Santa Maria Cottage Welcomes You

Everything's so white. The walls. The tiles. This jacket! Why is everything so white?!

Jacob sat in the cold, dank room, hugging himself as he rocked back and forth, leaning against the wall. The jacket he was wearing, more like restrained in, held his arms securely against his body, and wrapped behind his back so there was nowhere for his arms to go. He kept whispering to himself, "Why? Why am I here? Why did they bring me here? I'm a good kid. I didn't hurt anyone. Why?" It was his first week here, at the Santa Maria Cottage, and no it wasn't a nice cozy little cottage out in the woods where grandma bakes cookies and gives them out the village kids who come in and sit by the fire. It was NOTHING remotely close to that. Santa Maria Cottage; home to the local psychos, schizo's, cutters, possessed, downers, manic depressed, sociopaths, the whole shebang. For Jacob, this was now home. Definitely not a home that he wanted, but he would soon realize it was the only place he had.

It had been a little over a year since Jacob was admitted to this hellhole. He was slowly adjusting to the place. It wasn't your average psych ward that you read about in books, or see in the movies. No visitors, no phone calls, no letters, no contact with the outside world whatsoever. The only contact the 'inmates' had were staff members, the walls and the other cell mates, and even that was rare. The reason he called them 'inmates', like a prison, was because the Cottage, was just that. It was one giant mind-fuck. The name was cutesy and gave off an air of peace, the place itself gave you that feeling that this was the place that people with problems come to get the help they need, while in actuality, the place was like fucking Auschwitz! One wrong move and you would either be strapped down to a chair or a gurney while the nurses played doctor and stuck needles in you, connected to a high voltage box and turned the dial to 1000 just to fuck with you and give themselves a good laugh.

Year Two. The place was getting too unbearable. There was no one to talk to. All the inmates were either too fucked up to be let out of their cells to wander around even for just a few minutes or too depressed, sitting in a corner staring at the clock, or the wall, or the window, or the ceiling, or the floor, hugging themselves. There were also some of the crazies who would sit as far away from anyone as they possibly could, somewhere away from as much light as possible, eyes open wide, watching every little movement everyone made, and if someone, or something unseen to everybody else, got too close, they would run, screeching as if someone just branded them with a hot iron, flailing their arms like spaghetti, hitting a wall when turning a corner every here and there. At least it was a form of entertainment, though cruel and small it may be, but hey, a guy's gotta find some kind of hobby while in here.

Year Three. Something interesting finally happened today. Some new kid got admitted today, and low and behold, he's actually one of the more normal people we got shacked up in here. Hey, I'll most likely see him out in the mess hall during our so wonderful lunch breaks where we are actually allowed reassurance that there are people outside the four fucking walls that have become our nearest and dearest friends. So the new guy's name is Anthony. I wonder how much he'll last here until he goes crazy and the drugs make him hallucinate and see things. Yeah I said it. The drugs here don't fucking help; they just make you more crazy so the doctors have a reason to keep you here. It's like a jail man! The people here are sick and twisted in the head. If anyone needs the treatment, it's them! They're pumping us with all sorts of drugs, with who knows what kind of crazy amount of doses that leave us all jacked up and seeing shit. If I could get my hands on one of those needles, I'd shove in my doctor's neck. I'd love to see Dr. Deguzmen have a taste of his own medicine; see what it's like to be all drugged up and seeing crazy shit. Let's see how it feels to wrapped up in a straight-jacket for a full week, you fucking bastard!

So today I found out that that Anthony kid punched Dr. D in the nose. I'm really beginning to like this kid.Oh, and I also found out that he's got the cell next to mine. Isn't this my lucky day. Now I don't have to maintain my pledge of being mute for the rest of my stay here at Santa Maria Cottage. God, how I hate the name to this place. So just to clear things up, I'm stuck in the Isolation unit, where I don't get to see or talk to anyone for twenty two hours a day. The other two hours are spend talking with the doctors and therapists; a lot of good they did us. How do I know about the other inmates and crazies that I mentioned previously? Because I would see them, briefly, on my way to the doctor's office. But now I had someone else to talk to during my days spent confined in a room full of NOTHING. At least the builders of the place were nice enough to put in vents that would let us communicate otherwise I would forget what it was like to speak.

It's almost the end of year 4, and I have officially crossed the hedge. I'm crazy; there's no denying it. They have put me in this rubber room, where everything is white. Odd enough, this place looks familiar. I can't put my finger on it, but I feel like I've been in this room before. Either I'm hallucinating and conjuring up memories to make myself feel better (or make my point that I have officially entered crazyville) or that this is some repressed memory that doesn't want to resurface. In any case, I know this room, I just don't know how.

I don't know what day it is anymore. I don't even know what time of day it is; morning, afternoon, night. Hell, I don't know anything anymore other than if I don't see something besides these white walls sometime soon I'm gonna go really overboard.

