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“Step up against the wall, back straight. Hold up your number.”
Jinx’s eyes were fuzzy, not quite there as she stared at the glass in front of her, a one-way mirror in which she refused to look at herself. “Look straight ahead- just like that. Stay still.”
She blinks the first few times they try to take a photo. She glances down at her signboard.
“Undercity. Jinx. Stillwater Prison.”
It doesn’t really sink in that the name on that signboard is her own, It feels like she’s observing someone else go through it all, a passenger. Someone drags her along to the next room soon after, there was talking but it all went in one ear and out the other.
Jinx stares at the enforcer in front of her with a blank expression as they yell at her to comply, loading a gun at one point. Oh. Probably need to pay attention to that one. “Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be. Strip, we’ll search your belongings and you can put it back on.”
It takes a few moments for any of that to register in her mind as she backs up a little, searching each of the 4 or so enforcers in the room. The nerves don’t leave as she slowly takes off each article of clothing, willing herself to stay still and not completely freak out when one enforcer comes over to check she isn’t hiding anything on her person. Not that she would. It’s impractical. When she gets her clothes back, they’re…weird.
Her laces are gone. And the rope on her shirt.
“Hazards.”
Hazards.
She’s walked over to some doctors office, the same enforcers around her at all times, Jinx can’t tell if they’re guarding her or everyone else from her. She’s not sure what she’d prefer. Slowly sitting on the bed frame opposite the doctor- mattresses are a luxury, apparently- she tunes out most of the conversation. Hardly moves or flinches when blood work is done.
“She’s 5’3’’? Bit underweight for 5’3’’. Might be anemic. Otherwise she looks fine, though. Do you think we should do a Psych evaluation?”
No.
“Probably should.”
She bites her lip, but can’t even find it in her to argue or fight back. Piltie Doctors ask a lot of questions, that was something Jinx was starting to pick up on. All these questions so they can call you a specific kind of crazy, she doesn’t need a label. She’s known she’s not quite right in the head for years now, people love to tell her.
So many questions.
What were your parents like?
Fine.
Did you have any siblings? Describe your relationship with them.
Yeah. Fine.
Have you ever been diagnosed with a mental health disorder? No.
What’s your family medical history? I don’t know.
Do you have trouble eating or sleeping? Sometimes.
Sometimes? Sometimes.
Have you taken any drugs or alcohol within the past month? No. I don’t think so.
What symptoms are you experiencing? None.
Do you ever see or hear things other people don’t? Sometimes.
The doctor pulls out a different list. More questions. So many questions.
His pen clicks. “Okay, we’re going to try to do this quickly. I’ve got a list of maybe 30 questions. Yes, sometimes, no. Those are your answers for questions 1-10. Agree, neutral, disagree, those are 11-30. Do you understand?”
It takes so much effort to nod.
“Okay…” He cautiously slides her the paper and pen, “Can you read?”
“Yeah.” She’s not that stupid.
Jinx looks down at the questions, daunting questions.
- Do you have worries you can’t get rid of? Sometimes.
- Are you ever wary or convinced someone will hurt you even with nothing to back this up? Sometimes.
- Do you feel you have less energy than usual? No.
- Do you have a harder time concentrating lately? Yes.
- Have you lost interest in things/people you used to enjoy? Yes.
- Do you often have crying spells? Sometimes.
- Do you feel more irritable than usual? Sometimes.
- Do you ever hold beliefs that aren’t real and seem ridiculous to other people? Yes.
- Do you tend to hold grudges easily? Yes.
- Do you have periods of extreme happiness and extreme sadness? Sometimes.
Was ‘crazy’ not a good enough title for them?
11. I often don’t feel like eating. Agree.
12. I do not have a future. Agree.
13. I have taken drugs before. Agree - Didn’t want.
14. I have had alcohol before. Agree.
15. I rely on drugs and/or alcohol to get through the day. Disagree.
16. I have thought about hurting those close to me before. Agree.
17. I have thought about hurting myself before.
She stares at the question with a frown for a moment, thinking it over. There’s probably a right and a wrong answer here- she’d messed up when she told the truth on the last few questions, that was a mistake. They’ll put her in a special kind of cell, specifically for the extra crazies. Too deep now.
