#tw phsyche ward

[thecandywrites]

Monster March 2023 Day 19- Part 3

Intervention

Because everyone who is in a crises or has mental health issues or thoughts and or tendancies for depression and suicide should be able to reach out, and call out, and that should be met with care, understanding, empathy, sympathy and help to deal and get through it. And as someone whose last attempt was unsuccessful and I got the proper intervention and therapy ever since. It can be life changing and life saving and once you learn things like emotional awareness and emotional regulation and mindfullness, it can make a difference.

Also, fun fact, there is such a thing as Mickey Mouse Fish that are in the Platty family. As pictured above.

As always, thanks to @borealwrites for their Monster March 2023 prompts.

Part 3

Intervention

The moment the sensors detected blood in the water, an alarm sounded off and all the lights turned back on and people rushed in and before you knew it, you were scooped up and then taken to the center’s hospital where other micros who were trained to provide medical care for other micros took the writing utensil from your fist and gave you a shot meant to relax you but instead you fought them off, and had you any venom, you would have used it. 

“Stop! Stop! Stop fighting! Stop trying to hurt yourself!” They were all yelling at you as they all seemed to try to tie you down to a special table. 

“No! This stupid fucking pattern needs to come off! I don’t want it! I have never wanted it! It’s cursed! I’m cursed, just kill me and cut it out of me if it’s so fucking special!” You shrieked as you fought against the restraints and the medicine that had been injected into you as two more nurses and then two more doctors gave you four more shots before you finally succumbed but then you were in danger of your heart stopping from the high dose of the relaxant so then it was a matter of trying to actually keep you from getting your wish of dying as they then had to take turns doing chest compressions while putting in more medicine to undo the first six waves of medicine before you got a large dose of adrenaline to a shock to bring you back to life. But by that point, you were gagged and restrained so tightly that you couldn’t move, just scream around the gag and cry as you tried cussing every person in that room out for bringing you back, and to just let you die as they bandaged you up and then the table itself was moved to a special room that had sea sponges lining and floors and it was so tall there was no way for you to jump high enough to reach the ceiling way overhead before special lights were put on that hypnotized you into sleeping again. 

You didn’t know how long you slept but when you awoke you had to crawl on your belly on the floor as you tried to get into the sloping corners so that you couldn’t even wedge yourself into them. Just recline against it before you simply curled up and cried yourself back to sleep. At some point, someone must have come in and removed the restraints you had been put into. But now the special garment you wore protected your body and fins from your hands. And the way it fit you, there was no way for you to take it off. And while you now had access to your hands, your nails were clipped as short as possible so you wouldn’t be able to scratch at yourself. Your hair was even tied up with a special clip that you couldn’t get it out of, let alone really reach. You only had enough movement in the arms of this thing to reach your mouth, so you could feed yourself- so that you couldn’t use it to strangle yourself. So you simply put your hands together under your head, to act like a pillow. You heard the click of a special little door that dropped a single ball of food, too small to choke on, but you recognized it as a baby bit, so you ignored it. 

Instead you just laid there, with your eyes closed as you tried to remember what your parents used to look like, what your siblings used you to look like. What your friends had looked like. What your tank had looked like. Wishing with all your might that you had damaged yourself enough to go back home. 

Finally a very brave nurse came in. 

“Hey Hun, I’m Trixie, can you tell me your name?” She asked as she slowly swam over to you. As you could tell she was wearing a special vest with a cord tied to the ceiling that if you tried to lash out at her, she’d be pulled from the room in a flash. 

But all you did in response was simply fold your arms in front of your chest and just continued to lay there and wouldn’t even look at her, let alone talk to her. 

“It says here that your name is Minnie?” She asked as she looked at her small tech pad. 

“No.” You finally muttered lowly with a subtle shake of your head. 

“So you’re not Minnie Minerva Mouse? Minnie Mouse?” She asked before you finally turned your head as you glared wearily at her. 

“No. I’m not Minnie Fucking Mouse. I never was.” You insisted. 

“So, what is your name then?” She asked. 

