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They pin him down violently against the floor, his arms and legs straining, pushing and pulling as strongly as he can. The tight pajama top cuts off his circulation and the stretched fabric presses against his skin like a sharp knife.
It's not like him to have these kinds of episodes, this fight or even this explosive anger, that's what takes the head nurse by surprise. He thrashes and kicks the orderlies even while both of them hold him tightly.
The self-made wound is bleeding more and more, creating a small puddle on the floor underneath him, but the patient doesn't mind at all, just keeps trying to get up, get away from the staff grippin him.
It's been going on for too long and Mr. Breech won't calm down, so the nurse makes the call to sedate him. He gives the young man a brief warning while already moving to get the drug ready for administration.
His words were completely futile. The patient, a high risk suicidal with grave depression isn't even phased by the warning that they'll push involuntary medication.
By now the orderlies holding him down are tiring, but surprisingly, the young man seems to be getting more and more agitated. His kicks now accompanied by screams and curses. There’s no more argument for other calming methods. Dr. Figure doesn’t like when patients are sedated, but this can’t go on for longer.
Quickly, nurse Evans pulls down the loose pyjama trousers a little on the side, almost getting himself kicked in the face before the orderly pushed his knee over Jonathan's thigh making the young boy yelp in sudden pain as the pressure was far from gentle.
They are all getting impatient by now. The long needle is pushed deep inside his upper thigh, earning nurse Evans a strangled groan as the liquid burns its way inside his muscle, quickly finding his bloodstream to hopefully get him knocked out fast.
Evans steps back once it’s done, calling for security to disperse the crowd of onlookers.
Getting his attention back to the patient, he was even now spasming and trying to get out of the orderlies grip, still trashing. If anything, the jolt from the sedative needle got him even more riled up.
The annoying thing about forced emergency sedation is how much it's not like in the movies and tv. There, after the needle's barely out of the patient's skin, the person is already slumped, limp and dead to the world. Completely out and dealt with.
Real life's nothing like it. It takes almost 20 minutes to start seeing the first reaction to the drug. Mr Breech is still kicking and turning, he has been panting for a while now, but then he stops for just a moment before going back to trying to push the orderlies away from him.
The rest of the staff managed get the space clear from other patients, just two were left. They said they were mr. Breech's friends and somehow they succeeded in talking the security into letting them stay.
The girl looks in agony now and nurse Evans wonders why did she want to stay if it looks like it pains her to see this? The boy is clearly hurting as well, but by going off of looks alone, he’s apparently more angry than afflicted.
Jonathan cries out once and Evans looks back to him, hoping the sedative would take full effect soon, because of the level of his agitation and high stamina, Evans gave him quite a large dose considering his weight and height. It shouldn’t be taking this long.
Maybe he should give the boy another one, there were three orderlies holding him now and all of them were covered in sweat and blood splotches from the open wound. He was going to do more damage to himself sooner or later.
This could turn dangerous fast. The boy was still bleeding and pulling his tightly held wrists with such force that the nurse could easily see the deep bruises that were about to form there, his neck red with angry scratches from the fabric rubbing fast and rough against his skin.
He was getting another dose ready when Jonathan's movements started getting heavy and slow. His screams and curses of “get off of me” turned into soft pleads and begs that sounded more like hopeless cries.
Few minutes after that, he had his eyes half lidded and his breathing was short and shallow, whole body getting limp and weak as the medication finally took hold of his system.
They all gave it a minute so they recuperated their breath and set out to get the patient to sleep it off in the infirmary.
His torn pyjamas and blooming bruises meant a heavy pile of reports about why excessive force and such a big dose of strong medication was needed, but at least now the worst is over and all they need to do is dump him in the infirmary and he'll be the doctor's problem. Thank God. Let him figure out what to do with that open wound too.
They are setting him on the gurney to ship him off when nurse Evans sees just how red he looks.
Quite red
He was flushed before, what with all the physical exertion and all, but it doesn't look like it's going down while his body is at rest.
On close inspection, his breathing also wasn't better at all. It actually seemed worse. Evens pushed through nearer the boy and checked his vitals.
Shit.
His heartbeat is too slow, blood pressure is fucked and he isn't breathing right.
They turn him on his side, giving his airway a fighting chance as Evans runs to get adrenaline, because his heartbeat has gone to shit and they are dealing with a life threatening emergency now.
