Traumatic

Follow Jacoby into the depths of his deepest, unrealistic thoughts as he ends up in a psych ward.

Flashing lights were all Jacoby could see as he was being wheeled into the nearest psych ward, his arms being bound close to his chest by a straitjacket. Voices were growing louder in his head, attempting to convince him that this was now his home. His mind was clouded, shifting his reality as he began to hallucinate. He imagined patients playing in blood in the hallways, bashing their heads against their doors, appearing as skeletons, fire shooting from their mouths, and some appeared to have severe burns along their faces or bodies, eyes either sunken in or hanging from their sockets. It took him several minutes to decide to thrash around, trying to free himself from what looked like Hell, each hallway leading him deeper and deeper into its' depths. There were people screaming at the top of their lungs from being tortured, maniacal laughter from the ones who were torturing, groans from the dead, fire crackling as it scorched several bodies, and booming from some sort of object being pounded into the floor. Late screeches of his own finally freed themselves from his lips, believing that the voices were now beings that began poking and prodding at him, placing fear within his mind.

Intense paranoia caused him to lose control of his own consciousness as it shut down some of his functions, bringing him back to his childhood. Though he would deny it time and time again, his schizophrenia had been recognized by others since the age of 12. Due to both poor nutrition during his mothers' pregnancy and the age of which she had become pregnant, the mental disorder had attached itself to him the very day he was born. Bullying enhanced his symptoms, having to drop out since he couldn't keep up with the rest of his class; he had been held back more often than not. He was much slower than any other child when it came to basic motor development, impairing his judgment, social cognition, and intelligence. He had just begun to walk when other children had already learned how to speak, having obvious speech issues when he had finally got the feel of walking on his own. Most of the time, his words were loosely connected, sometimes dropping in the middle of a sentence as he lost his train of thought.

His thoughts were disorganized the more he matured, confusing anyone that would try to hold a conversation with him. He would tend to suddenly lose interest in the conversation, unable to remain attentive as he would grow silent for several minutes. He couldn't make sense of facial emotion perception, leaving him to always appear emotionless. While other children were pairing up as friends, beginning to form a connected group, he preferred isolated play. His school performance was always poor as it was difficult for him to pass any grade, social anxiety beginning to overwhelm him even as a child. For the most part, he could even be considered mute, speaking very little if he was forced to. Sometimes he would freeze in the most bizarre, uncomfortable postures, motionless for a long period of time before he gradually began to move again.

Any emotions that he happened to feel, he felt as though someone were forcing it into his head, believing as though it were their emotions instead. He had an issue with recognizing self-experience, instead feeling as though he were a shadow of his former self. He would exhibit purposeless agitation, even when he was being avoided or handed a tiny amount of stress, showcasing the irritation that his mindset had left him in. For the most part, both his hygiene and the way he dressed himself, were quite sloppy; he lacked the motivation that was needed in order to take care of himself, receiving little to no assistance from his parents. He lacked responsiveness, reacting slowly and more negatively than the other students had. While they were forming or even achieving goals for themselves, he couldn't focus long enough in order to do the same, displaying the opposite of inhibition. Since he dropped out at the age of 12, his parents had taken notice on how impossible it seemed for him to do any sort of work, including housework.

Although most children were becoming obsessive with the idea of having someone by their side, Jacoby showed no interest in forming any type of relationship. It seemed as though he held a lack of desire, keeping him away from even a decent connection with his own parents. His long-term memory could not be counted on, especially due to the fact that he had an issue on concentrating altogether. There wasn't much that stuck within his mind, even his previous memories were being blocked out at such an early age. He began to indulge in excessive drinking around the age of 15, stashing his parents' bottles away into his room. He felt as though he were dehydrated whenever he would go without drinking, heavily influencing his distortion of reality. Once his parents found out about his newfound addiction, they cast him out into the streets, ignoring the knowledge they held about his mental disorder.

It was around then that he began throwing himself onto people just to appear "normal", yet he was unable to experience any pleasure with this, as that addiction slowly began to die out. He isolated himself from anyone and anything that didn't involve his drinking habit, leaving him alone to face the voices that began ringing within his ears. He began to believe that everyone hated him, forcing him to keep himself locked away from the real world, developing an unrealistic sense of life. Eventually, his theory deepened, convincing him that he was dying - that the only cure was his alcohol. His parents were roaming the store as the cashier was refusing Jacoby's purchase, explaining his concern for him as Jacoby lashed out in a fit of rage, his hands tightly gripping around the others' throat. The cashier hoarsely called for help as his parents finally found him, turning him in to the authorities, though speaking for him as he was taken to court. They claimed that he was insane in order to avert any jail time, instead sending him off to the psych ward, to where he would no longer be a danger to others.

By the time he came to, he found himself locked away in a padded cell. Though, to him, he was permanently imprisoned in a layer of hell, waiting for his turn to be tortured to death. He heard mocking laughter as it took him even longer to react, shaking his head as he non-verbally responded. His behavior was that of a wild animal rather than a man, only using incoherent words whenever he felt as though he needed to. Other than that, noises and actions were his response instead. He propped himself up against a wall as he remained in this position for what felt like hours, wondering when his next breath would be his last, since he no longer had access to his alcohol. It were almost as though his heart were beginning to shut down, his mind drowning due to an overload of possible scenarios, as his shaky breath was only a cause of what he believed to be true. He would be locked in here for the next several months, unable to receive any contact from anyone, which was as close to paradise as he could feel at this point in his life.