Scarlet Pt. 1

Scarlet walked into the room with her head hung low. “Do you know why you are here Scarlet?” the man in the white coat asked as if she were three years old again and had just got caught stealing a cookie.
“Yes,” she forced out.
“We are only hear to help you. You know that right?”
“Y-yes,” she repeated. A word with but three letters and yet it is so hard to form when in the right situation. She wanted to tell the doctor to shove it and storm out of the room, but she restricted the feeling. She knew if she did, she would just be sedated and under constant watch. She wanted to be here little as possible.
“Did the judge tell you how long you have to be here, Scarlet?”
“Not really.”
“Taking a person’s life is a serious thing and after doing what you did, we won’t be able to let you back into society. We know it’s not your fault, but we can’t take the chance of you having another outburst like the last one.”
“I can’t- You mean- Never?” The tears started to flow. She looked around at the surroundings and the people inside the room with her. Is this what she would be forced to look at the rest of her life? No. It couldn’t be. She had to convince them that she wasn’t crazy.
The people looked at her with eyes that told her they were on a higher lever than her. This would be nothing like it used to. Although they all saw the tears fall, none of them stopped for a second to comfort her. Not even a simple pat on the back. How could she live with a group of people that were so cold-hearted? It was as if pain and misery was nothing of importance.
She was well aware of the fact that she had done what she did on purpose and also that she wasn’t crazy. Her lawyer said that would be the best option for her. He lied. She would have rather gone to jail. At least there she could interact with people who were able to move their arms and didn’t need assistance while eating. She wanted to be with people who on her own mental level, even those people had killed someone or molested a little boy. She couldn’t be one to judge. It would also make for interesting stories.
As her tears came to a stop, the doctor told her about the schedules and such. They were to have a therapy session once every week. Their first one would be directly after she got settled into her room. She would be in her own room for at least a month, or until they could trust her around others. In other words, she would get no human contact, excluding the doctor, for a month. It would be a long month.
She walked down the long green hall to her new quarters. Her room was the sixth on the left. Room B-6. Much to her surprise, the room was actually quite quaint. It wasn’t one of those rooms with padded wall and no furniture like you would see in the movies. It looked a lot like something her grandmother would live in. It had a window. (Which was unbreakable and she knew that because the doctor had told her so that she wouldn’t try anything “dangerous to her life.”) It had a nice view of the skyline. There was even a vase of red roses.
“Stop dawdling. You have to go to your therapy in five minutes. Get unpacked now,” the large man in scrubs instructed. He seemed far too large for Scarlet to do anything with so she did as she was told. It took her only seconds to unpack. It wasn’t neat, but she would fix that later. Right now it was time for Doctor Roberts. She knew from the second he told her about it. This session wasn’t going to go well.
“How are you Scarlet? Do you like your room?” the doctor asked with a condescending voice.
“I’m fine. The room is nice.” She lied and he could tell. She didn’t really care what he thought though.
“Did you have any trouble unpacking?” Like he cared at all about her.
“No.”
“Good. Good. Do you have anything on your mind, Scarlet?” It was going to start wether she wanted it to, or not.
“Stop playing around Dr. Roberts. We both know why I am here. Lets just get to it shall we? Yes, I killed my room mate. Lets get one thing straight though, I am not crazy. You would have killed her to had you been in that situation. She came home drunk or high all the time. On many occasions it was both. She would come strolling in at around three in the morning with her newest boy toy. She has so much disrespect for everyone. I had to stop it. I had to kill her.”