“It doesn’t matter. If you can’t even know who or what my real name is, I doubt you even care.” You spat before you turned more into the soft sea sponge padding in on the corner as you could hear her use her stylus to click away at the electronic pad. 

“I do care.” She finally offered. 

“Only because I have those damned white dots on me and that stupid pattern that you can only see with special unnatural light. Just skin me and nail my hide to a board and put a frame on it and be done with it.” You growled resentfully as she simply sighed sadly as she continued to click away at her electronic pad before she unclipped herself from the vest that would pull her out. Because she could sense you didn’t pose a threat or danger to her. You just resented the treatment you had gotten since your “discovery”. Which she could not blame or find fault in. She had seen it happen far too often and she did not like seeing the pattern repeat and was trying everything in her power to help reverse it.  

“No. You are always worth more than your appearances. Your intrinsic value as a person is above everything else. I’m not here to treat the pattern on your body. I’m here to treat the woman in the body, regardless of what is on the body regardless. I understand from your old neighbor that you had been resentful of it and the fact that she neglected to mention that sooner meant that your own intervention should and could have happened so much sooner than it did and you never would have felt the need to try harm yourself in the first place because that resentment grew bigger than any other feeling you had about yourself. And I’m sorry it wasn’t seen or taken care of sooner. And I apologize that it took such drastic measures before this problem was addressed. But I can guarantee you that from now on. Things will be different. And I swear to you- that if you ever get resentful about your pattern again. I’ll personally cover you head to toe in permanent ink so that nothing and no one will ever be able to see it again.” She vowed before you finally turned towards her and began to relax a little more. 

“Why?” You asked. 

“You are a guppy micro, just like me. Guppy micros are always far more aggressively social than most owners can give us. I care that your name and I’m guessing far more about you was probably written just as you were being looked at by the buyers. I care very much, that you were never given the education and training that you should have had from the start. And then just because you developed a recessive pattern in your coloring you were ripped from your family and friends. And you that you had months of medicine that was all supposed to be spaced out according to your body size was given all at once in one or probably multiple superdoses. That your breeder might as well have been a micro-mermaid mill.” She began as she was using her stylus to change things in your chart. 

“Let me guess? You grew up in a huge tank. I’m guessing hundreds of gallons- big. With all kinds of other micros. Where the houses were small but huge public spaces where everyone mingled with everyone else as kids but the moment any of the kids grew close to maturity they were sent to something of a boarding school. With “school pictures” at least once or twice a week? Where the class sizes were huge but you still had plenty of “mentors” that always took the “special girls” away to have “private lessons”. And they were probably told the tale that they were going to grow into big beautiful young women and that they would get to go to big fancy parties where other micros who had very rich owners could afford to bring them to- wherever they were. And get to live in castles. Right?” She wagered as she simply sat on the sea sponge with you to look you in the eye. 

“I don’t know what they were told. I just know I wasn’t one of the “special” ones. Until…I forget how many cycles ago.” You answered. 

“So what’s your real name?” She asked. 

“Ellie. It’s short for Mernerverelli.” You answered. 

“Yeah, I can see why they shortened it and tried to pass you off as Minnie.” She nodded as she put that in. 

“So, the buyers came and they probably took one look at the other girls who had been told since they were little that they were “special” and dismissed them with a single glance but the owner of the tank instead of wanting to lose business, corralled all of you in by kind and then showed you off like you were all one big clutch?” She guessed. 

“And that’s when they had me unfold all my fins and saw the pattern. That’s when…” You trailed off as your lips trembled. 

“That’s when the pump overflowed the tank practically? And everything went beserk all at once?” She guessed 

“Just about. Suddenly I had armed guards escorting me to my bunk to pack up my things, put them into special bags, got pulled out and too many needles injecting every piece of meat and fat on my bones. And then I got sick from all the medicine all at once and then given a stack of books and told to start reading and cramming the knowledge in as quickly as I could.” You revealed. 

“Let me guess, to see the pattern, you either have to be scared shitless or madder than siamese fighting micros?” She prodded. 

“The former.” You answered. 

