Psych Ward Stories Novels & Stories

If you didn’t know and was caught inside, the security would escort you out. Lara When I got back to the lab, the craziness calmed down. My co-workers are just mingling in the halls outside of the lab waiting to draw or the time to pass. Really, overnight shift is boring and it’s the easiest shift ever. As I was walking up, I could hear them laughing and joking around. “Hey, Lara, did you hear what happened,” someone asked me, I didn’t recognize the voice. “No, but do tell,” I responded mischievously with a smile on my face. My eyes scanned the group and fell on Shan. “Well, let’s start off with, one of the psych ward patients went walking around the hospital with a broken IV pole,” M

They wouldn’t understand anyway. They spun the chair around and pushed me down the corridor like I was luggage. Patients stared. Whispers followed. “Isn’t he that shooting victim?” “ Yes, that's him.” “He attacked the doctor” “Crazy..” The word made me smirk. “Crazy?” I raised an eyebrow. If they only knew I'm worst than that. They shoved open a heavy metal door at the end of the ward. Psychiatric holding. So that’s what they thought of me now. One guard muttered, “In here.”

He inquired trying to take in the environment, looking around until his eyes finally fell over the small bed to his left and the boy lying on it, a set of tired-looking eyes scanning his perplexed face. "Win James, Win James," He offered before adding nonchalantly, "And this, my friend, is a hospital. Psychiatric ward, to be specific." that Win Hong guy added, an amused smile on his lips. "It's been a while since I've had a roommate. Hopefully you're not a dick." He spat out casually, the indifference in his voice giving out his familiarity with the place.

They seized the glass she'd just used to bring me milk. The tests told the rest. It was a psychiatric drug, one with devastating side effects. Susan had been dosing me for years—just a little at a time. However, it piled up until I turned irritable, brooding, and impossible to be around. Still, she swore no one had told her to do it, saying it was her idea alone. Hilda only faltered for a heartbeat before steadying herself, as if she'd always known Susan would never betray her. When the police led Susan away, Mom clung to me, her sobs tearing out of her chest. "Val, I'm so sorry. I let you suffer.

When I'd listen to her, I'd forget all about my tragic life. I've gotten used to continuously asking people questions to not leave room for them to ask me. Not even just since getting admitted but before then still. It was something I'd been unconsciously doing for a while. But like I said, I'm in a good mood today so, "What do you want to know Mary?" I ask her after a while. "How about you start by how you ended up here?" Mary and I are in a psychiatric ward where we're being watched 24/7. We don't talk about it but we know why the other is there. Our ward has a total of 5 people, three of which are still unconscious.

After all, not every epiphany deserves forgiveness, right? Then one day, I caught something on TV that sent chills down my spine. The mental hospital I was in was in the news: a scandal broke out. Staff were arrested for a laundry list of horrors: embezzlement, violence, severe patient abuse, and some were even accused of human experimentation, organ trafficking, and murder. The worst of them were facing the death penalty. The memories of pain I buried came flooding back. I took deep breaths, trying to steady my racing heart.

Antonio, despite his confusion, continued to follow her. The nurse took Antonio on a tour of the institution and explained everything to him along the way. They did not have to go for very long before they reached the particular room where some of their patients were being placed. The nurse stated that the patients with the most severe cases of PTSD and previous traumatic experiences were housed at the furthest corner of the facility. These patients become violent to the point where they tend to get hostile toward others or even themselves, and sometimes they even hurt themselves.

The ward felt too bright that morning. Nurses moved faster, whispering to each other, and when Naya asked what was going on, no one gave her a straight answer. She got her answer when the double doors opened. Adrian walked in, tailored as ever. His gray suit was sharp, his shoes polished enough to reflect the overhead lights. He carried his phone loosely in one hand, swinging it like he was strolling through a boardroom and not a psych ward. Naya’s stomach dropped.

I wanted to be anywhere but trapped in a hospital bed. When it happened the first time, I was diagnosed with depression. They said I needed help, so they locked me up in a psych ward. White walls, locked doors, nurses watching every move I made like I was a ticking time bomb. They took away my shoelaces, my phone, even my journal. I wasn’t allowed to be alone for too long. They thought I would try again. And they weren't wrong, they didn’t feel what I felt, the hurt, the humiliation, the voices in my head. The kind that screams louder than any voice. It was the first time and I survived because of how nervous I was, my hands were shaking too much and I passed out too soon.

I plead in near hysteria. "Calm down, Marcus; if you don't want to see him, then I won't let him in here, ok? Besides, today we are moving you to the psych ward; the doctor thinks you are well enough to start therapy" I nod, but my mind is not settled; I want to see Simon, but not like this, not when I am this broken and defeated. That evening I am moved to the psych wing of the hospital, and all I can think is that it is too white and stark. It's so depressing, but I do not have a choice; I had to be here to get better. Things in the new ward are a bit of an improvement, no more bound hands but there are no stuff lying around that I could potentially use to harm myself which is fine by me.