My Mother Sent Me To The Mental Asylum

After the call ended, I could barely hold the phone with my shaking hands.

“Are you done calling?”

The staff member leaned against the doorframe and asked without looking up.

“Has your guardian agreed to pick you up?”

I gaped. My voice was trembling a little.

“They said… Next month…”

“Next month?”

She smiled, “Your mandatory observation period deadline is next Wednesday.

“If no one signs you out by then, what will be waiting for you isn’t a discharge, it’ll be a surgery.”

My legs almost gave out under me.

Two caregivers already stood behind me.

“It’s time. Let’s return to your room.”

They looped their arms around mine and dragged me back.

The hallway was very long, yet it was eerily quiet.

When I passed by room 201, the door was ajar. A man sat on the edge of his bed and smiled at the wall. He kept poking his finger in the same position mid-air.

As we passed by room 203, a lady sat cross-legged on the floor. She was tracing circles on the tiles. Her fingernails were short and stubby, and a faint blood trail appeared where she traced.

When we passed by room 205, someone lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling like a dead person.

All of them had undergone that lobotomy.

“I don’t want to go back! I don’t want to do the surgery!”

I kept struggling in the opposite direction. My fingernails dug into the doorframe.

“Behave!”

One of the caregivers tugged my elbow. “If you keep resisting, I’ll have to tie you up!”

Last week, when a patient was a little agitated, he was immediately tied up.

He was tied to his bed for seven days, and he had no choice but to defecate on it. He could not even turn around on his own bed.

I bit on my lower lip as I walked without making a sound.

As we passed by the communal hall, the TV was on.

I paused in my tracks.

On the TV screen, my mother was wearing her white coat as she stood before the hospital. She was having an interview with the reporter.

“As the head of the psychiatry department, my duty is to ensure every citizen’s safety.

“Even if she’s my own daughter, as long as she displays any signs of violence, I will not protect her.

“This is where I draw my line as a show of my promise to society.”

My adoptive younger sister, Sally Anderson, stood beside her.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she said softly, “I don’t blame Clara… She’s just ill… I’ll wait for her to get better.”

I saw live comments appearing on the bottom of the screen.

[Now this is a true healer's heart.]

[Sally is such a great girl. Even though she got punched by her mentally ill older sister, she still cares about her!]

[We’re glad to have such a just and selfless doctor.]

The caregiver tugged on my elbow. “Let’s go. What are you waiting for?”

I stumbled forward as I heard the applause on TV.

After I returned to my ward, the door was locked behind me.

I curled up in the corner.

The scene from that day kept replaying in my mind.

It was my birthday. I went back home earlier as I wanted to order a cake. I had just opened the door when I heard Sally on the phone in the living room.

She had her back toward me as she spoke cheerfully.

“Victor, I know you love me the most. Don’t worry, this house will belong to me sooner or later.”

I stood silently at the entrance.

She hung up the phone and turned around. When she saw me, she was stunned for a moment before slowly walking over.

“Our parents spent so much on your education, yet you’re not doing any better than I am.”

Then, she slapped me forcefully.

“What a useless creep! Our parents will eventually disown you!”

I held my cheek as I trembled in anger. Then, I pushed her.

That was all I did.

She stumbled backward and fell onto the floor.

I was frightened. I rushed over and wanted to help her up.

Yet, she suddenly screamed, “Help me! Clara’s going to kill me!”

When my mother and my older brother, Victor Anderson, rushed in, they saw Sally lying on the floor. I was standing over her.

No one asked me anything.

That very night, I was sent to the mental asylum.

I hugged my knees as I sat on my bed. I heard the sound of carts and hospital beds wheeling in the hallway.

Another person was being sent in for a lobotomy.

Every single person that went in became extremely quiet when they came out.

They no longer cried or had any tantrums, nor would they feel pain.

When the nurses asked them to take their medicine, they would do it without making a fuss. They would sleep when they were instructed to.

However, their eyes were vacant.

They no longer knew their names, and they could not recall their family members. They did not even know which day of the week it was.

They were basically dead even though they were alive.

Next Wednesday, I would be wheeled away too.