Sometime a little after sometime soon.
THE FUCKING WALLS!!! I CANT TAKE THE WHITE WALLS ANYMORE! And that stupid guard that sits outside my cell, watching, waiting; waiting for an excuse to lock me up in a more secure place, an excuse to beat the crap out of me with his baton, an excuse for anything! He's got to be disposed of. No! I have a better idea. I can use him as bait. That's it, I can use him to get to the doctor's office, have a sharp object at his throat, threaten to cut up his jugular if the doctor doesn't do what I tell him to do. I like this plan already. Now I all I need is a weapon. Hehe, let's see if the douche-bag guard can be of use before I make him crap his pants.

Wow, he actually did it. The idiot gave me a pen and let me use the bathroom. What a fucking moron! HAH! Let's see who'll be the one smirking at the end of this little battle dickhead. This is my chance, my only chance. I have one shot at this. Once I open the bathroom door to be led back to my prison, I have to be quick and bring the pen around to his neck and squeeze. Of course, I don't want to kill him, just yet, because I need him as leverage. If the nice doctor wants to save this man's nasty hide, he has to listen to me. Alright Jacob, it's show time.

"What the?!"

Don't move, or scream, or call for backup. Do you understand me? I don't care if it means going back to that cell and back into that jacket, or worse, if I kill you, but I will enjoy it so don't press your luck. Lead me to the doctor's office if you want to stay alive. I'm sure the good doctor will be so kinda as to protect you from the crazed lunatic that has become me due to his incessant drug pumping and greed for money and power.

Gulps. "Okay. Okay. Just don't kill me. Please. We're heading to the office now."
Good man. Now don't make it look obvious that you're scared shit-less of me, otherwise the rest of the staff will know something's not right. Put on your big boy, guard face and let's go. Good.

"What is the meaning of this?! Jacob! Why are you holding a sharp pen to the guards neck?! Better yet, where the hell did you get a pen and how did you sharpen it?!"

I wouldn't raise my voice, ask questions about where I got things from or how I did what I did, or anything to piss me off any more than I already am and throw me overboard. If you want to save your precious guard, whose sanity means more to you than your patient's, then do what I say.

"Alright. Okay. What do you want me to do Jacob?"

I want you to call my mother. I want you to tell her that it was a mistake having someone bring me here and having me committed. To tell her that I don't belong here with all the crazy people. That I am totally fine, I'm cured, I'm saved, whatever the fuck you want to call it. Just tell her to come get me out of here! Otherwise, precious Mr. Guard ends his life right here, right now.

"Jacob. I don't know of any way to tell you this without making you angrier or more irrational. But I will tell you because it is what you want? Will you at least let the guard go before I tell you? Please? I want nothing but everyone's safety. If you hurt the guard than I will have to call for security, and the police, to detain in any means necessary to keep you from hurting anyone else, and I don't want to have to do that. So, can you please let him go? Or at least, put the pen down?"

How do I know you wont automatically try and sick the other guards on me, pump so much with drugs that I pass out and find myself in that rubber room again, without you having done what I came here for?

"Jacob, I promise you that I will tell you what you want to know and do what you wish for me to do, if it is within my power."

Fine. Whatever. It can't get any worse than it already is.

"Thank you. Now, I really don't know how to tell you, but your mother...she's been dead for quite some time now. I know it's not something you want to hear, especially in the state you are in, but I told you I would tell you, and I have, even though it pains me to do so. Jacob...Jacob! Jacob calm down!!! Get off the orderly! Let her go! She hasn't done anything to hurt you! SECURITY!!! SECURITY!!! HELP!!!"

She's dead. How can she be dead? HOW!? Mom...why? Why did you have to leave? You fuckin bitch! You've always been selfish! You just had to die and rest in peace while your son is rotting away in a prison! A place he has no right to be in! You don't care about me at all do you! You never have! WHY?!!! What did I ever do to make you not want me?! What did I do?!! Mommy!!!!!!!!!!!!

My last day. Today is my last day. I'm finally clocking out of this place. I'm finally going to be free. All the shit that's happened, all the shit I've been through, all the drugs they've pumped into me, it's all come to an end. I have to admit though there have been some good moments, and odd enough, they've all included that Anthony kid. He kept me a little sane while we roomed next door to one another. Our daily conversations through the vents, the satisfied look on his face when I attacked that guard...good times. But now I'm finally leaving. I hope he's doing good; at least one of us normal people deserve a happy ending. My happy ending starts today. Mom, I'm sorry I yelled at you and called you a selfish bitch. I was hurt and angry at the time, but I know you loved me, and that you still do. Don't worry though mom, I'll see you in a bit. Your little boy is coming home.

In memory of Jacob Gaurdado. Born 1987, died 2003.
May you rest in peace.