Chapter Text
Ray was annoyed. He didn't want to be here. His mom insisted that it was for the best. That he needed help. He thought it was ridiculous. So what, he was anxious. Sometimes it made him pissed off. But one suicidal comment and his mom wanted him in a damn psych ward. It was bullshit in his opinion. The nurses kept an eye on him while he filled out the forms. Probably thinking he was going to try and kill himself with the pen or something. Quick personal information. Easy.
[Last Name: Garraty] [First name: Raymond]
[D.O.B: 03/17/61]
[Age: 18]
[Sex: Male]
Then... Observable Traits. What the fuck did that even mean? He must have looked confused since a black man, probably his age already in those stupid grippy socks, came over to him.
"Back to the day room McVries-" One of the nurses says
"Oh come on man. The newbie is confused. Let me help him for a spell." The man plopped down in the chair next to Ray.
"Observable traits. Yeah I was confused about that too when I first got in here. Basically means what outward symptoms you got" "Thanks..." Ray stared.
"Peter McVries but you can just call me Pete. You are?" Pete replied. "Ray Garraty"
Ray scribbled down the observable traits. Panic attacks, Anger outbursts, Insomnia, No motivation. He felt pathetic as he wrote it all down.
"You got that look compadre" Pete smirks "One that says you're about to pop like a balloon. You one of them self admittance, huh? Not forced in here by cops or hospitals like a few of us."
Ray’s jaw tightened. “Self-admitted?” he echoed, sharp. “No. My mom heard one thing she didn’t like and decided I was a danger to society.”
Pete leaned back in the plastic chair, the legs screeching faintly against the tile. “Ah,” he said knowingly. “So you made the mistake of being honest.”
Ray huffed out something that might’ve been a laugh. “I said I didn’t see the point of anything. One time. After a bad night.” He capped the pen harder than necessary. “Apparently that translates to ‘lock him up.’”
Pete nodded, like he’d heard it before. “They get scared,” Pete said. “Parents. They hear the word suicide and they think it’s a ticking clock.” He nudged Ray’s clipboard with his elbow. “Don’t mean they’re right. Just means they’re scared.”
Ray didn’t answer. He stared at the form again.
[Emergency Contact: Ginnie Garraty]
[Relationship: Mother]
He hated how small that made him feel. Eighteen years old and still getting signed into places like he was ten.
“You actually try anything?” Pete asked, not unkindly.
“No.” The answer came fast. Too fast. Ray forced himself to meet Pete’s eyes. “I wouldn’t.”
Pete studied him for a second, something unreadable passing through his expression. “Yeah,” he said finally. “That’s what most of us say.”
Ray bristled. “I mean it.”
“I know.” Pete’s voice softened. “I’m not saying you don’t. I’m saying… sometimes we don’t know what we’d do until we’re standing at the edge.”
A nurse called from the desk, “Mr. McVries, day room. Now. I mean it.” Pete rolled his eyes.
“They hate when I socialize.” He stood, tugging at the hem of his shirt. The grippy socks were bright blue against the dull floor.
“You’ll get used to it. Three meals, group therapy, Uno. They take your shoelaces so you don’t do anything dramatic.”
“I’m not staying,” Ray muttered.
Pete paused mid-step. “That’s cute.” Ray glared at him. “Look,” Pete said quietly, stepping closer so the nurse couldn’t hear.
“You don’t have to like it. You don’t have to think you belong here. But if you’re already here? Might as well use it. Sleep. Talk. Figure your head out a little.”
Ray swallowed “I’m not crazy,” he said.
Pete’s mouth twitched. “Good. Neither am I.” He started walking backward toward the hall. “Crazy’s easy. This stuff? This is just… heavy.”
Ray watched him go, the nurse hovering. The form still waited in his hands.
Reason for Admission:
Ray stared at the blank line. His pen hovered. He could write what his mom said. He could write what the counselor at school had written down. He could write something safe. Instead, slowly, he pressed the pen to paper.
“I don’t know how to stop feeling angry.”
For a second, his throat burned. A nurse approached, gentle but firm. “All set, Raymond?” He nodded once and handed over the clipboard. As she skimmed it, Ray glanced toward the hallway where Pete had disappeared.