Personal Narrative-Assisted Suicide

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I awoke to crying and screaming coming from down the hall, the girls in the beds beside me still sound asleep, not even a train horn could wake them up. I was shivering under the crisp burlap sacks they called blankets. My head was pounding, and my eyes squinted to adjust for the lack of light in the room. A sweet older woman approached me, I was still half asleep so she didn’t bother introducing herself, I felt the sting of a needle piercing into my veins, I jumped up and she called in the guards. This was not how I imagined spending my senior year in high school. I wasn’t sure exactly what place I was in, but I knew it meant I had fallen into the trap of something way bigger than me. It was a clear winter morning, 7 AM sharp. My alarm buzzed…show more content…
I was heavily sedated from the moment I was placed in a bed for fear that’d I would keep harming myself or others near me, although I already had. I was poked and prodded by nurses, spoke to various indifferent men in white coats asking me the same questions over and over, “Have you been suicidal before?” “Did you take any drugs this morning?” “What triggered you to want to end your life today?” It was there in the ER that I first heard the word suicidal. I’d never considered myself to be to that point, I was too blind to notice that something evil had begun to consume me, something I couldn’t even see. At 8 pm a nurse came in to tell my mom I would be transferred to a facility that was “better equipped to handle girls in my situation”, she adjusted my iv, checked my vitals and went on about her day, seemingly uninterested in “my situation”. I guess she’d seen it all before. Eventually my family came to say their goodbyes, I didn’t fully understand why I was being moved or even where I was being moved too, it seemed like no one wanted to give me any information about what “my situation” even was. It was 2 AM when I nodded off for what seemed like 5 minutes and I awoke to a full transport team, loading me on a gurney and taking me into the back of an ambulance, my mom kissed my forehead, she was trying really hard not to cry, not to show that she was scared. It was the last time I’d see her for 14 days. When I arrived, I saw a sign that read Police and Ambulance entrance, I was unloaded off the gurney and for the first time in 10 hours I was allowed to stand on my own. The sign outside the glass door read “Dominion Hospital”, as I walked inside I immediately started shivering, the walls were a dingy sand color, with spots of missing wallpaper. After a grueling admissions process I was walked to my room and told to go to sleep. It was my first night in a full blown psych ward. The

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