Anna was woken by the curtains around her bed being pulled aside, and after a breakfast of toast and watered down coffee, she tried to prepare herself.

She’d mentally rehearsed this day, from what to wear, how to sit, even where to look. She tried to wrestle her “Depression-hair” into a neat ponytail, but ended up looking like she’d lost a fight. She hadn’t washed or brushed her long hair for two weeks, it was knotted and tangled, and at this point Anna felt she was going to have to shave it off.

Gone were the saggy leggings and food stained sweater she’d lived in for the past two weeks. Instead she dug out a pair of jeans and a grey tee that had been freshly laundered. The hooded zip up sweatshirt was 5 sizes too large, but it felt comforting, like a security blanket. Somewhere to burrow into when things got too much, or questions became too hard.

Ever since Anna had checked herself in to the hospital, she found that life had distilled to its simplest form. Sleep. Wake. Take medications. Eat. Three laps round the ward block for exercise. Stare mindlessly at the wall. Play cards with, what she realised quickly, was not a full deck. She’d actually laughed out loud at that. In a psychiatric ward, of course it wouldn’t be a full deck. And then she’d considered that by laughing out loud alone, she’d cemented the belief in the nurses and fellow patients that yes, she was indeed in the right place. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, to get away. She’d mentally shut down by the time she was admitted, and the routine was a relief. Don’t think, don’t decide, just do as instructed. Take a pause from reality which had felt like too much to cope with.

Unlike some of her fellow patients, Anna was here by choice. She’d been brought here by a concerned friend, and was given a choice about whether to admit herself. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But what she hadn’t processed back then was that the only way out was to be signed off by a doctor. To prove that she wasn’t a danger to herself or others. And then her assigned doctor had gone on sick leave, and her case had somehow fallen through the cracks. What had started as a feeling of safety and comfort, soon became claustrophobic. The institution green walls, the same faces. Anna had felt her mind was starting to reawaken, and wanted more than the daily routine of food, pills and sleep. It was four weeks before she found herself assigned to a new doctor, and by then Anna wanted out. She wanted to go home.

On the day that she’d marked in her mind as FREEDOM DAY, Anna was called through into a large office, where Dr Christensen introduced himself, and there was an informality that didn’t sit right. He sat on the sofa in the room, rather than at the desk, and gestured for Anna to sit in the chair to his right.

He talked through the basics of her case, and asked her to detail the very public breakdown that had led Anna to become a patient. The fact that the store didn’t have a baking tin of the correct size, so she’d thrown everything off the shelves and lay on the floor crying. Security had escorted her out, where she’d curled up in a ball, sobbing. How a friend had come to meet her and taken her home, where she’d done some damage with a pair of blunt scissors and then had a panic attack and collapsed.

Dr Christensen nodded as Anna talked, flicking through a large sheaf of paperwork, making notes in pencil in the margins of documents. He would occasionally smile, but made little comment. Anna began to feel suspicious at the lack of questions. She’d been running though things that she could be asked and prepared her answers, to demonstrate that was wasn’t crazy, she’d just had a bad couple of days, but with no questions being asked, her commentary about her own life felt stilted.

After yet another awkward pause, Anna stated “I’m starting to think that you might know more about me than you let on.”

He gave a broad smile that showed way too many teeth.

“Have you not considered that I do indeed know everything about you?”

“No” Anna responded honestly, because that had genuinely never occurred to her. “But is there any chance you can give me a clue, as I’m not sure I’m not sure I know everything about me.” As the words came out she was shocked to realise that they were true.

“I do know that you don’t take rejection well” he replied. He closed the folder with a snap. “I’ll see you next week.”

She began to scream.