“And it’s exhausting to keep the fins up and out?” She guessed. 

“Yes.” You nodded. 

“And before all of this, the thought of ever harming yourself never crossed your mind huh?” She proposed. 

“No. It wasn’t until these damned white spots bloomed on my body, not even two weeks ago, that I thought I was just growing into my adult colors and patterns. But because I have the damn Mouse Ears, whatever the fuck those are. I just wish they never appeared or I could cut them off and put them on another who wants them.” You pouted. 

“How many micros were in your class at school?” She asked. 

“Thousands of micros went to the school. But the classes were always at least 100 students.” You answered as she seemed to blink as her eyebrows rose in surprise. 

“Oh good grief!” She exclaimed as she simply settled in. 

“So with that many students, you were probably separated from all the boys at an early age huh?” She guessed. 

“Yeah, we barely had any pattern at all on us when we were separated. Boys on one side, the girls on the other. Only siblings were allowed to meet in the middle once a week.” You revealed.  

“So because you had three spots bloom on you. You got ripped away from all of that and had all that medicine dumped into you and then given stacks of books and told to cram it all into your noggin as quick as you could?” She guessed as she reached up to pet your head as you leaned into her soft motherly touch as she smiled sadly at you. 

“Yes.” You confirmed. 

 “And on top of that, you were isolated and not even given good neighbors. But you were put front and center with no support on how to support that kind of attention. And because you were found at the last minute, meant to be unveiled at something that’s still way too close. That had you not tried to attack yourself, you would have been thrust into a tank of professional entertainers and you would have sit and posed for pictures but probably would have been found dead in the tank the next morning, all because you were unfortunate enough to have an brand new recessive gene that just happened to express itself onto your body.” She added. 

“Yeah.” You nodded. 

“Ok. Well, first, let me get you out of this ridiculous thing and really see how you’re healing up.” She offered before you sat up as she got behind you and untied and unbuckled the damn thing and helped you take it off. 

“That’s better. Not so heavy huh?” She guessed. 

“Yeah.” You nodded before she carefully lifted up the bandages and inspected you at lot more gently than any other had. 

“Yeah, I can see why you were taken. And why you were given that treatment. Well Ellie, I have good news and I have bad news.” She began. 

“What’s the bad news?” You asked. 

“The spots haven’t changed. And you didn’t damage them in any way that it destroyed them. So you’re still stuck with them. Sorry to say. But if you just got them. It wouldn’t surprise me if you ended up getting a few more and suddenly the pattern won’t be a special as it is right now, so there’s still hope there.” She mused. 

“I’m never going to go back home am I?” You asked. 

“No. I don’t think so. For as much as was paid for you. And because you’re a whole week past the guarantee date. That means the transaction for you can’t be reversed. And honestly, it sounds like you came from a very irresponsible breeder who “lucked out” on getting a recessive gene. And I can only hope that the other members of your family are saved from what you just went through. Did any of them have the spots you did?” She asked. 

“No.” You shook your head. 

“Well, if they did. I would expect that your whole family would have been bought with you and then you would have had to inbreed with your own brothers to continue to have kids with the same marks.” She muttered. 

“Ew.” You frowned. 

“Honey, it’s a recessive gene. It’s going to be a lot to find another expression of it that is not in your family tree. Maybe you’ll get lucky and only need like a cousin or something, if not like a whole host of members from your family line to come here to try to reproduce what you are already one of a kind with. So because you’re female, though, you might get a harem of males to mate with going forward.” She explained. 

“But what if I’m just…me. What if I was just that one in a million…” You began. 

“Because you already are that one in a million. And now a million other guppies of your type or even the opposite of your subtype will be picked through and combed over.” She informed you.

“How come this is the first time I’m hearing about any of this?” You asked. 