...
The doctor cleans away the blood from the young man's torso carefully and gently, hoping the damage underneath isn't too bad.
On first inspection it’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with in the past, being a medical doctor in a mental institution usually means a lot of self inflicted wound care. Those rarely surprise him and this seems like it’s just as any other.
There are five long cuts, one right next to the other and a sixth one interrupted. Deeper and jagged, but much shorter.
He dabs away the last remnants of blood before cleaning each one with antiseptics and setting a tray with the necessary instruments to stitch up the smaller one. Too deep, won’t close by itself.
Jonathan is knocked out, lying on his side and with restrains on his legs and wrists, keeping him stuck to the infirmary bed.
Rachel and Toby had not left his side since witnessing the commotion in front of their friend’s room. He had absolutely freaked out when the head nurse Evans forcibly took the small blade away from him. They knew he self harmed from time to time. Rachel did it too, but that reaction was so out of character that it was concerning.
He had been crying before he started cutting, that was obvious. His eyes were red and puffy, hair a mess and voice scratchy from holding down his cries.
Toby wouldn't be surprised if Jonathan had not slept through the whole night before this all started. He does that sometimes. Has some pretty bad insomnia and then spends the day not wanting to participate in anything, just smoke and drink whatever they managed to smuggle in from their nightly outings.
Then, when the sun is setting, Jonathan and Toby talk a bit and that's when his friend finally lets out some of his feelings, looking fully drained after and then Toby hugs him long and hard, hoping that he'll get a long night's rest and tomorrow's better.
That was the case yesterday. They chatted not long before bedtime, but Jonathan didn’t cry. When Toby sneaked into his room later, Jonathan said he didn't want to go out, just lay down and try to sleep.
Fair enough, he had a rough day. Not that it ever stopped him before, but Toby could understand if his mate needed some space or just some peace and quiet during the night.
Though he was already fully dressed, Toby didn't Feel like going out without his usual companion. Now that he’s used to going out with him, being alone seems boring and pointless, so he just went to his room, got into his own pyjamas and fell asleep hoping Jonathan did much the same.
Then imagine his surprise when he didn't find his friend at the cafeteria, only to walk to his room and see two orderlies and the head nurse fighting to get a blade from his hands, blood staining his clothes, the floor, handprints on the wall and even on one of the orderlies' faces.
So he didn't sleep last night either.
He tried talking with him, asked him to stop, but he wasn't hearing anyone. That sucks. Jonathan's probably going to be stuck in the quiet room for at least a week after this freak out gets to doctor Figure.
Rachel got there not too long after, pushing through the other patients to stand next to Toby while they had finally gotten the blade away from Jonathan, though that didn't stop him from trashing.
She gasped loudly when one of the staff members pushed him a little too forcibly against the floor, earning a sudden yelp from the young man and putting into evidence just how violent this was getting.
By the time the third orderly was called, their friends' wrists were red and scratched. Underneath the blood, bruises were already forming from the struggle and attempts to still him.
“I'm afraid I need to call in for a transfer to a medical unit.”
The doctor's sudden voice pulls Toby away from his thoughts.
He clears his throat, dabbing away blood from the freshly sutured cut on Jonathan's side and continues.
“The seizure you two witnessed isn't common from an allergic reaction. It's not unheard-of, but uncommon nonetheless. It's better to be safe than sorry in situations like this.”
Toby finally looks away from his mate and sees the doctor's kind eyes. The older man looks full of sympathy for the trio. He nods and continues.
“Your friend needs a head scan and we can't do that here. It's probably nothing too big, the medication coupled with the extreme physical strain is probably what triggered the seizure.”
He decides to let out the fact that the sedation dosage was clearly too high for a young man of Jonathan's stature.
After answering a couple of questions, the older man stands up and leaves the three patients behind as he moves to call for a non-emergency ambulance pick up. The boy is stable, but he needs a full check up and the mental institution isn't fit for it.
He also needs to call the young man's brother, this level of circumstance, coupled with the medical emergency can't go unreported.
Even for state-mandated institutionalization cases.
Rachel can’t take her eyes off of Jonathan. He’s not looking too good.
He is still clammy from the struggle, deep dark bags under his eyes and his body is showing more and more bruises by the minute.
