A scene in which a character now has a mental health or personality disorder:
“Don’t you know who I am?” The woman demanded again. “I am Elise Mathers, reporter for The Sun Dispatch! I have been interviewed by Oprah, Wendy Williams and GMA on various pieces and I demand to be let go from this horrible place.”
The orderly sighed and flipped the page of his magazine. He hated this shift, everyone hated this shift since this Jane Doe was admitted after having a heart attack. She refused to tell them her name and her prints weren’t in the system, so she insisted on being a famous reporter. It would be somewhat convincing if she remotely looked like the woman she was claiming to be.
Dirty and wearing ill fitted clothing found in the lost and found, she had been there for two weeks now. They had tried every therapist, psychologist and psychiatrist that made been willing to see her. She had scared them all off.
Frustrated that she was being ignored, she ripped the paper from the young man’s hands and flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for.
“See? This is me!” she exclaimed pointing to the picture.
The man took a look and then looked back at her. The woman in the picture had dark hair, dark eyes and stood with her arms crossed with a ‘don’t mess with me’ attitude radiating off of her. The woman in front of him was obviously ten to fifteen years older, ash blond with light blue eyes that reminded him of the murders in some horror shows.
Before he could try to explain again that it wasn’t her, his watch chimed, signalling that it was time for her medication. Taking a deep sigh, he set his paper down and braced himself. The nurse entered the door and right on cue, the woman bolted to the other side of the room.
I’ll give her one thing, she sure is fast for an old lady.
With a look at the nurse they stayed just far apart to cage her in and to grab her if necessary.
“Jane, you know this is for your own good.” The nurse spoke in gentle kind tones. One hand raised as the other held the syringe.
“My name is not Jane! It’s Elise, why won’t anyone believe me?” she began to sob. “I don’t belong here, please help me get out of here.”
The orderly took that chance to go behind her and place strong hands on her shoulders. He hated to hold patients down and silently prayed that she would just get the shot.
Please, just take the shot.
The nurse quickly rubbed an alcohol swap against Jane Doe’s skin and injected the medication cocktail.
Within minutes she was being led back to her room, already woozy as the meds rushed through her system.
As sleep began to take over, she whispered to herself, “I am Elise Mathers, I am Elise Mathers, I… am… Elise…”
And then she was asleep.