Thread: Lawrence-Fischer Mental Health Facility - Ward B (esielle&Crusade)

From the moment Goldie Ocasio was about eight or nine years old, her parents knew that there was something a little different about her compared to other kids her age. It wasn't that she was this odd girl-creature that had the inability to socialize, the inability to be a bright student, or the inability to grow up into a happy, healthy young woman. Quite the contrary! Growing up as a child, well into her teen years, and as she began to reach the point of gradually becoming an adult - and some would say she hadn't reached that even though she was 18 years old - she had more than enough friends. Though, to be fair, her relationships were often rocky and unstable, but somehow she managed not to drive everyone away because she did have a sweetness to her, did realize that most of the discord was produced herself. She was an okay student and that came from showing great boredom in school down to skipping classes and finding herself running with the wrong crowd. Not a crowd of criminals, mind you, but a crowd of like-minded individuals that believed school was a waste of time, so why go? No matter how many times she was called in to the Guidance Counselor and told she was such a bright young woman that, If only you just applied yourself, you could have your choice of careers and no matter how many Parent-Teacher or Parent-Teacher-Principal meetings were held on her behalf, she simply refused to be anything more than average to below average. It was frustrating for her parents to see their daughter continually make the wrong choices. They tried everything from grounding her, taking away phone privileges, sending her to work two summers at Habitat for Humanity, and even threatened, in heated arguments, to send her away. Where they intended to send her? She didn't know because it never happened. It was just a threat to try and scare her. It was the last part of the inabilities that she actually seemed to show an inability the part where she'd grow up to be happy and healthy. They noticed the big changes occurred in Goldie when she was about fourteen years old. For a span of three to four days, she would be happy as can be, active, motivated, and very creative. It was during one of those spans that she decided that maybe her parents were right, maybe she did need to start making a few decisions - good decisions, that is - and maybe she could be doing better at just about everything. It was during those spans where she made the plans to go to college and study Fashion Design, maybe move to New York City or travel to places like Italy and Paris to learn about the trends in Fashion, the way things worked in different places, and get a chance to focus on something she loved to do. But those spans of time were always quickly met by longer spans of time where she closed herself up in her room whenever she could, refused to return calls to friends, and blamed the world for everything she could along with blaming it for everything she knew she reasonably couldn't but did anyway because it made sense to her. There was always a transition period between those spans where things might be okay, might be quiet. Then something would happen - whatever the trigger was - and she would freak out so badly that twice her mother was on the verge of calling the cops and she had, at least four times, chosen to take her rage out by throwing things at both of her parents until she felt calm enough to sit and apologize profusely which always ended with her being grounded for the next month or two. Which was fine with her, of course, because by that time she wanted to be locked away in her room anyway. Her first suicide attempt was at 16 years of age. She took whatever pills she could find in the medicine cabinet, lost consciousness, but her mother came home from work very shortly after and she woke up in the hospital. She was Baker Acted, on suicide watch for the next three days before they were sure she wouldn't try it again. And she didn't at least not until a little over a year later during a particularly bad bout of depression that left her a total mess. At that point, yes, she had been on medication, but she had started to feel better and decided, on her own, to stop taking it. No one noticed anything was amiss until they found her in her room with a pool of red around her having slit her wrists. Again, she misjudged when anyone would be home and was carted off to the hospital where, again, they put her on suicide watch, reprimanded her for stopping her medication, and upped her therapy sessions from once to twice a week. Somehow or another she managed to get through high school and there were some who would say school actually helped her instead of hindered her progress. Oh sure, she was a pariah to some people because news traveled fast especially when the weird chick, crazy girl decided to try and off herself like she was in some twisted, bad rendition of the movie Heathers . That crowd that was supposedly so bad for her though? They helped a lot because they were a lot like her in many ways. Two of that crowd suffered from addiction alcohol, ketamine, and cocaine, one suffered from severe depression, and another had been in therapy since he was six because of a bunch of bad things happening to him in a short span of time. Those guys, in a way, helped her cope. Somehow she passed all her classes and got enough credits to graduate. A year later? She was still trying to figure out what she wanted to do. Go to college was hardly an option since she doubted, with her record, anyone would take a chance on her. She did get a part time job bagging groceries at the local Albertson's, but she was miserable doing it. The medications she was on for Bipolar Disorder and Anxiety were keeping some things in check, but she felt like she was continually falling at top speed with her arms flailing, her heart pounding, and any minute she'd crash into the ground. That's how she became a resident of Lawrence-Fischer Mental Health Facility, Ward B. One night after work, she decided to take a blade to her wrists again only, this time, she was living with two other girls in an apartment that didn't exactly get to her as quickly