Agree.
18. I have hurt myself on purpose before. Agree.
19. I smoke or have in the past. Disagree.
20. I am close with my family. Disagree.
21. I have a strong social circle. Neutral.
22. I can’t remember significant parts of my childhood. Disagree.
23. My parents were physically/emotionally/sexually abusive. Disagree.
24. Other people in my life have been physically/emotionally/sexually abusive to me. Neutral.
25. My parents did alcohol/drugs/smoked. Neutral.
26. I often feel afraid of my parents and/or other significant family members. Disagree.
27. I am useless. Neutral.
28. I think my loved ones would be better off without me. Agree.
29. I often think about dying. Agree.
Finally, the last question.
30. I have attempted to kill myself.
Jinx thinks about it for a moment. Right, hazards, that’s why.
Agree.
It wasn’t even ropes. These questions are stupid. The doctor takes back the paper. He seems disappointed. Wrong kind of crazy, probably. He writes down a series of notes, looking over at the enforcers- oh, they’re still here.
“There’s probably a couple things at play here. I don’t know for sure based off a questionnaire alone, but it looks like some kind of schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type probably. Some of these answers indicate Borderline Personality Disorder- but that could be because of symptom crossover with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder- I’d recommend an antidepressant to start off with-”
“We’ll be off now,” One interrupts. “We can have this conversation later.”
Jinx picks at her nail beds idly, waiting for the time to pass. The next test, the next reason she should off herself already.
“...Right,” The doctor eyes her carefully. “...Keep an eye on her. A couple of positive responses to the self-harm questions-”
“We’ll be on our way now. Thank you, Doctor.”
She screws up her face when someone grabs her by the arm, dragging her off to some other room. “You’ll want to take out her braids too so she can’t use them,” He calls out one last time, but it seems to fall on mostly deaf ears. Why is everyone so convinced she’s going to hang herself?
Jinx is forcibly thrown down onto a plastic chair, the lamp on the ground blinding her with how bright it is. “Right, well, we should go over the rules here, shouldn’t we?” One enforcer laughs, another rolls their eyes. The group of 4 trickled down to 2, maybe they lost interest. Boo.
The rules go on forever. Jinx doesn’t really listen. She doesn’t do much of anything, really. It’s oddly quiet, usually Mylo would’ve laughed at the situation, or maybe Vander would look at her all disappointed. Hell, maybe Silco would’ve shown up, berated her for being so stupid. No, he wouldn’t do that. Silco was the worst man in all of Zaun and he was maybe her favorite person.
Until she showed up.
But she’s gone now. So it’s not like it matters anymore.
Her cell is far down, it’s probably not even a real cell. Someone mentions a bunker- if Jinx had to guess, this was the bunker. Spacious. Some part of her wonders if Vi had a cell like this. What was prison like for her? It’s not like they ever got a really good chance to talk about it beyond the tea party. It kind of sucks for everyone. ‘Hungry, bloody.’ Maybe she had a tiny cell room, maybe she had a roommate. Maybe Vi had a Boyfriend in here. Or a girlfriend. More likely a girlfriend, Vi didn’t seem like the type to like men.
There’s a moment before she’s shoved in the cell where they cuff her to the bars, murmuring between them. Her eye twitches as one grabs the end of her braid, the other following suit. An hour's worth of work is undone as the braids are slowly taken apart, the bullet casings in them confiscated. She’s sort of surprised it’s taken this long. Jinx takes a slow breath as she’s pushed into the cell, some of her hair catching painfully on the metal bars, wavy and unkempt.
Jinx crawls over to the darkest corner, furthest from the door, from all the people on the other side. She carefully lays herself down against the cold floor, staring at the empty darkness.
Maybe if she just stopped moving, stopped doing anything, she could just rot in there. Finally be allowed to give up. To die.