric Ward.

          Seven days have passed since I first slept here. “Ward” was only a literal word to tell the world that we are sick, and we can be cured. Honestly, it feels like prison in here with those bars installed on the windows. But what can I complain? I became fond of this place. The people, the environment, the single couch that I spent the most time on. I love this place. However, I could not even make it through the grim pathway without the love and care from that douchebag, Evan.

 

-The End-

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Muhammad Irfan bin Nor Rahan

A flexible writer that can write not only narratives, but also academic and technical paper

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