There are purple marks on his back, legs, arms and some nasty scratches all over his body. Watching that fight was perhaps a bad idea, she’s always had a tough stomach, but turns out that seeing her close friend scream himself hoarse while getting aggressively held was a little too intense for her.
Well, actually, the fight wasn't exactly pleasant, but it was far from the worst of it. The worst of it was hands down the seizure.
It came out of nowhere. At first, it seemed that the fuss was over, he was out cold and loaded on the gurney when suddenly the head nurse ran and gave him a bunch of different injections, saying he was having an allergic reaction, then he started making this long groaning noise.
He took a deep breath in, making them all think he was fine now, breathing better, but then his whole body began to vibrate and jerk rhythmically. It wasn't violent like the tussle from before, but it was incredibly unsettling to see his limbs moving involuntarily, both tense and limp at the same time, like he was a mechanical thing having the energy being turned off and one repeatedly until it’s fuses burned.
His head at first was turning slightly from side to side, but it quickly changed and he was repeatedly bashing his head against the gurney. The nurse put his hand between the stretcher and his head, making Jonathan let out a small sound, like a soft grunt.
Once it was all over, Rachel and Toby struggled to keep up with the staff’s frantic pace while they rolled their friend to the infirmary. Inside, the doctor didn’t seem too pleased about the state he was in, but didn’t say much about it. Probably because they were listening and all of that.
She gets it though. Most times there’s involuntary sedation, they give a small dose and wait until the person is groggy and weak. Then they are taken to the quiet room until they understand what happened for the patient to freak out.
Honestly, in the suicidal ward there’s rarely these level freakouts. She wonders what happened to make him so uncooperative.
Slowly, she takes his hand in hers, tight cuffs squeezing his wrists won’t let her put his hand on her lap, so she inches closer with the chair to hold it more comfortably.
Not only were his slim wrists irritated and bruised by the struggle, they were also probably aching from the restraints they put on him. There’s no way that’s comfortable. Not that she has ever been in this situation before.
…
Waking up is such an unpleasant feeling.
First thing he knows is that he wants to throw up.
There's this dull pain through his hole body and he feels like he just ran a marathon. He suppresses a cough and feels fire spread from his side through his whole torso, leaving this pulsating pain behind.
That’s when he remembers this morning. The thought crosses his mind and he lifts his hand to hide his eyes.
But he can’t. His arm doesn’t even make it half way there. He tries to shift and his legs are also stuck.
“Hey, hey, Jon, don’t-”
“M’key?” his brother’s voice was a mix of comfort and grief. Means he’s fucked up, but it also means Mikey’s here with him.
“Yeah, I’m here. You got yourself a concussion you gobshite.”
“From nicking my side?”
“No, from raging against three blokes twice your size.” Mikey raised his voice, but softened once he saw his baby brother wince. Yeah, concussion, dumbass. “You’re also apparently allergic to the psychiatric institution’s main sedative. They’ll buy another one just for you in case you want to go mental again in the future.”
“Oh, grand!” Jonathan says sarcastically, but gives nothing else and with that they are back to that awkward silence, much like his first weeks in the asylum.
“You were upset this morning, Jonny?”
His brother just looks away, like he’s miles ahead. He tries to move again, only to feel the tight cuffs scrape his injured wrists.
Mikey holds him in place, much softer than the orderlies this morning. It barely even hurts, witch is saying something, because he was in pain just by existing right now.
“S’ dad’s birthday, yes?”
Jonathan’s whole body tenses up and his eyes well up immediately. Of course Mikey remembers. His nostrils flare and his lower lip involuntarily juts out as he focuses on not crying. He hates crying in front of Mikey, he always did.
He’s barely holding on when he feels his brother’s body over him as he hugs him lightly, Mikey’s own hands are shaking and he kisses Jonathan’s head, like dad used to.
That’s when he breaks down. He longs for a smoke, a razor, coke, grass, booze, anything. Anything but this, but he has no choice. He doesn’t have any of that in reach.
He only has Mikey.
Mikey feels Jonathan’s shaky and weak hands grip the fabric on his back. He pushes his head against the older man’s shoulder and lets it all out. He’s crying ugly and loud, sobbing like he used to as a child, when he’d call for mum, but she was long gone already.
When he’s feeling better, he’ll ask the doctor to let him have a day home instead of in the hospital. He’s gonna make Jonathan some pancakes.