What Mental Illness Does 'Girl, Interrupted' Depict?

The doctors said it was over—stage four, nothing left to fight. I had three days, max. I signed the organ donor papers myself. If I was gonna die, at least someone else could get a second shot. Told my family I was sick. But my so-called sister—the doctor—shrugged it off like I was making it up. She convinced them I was losing it, not dying. My parents and fiancé fell for it. Handed me over like she was some hero. She wasn't. She pushed me closer to the end. And when I finally died, the same people who wouldn't listen cried like they hadn't let it happen.

As the sole heiress of the illustrious Chapman family, I am born with severe sensory hypersensitivity, causing overwhelming episodes. Raised like a princess by my three fiercely protective older brothers—Adam, Beau, Claude—every detail of my life is tailored to perfection. Even the temperature of my drinking water has to be measured to the decimal. Everything changes when a new intern, Sunny Sinclair, joins Chapman Group. She calls herself Sunny the Sunshine, yet all she does is lower her head and wipe her tears whenever trouble arises. Somehow, she bewitches all three of the Chapman brothers. Before long, they start calling me difficult and spoiled, praising her instead for being humble, sensible, and easy to please. Then comes my birthday party. Sunny arrives wearing my haute couture gown and breaks the vintage pearl bracelet my late mother has left me as an heirloom. With reddened eyes, she hides behind Adam Chapman, my eldest brother, and whispers, "I didn't mean to. I just wanted to touch it." My second brother, Beau Chapman, looks at me with icy contempt and scolds me for being spoiled. My third brother, Claude Chapman, gently wipes away Sunny's tears, comforting her. I stand there in silence for three seconds. Then, my hypersensitive attack strikes. Clutching my chest, I break down on the spot, sobbing until my whole body convulses before collapsing to the floor. The three brothers who have been condemning me earlier turn deathly pale. They drop to their knees in panic, begging me to breathe. Too bad. When someone with a rare condition like mine is pushed past the limit, the consequences can be life-threatening.

After the SATs, my niece’s essay went viral online. It was titled: The Pains of Living in Someone Else’s Home. During her freshman year, my niece, Kristen, had moved in with us. Afraid that she might not settle in well, I made sure she got everything my own daughter, Gabrielle, had. I bought them all the same things. However, ten days after the SATs, Kristen’s essay went viral, and a target was painted on my back. [Why did you abuse me when my parents send you money for my living expenses every month? Why did you make me feel like vermin living in your house?] In the end, because Kristen accidentally revealed our location, I was nearly killed in a car crash perpetrated by a self-righteous netizen. Gabrielle was doxxed and bullied online. In the end, she broke down and committed suicide. Before I died, I went back in time. When I opened my eyes, I found myself back on the day of the SATs. Kristen and Gabrielle were holding hands as they walked out of the school.

After the SAT, my daughter turned into something I didn't recognize. She repeatedly stabbed her grandmother, who had raised her, until the old woman bled to death. She pushed her little brother from the tenth floor and killed him on the spot. My wife and I tried to talk her down, our voices shaking, but she only laughed. "Grandma and Caleb were too good to me. That's why they had to die! And you two worked so hard to raise me. You paid for my education and gave me everything. You were too good to me, so you have to die!" Then she set us on fire. I closed my eyes in despair. When I opened them again, I was back one week before my daughter's SAT. This time, I installed a hidden camera in her bedroom. I didn't care what it took. I was going to find out why she killed us. When my wife and I watched the footage later, neither of us could say a word.

For her age, Annalia is too skeptical and callous. She indifferently accepted the move from the metropolis to a provincial town on the shores of the open sea. And with the same indifference, she agreed to spend a couple of months in a psychoneurological sanatorium. This is how her meaningless gray days would have passed, if not for new acquaintances from neighboring houses. Having become interested in Leah, they radically change her life and saturate her with all shades of emotions. But is she able to accept all the changes?

The moment I was born, my mother implanted a chip in my brain and began shaping me into her idea of a perfect daughter. She blocked my sense of hunger so I would only have simple meals daily to maintain the "ideal" figure. She erased my ability to feel pain so she could inject me with endless chemicals to keep my skin smooth and flawless. She tampered with my senses, deleting every trace of negative emotion from my mind, all so I could remain eternally innocent. I couldn't tell right from wrong. I didn't know sadness or anger. I only knew how to smile. When the neighbor's dog died, I smiled and was scolded harshly for being heartless. When my classmates bullied me, I smiled and became the class freak. When my grandfather passed away, I smiled again, and my relatives cursed me for being soulless. Eventually, my father couldn't take it anymore. He left us. Mom, however, didn't seem to care. "They don't understand," she told me. "Everything I've done is for your own good. One day, you'll thank me." … On my 18th birthday, she planned a grand live broadcast, ready to show the world her perfect creation. She never knew that the day before her grand broadcast, I had already lost myself completely. By then, I was no longer human. I had become a machine.