as her mother had before. In fact, by the time they found her she looked quite pale and if they hadn't of called for an ambulance when they did she would have been pretty successful because she did an awfully good job at needing numerous stitches after that. When her parents were called, they made a decision on the way to the hospital that enough was enough. Something had to be done about Goldie or else she really was going to end up hurting herself. They tried not to blame themselves. Goldie had been treated great growing up, nothing bad had actually happened in her environment. She just had a disease that they couldn't fix and that was going to end up killing her if they couldn't come to a decision. It was as she was in the hospital that they contacted a lawyer to discuss what their options would be to get her help. His answer was to request court mandated Civil Commitment inpatient whereby a judge could look over the presented case and, if Goldie met the criteria, she'd be ordered to be admitted into the Mental Healthy Facility for long term treatment until she showed signs of progress, signs of being able to function in the outside world. Needless to say, when she found out her parents were going over her head on this, she had another outburst right there in the hospital where she ripped the IV from her arm and tried to leave. She fought the best that she could in court to show the judge that she was fine as laughable as that was, but the case against her was really good and there was no way she was going to win. Somewhere deep down, Goldie knew that. On the day in question, her parents drove her to the facility with her in the backseat sulking, awfully quiet the entire time. She wasn't allowed to bring anything with her save for eight days of clothes and, even then, everything would be inspected upon her arrival to be sure she hadn't hid anything to hurt herself or others as well as checked for appropriateness. In other words, they wanted to be sure this was a neutral environment, nothing of excitement to disturb or set off any instances. Upon her arrival, she got as far as the sidewalk in front of the place before she lashed out. She was extremely angry and the rage came out in full force. It was so unexpected that, somehow, she managed a right hook to a nurse's cheek, was able to get about fifty feet down the street before her father came from behind and grabbed her, and two orderlies had to come out and help hold her while the nurse she clocked in the head sedated her. Goldie very rarely did things the easy way, always managed to make things harder on herself. She was promptly brought to her room - private, as insisted and paid for by her parents - and allowed to sleep off the sedation and rage that had fueled her. Ward B was one of three Wards in the facility based on severity. Ward A is where the patients went when they were getting better, on their way home. Ward B is a cautionary wing of the building, an in-between where you'd meet a range of people with a range of diagnoses who were going to be spending some time there. Ward C was for cases of severity severe schizophrenia not responding to treatment, those with a history of violence and criminal activity, etc. It was also a separate building behind the main facility for safety reasons, heavily guarded with a wide range of medical staff. A place, in other words, no one in Ward B was likely to go unless there really was little hope. A few hours after The Great Sedation, Goldie issued a light groan into the air and turned over on the twin-sized bed so she could open her eyes a little and stare with blurry vision at the ceiling. She couldn't, at first, recall what had happened and didn't know where she was for a good five minutes as she laid there trying to focus her eyes, doing her best to even open them. With a turn of her head toward the window, she knew that it was dark outside, but it couldn't have been more than 900 pm give or take an hour. Right beneath the window sat her bag which had clearly been okay for her to keep. She was still in the pair of jeans and t-shirt she had put on that morning though her shoes had been taken off and those horrible slipper socks had been placed on her feet which, even half dazed, caused her to wrinkle her nose. The lights in the room were dim, but still harsh as she forced herself onto her side and looked toward the door. It was closed, but she wondered if it was locked. She imagined they would have to lock it for safety reasons, right? But what time? If there had been an orientation of some sort, she effectively missed that! Very slowly, and with her head swimming a little, she hoisted herself up to sit on the edge of the bed, pressing her hands onto the mattress and holding herself like that for some time before she trusted her legs to carry her. Goldie was an attractive girl with long, blonde hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to sparkled with mischief. Her features were delicate, very appealing. She was a tiny thing, though! She stood at 5'5 and weighed about 117 pounds with soft, supple curves that could even be seen - accented quite well in the tightness of her jeans and the way her shirt hugged to her breasts - quite well under what she was wearing. First impression was that she was a little nymph plucked from the pages of some erotically charged story, a walking temptation with legs that seemed meant for wrapping and hips that seemed right for grasping. Once she was at the door, she pulled on the handle and noted that it didn't give way. With a furrow of her brows, she leaned forward against it and pressed her cheek to the cold surface. In fact, it felt freezing in there, but that was usually the case in places like this! After a few moments of just leaning there and looking like she might slide down and sleep again - only this time on the ground - she suddenly raised a hand bandaged at the wrist on both and beat hard five or six time on the door with her palm, calling out soon after, Hello? Hey! Please, somebody come to the door! Her hands raised again and, in order to get the attention she wanted right now, she hit against the surface in a way that said she was not above disturbing everyone else until someone came to see her.