“If the “school” that you went to had lets say- a thousand students. 500 girls, 500 boys. That’s a lot for a single breeder to keep track of. Usually the flashy colors are easy to spot when they first form. And because you’re dark, and because there’s so many subsets of white and black guppy micros, you probably fell through the cracks and weren’t seen for what you are until the last minute. But moving forward. I would almost guarantee you that- now, every single person in your family is being bought up by the major collectors and they are all probably now getting singled out at home and are getting a tank of their own and your poor mother is probably wracking her brain to remember who she had sex with with you- because in all honesty, guppies, we do like our mating balls, so pinning down our genetics is tricky as far as lineage so it wouldn’t surprise me if all the guppies in that tank were taken out and then watched super closely to see which one your mom mates with gets a similar result to you. And honestly, despite everything. I know you may not see or know this now. But because of these spots. And from your notes, what you look like under black light, you did secure the wellbeing and safety and security of your family. But that usually means that you are kept either for display purposes until a suitable mate can be found outside of your family. Or, depending on how desperate those humans can be to see more of this recessive gene, you might be seeing them again sooner than later, but just…not in the setting you were hoping for.” She gently broke it to you. 

“So what happens now?” You asked. 

“Well, could you promise me to never try to hurt yourself again?” She asked before you nodded. 

“Yes.” You nodded. 

“And would you ever, be aggressive towards anyone else unless provoked?” She asked. 

“No.” You shook your head no. 

“Then we should get you out of isolation because isolation is practically a death sentence for us guppy micros. So I’m putting in a request to at least put you in general population here at the medical center. So that you’re not lonely anymore and get you in a guppy dorm with another guppy roommate and all that jass. And if your new owner really wants you to be more than just a smile in a photograph for more than a single day. They’re going to have to change their expectations and treatment of you. They pushed way too much on you way too fast while also isolating you. And quarantine is really rough, especially for a super social species like us. Usually guppies are always taken in either pairs or trios. Even if the target micro is one, it’s best to transport us in the very least friend groups. I’m surprised you weren’t transported with- at the very least, a sister or two.” She noted. 

“But I wouldn’t wish what I’ve been through on them.” You noted. 

“I know. But it would have made the last few days a bit more bearable if you were with someone instead of all alone.” She noted as you nodded but simply rethought your childhood as more and more of her reasoning seemed to make sense before she brought you out of the room and took you into “processing” where she got you some black smocks that matched your normal “coloring” and to hide the white spots on your body while your fins would be able to be used for movement before she reached up and unclipped your hair before it fell down in a braid as you blew a breath of relief to not have it pulled so tightly on your scalp. 

Then she showed you to a room where you now had a roommate- Missy. Who was injured like you. But had been injured performing instead of self inflicted but she assumed you were in a similar state and you didn’t have the heart or courage to correct her. And just as your “entrance into the hospital recovery ward supplies were given to you as well as a proper “welcome package”. She realized you were a newbie at this and then had tons of helpful advice and neat tips and tricks to cope with the life here and how to choose your friends wisely and how to easily spot a true friend from a fake one- who was doing this solely for the personal benefits and not any other reason. Or any other who would sabotage you to only make themselves stand out and “shine” that much brighter. 

Although she did note that because of your coloring, she doubted any other would ever look at you and ever see a threat to their own spotlight. And once she found out that you only had the special pattern in black light, then she gave you a heads up on what living in a black light tank was like and how it could mess with your sleep schedule but that the perks were usually much higher and the “mood” in the tanks were much more relaxed than in the normal tanks lit up for the general public. 

But just as you were halfway through getting unpacked, there was another alarm and all the nurses rushed to the triage hospital side to administer more first aid to other micros as you simply looked on, but didn’t go and see for yourself. 

Instead you were encouraged to go eat with the others. And to your relief. There were more here than you thought there would be. Some of them had been here for years months and even years. Some of them were injured doing tricks and stunts. So for you- not being recognized or known, it was assumed you were an overzealous “newbie” who got injured in “tryouts”, which was apparently a pretty common thing. 

But now that you actually got a chance to know them from ‘the other side’ of things. You really did get a sense of community and a sense of genuine friendship with the others. And in just a few hours, you felt more and more comfortable. Like you had simply transferred schools or something. Only instead of school work, it was “training” or “performing” or “rehearsals.” As there was something big that was coming up. But something you were happy to play along with for the time being.