Lilian

The Longest Night of My Life

I woke up, thinking, “I’m in my room at home.” But, I was in a strange, dimly lit, white room. I could see dark shadows in the corners of the room, the window shades were drawn, and there was only one small ray of light emitting from the ceiling fixture. Suddenly it hit me. It all came back. The horrible events that had only taken place 10 hours ago. I looked at my watch. It was 7:45 A.M. Monday morning, December 8, 1997. I was supposed to be taking my computer final in five minutes. But I was stuck here. It could be worse, though. At least I was here, instead of in a jail cell.

I looked at the windows. There was no way to open them or even to get close to them. I suppose it was to prevent anyone from jumping. I almost jumped last night. I was going to take off the screen and jump. But I didn’t. I was not sure if I wanted to kill myself now.

This room was so empty. My belongings were all locked up. But being here in the psychiatric ward of *A Hospital* was better that being in a jail cell. I couldn’t have dealt with that.

I had many thoughts going through my head. Would they let me out when my parents came. What was going to happen to me?  I wondered what was I going to do about my finals. At that moment I was missing my computer final!  What was I going to do? How did I get myself into this mess?

I noticed my residence hall advisor (RA) had just redone the bulletin board across from the elevators. It had something to do with winter. I remember seeing little snowmen and angels cut out of paper. Then I noticed that she had finally made another door decoration. They were also snowmen and angels cut from white paper. As I stood, staring at the bulletin board, my RA saw me and asked me if I had been looking for her. I told her, “No.” The thought went through my head of why my RA would think that I was looking for her. I stood there puzzled for a few seconds. Then I decided that I needed to stop dawdling, and get back to my room so I could study.

I walked down the hallway towards my room. Everything seemed normal. I heard the “cli-clunk, cli-clunk” of the washing machine of someone doing their laundry. Otherwise the floor was quiet. I surmised that everyone must be studying for their finals.

The door to my room was open. I walked hesitatingly, and immediately felt my heart begin to race. To my right, my roommate was sitting on her bed with an expression that made me feel uneasy. Sitting next to her on the bed was her friend from next door. To my left, I saw the residence hall coordinator (RHC). My mind searched frantically for an explanation of this scene in front of me. I felt immense fear and dread surging up from my gut to my throat. I finished walking into my room and put my backpack down by my desk. I turned around to face the doorway and the three people in my room. Suddenly my RA entered the room, shut the door behind her and sat down next to the RHC. My roommate’s friend stood up to leave, but my roommate pulled her back down as if saying to her, “No, I need you here,” in a stern tone. The only reason I could find in my mind for this scene was that my roommate was going to be swapping roommates with her friend, as we had not been getting along. But what I had in store, was not even close.

My body trembled and I was seized with fear and panic, knowing that what happened next would not be good. I can’t remember who spoke first, but I found out the reason for this entourage. While I was at my study session, my roommate was talking on the phone to her sister when she looked over towards my side of the room. She noticed a red light on my Sony tape recorder which was on a shelf under my desk. She finished her conversation and examined the tape recorder.
The RHC asked me, “Did you leave the tape recorder on by accident, or have you been doing it for awhile?”

 I replied, “It was left on by accident.”

Then my roommate stated, “I listened to the tape.”
I then said to the RHC, “I left the recorder on, but just for today.”
Then she sneered, “That’s a lie because I listened to both sides of the tape. You have been doing it for more than one day!”

I was crying by this time and babbled, “I’ve only tape recorded occasionally for the past four days and since the tape recorder was on voice activated, it only picks up sounds. It isn’t that sensitive.”

I was so upset that I was ready to throw up. I felt my heart pounding in my throat. I was shaking all over and was in a panic state of “fight or flight”. I wanted to get out of there. I wanted to pack up my bags and leave. I didn’t want to be left in the room with my roommate or sleep in my room that night. By this time I was crying harder. I didn’t know what to do. I felt lost and alone. The RHC inquired why I had tape recorded her.

I sobbed, “I don’t know. I thought she was talking about me. I guess I wanted to know what she was saying. I thought she was telling bad things about me to the other people on the floor. I thought I had heard her saying bad things about me on the telephone. So, I put on the tape recorder to find out what she was saying about me."

Then two police officers showed up the doorway of my room. When I saw them I lost it and began crying hysterically. It turned out that what I did was a felony because it was considered eavesdropping, and there was a new law out that made eavesdropping a felony. I felt so lost, hopeless and alone. I had never imagined that trying to find out what my roommate was saying about me behind my back could have turned into this.

One of the police officer’s attempted to interview me. He told me that I was not under arrest, but he was going to read me my rights. At that point I became even more hysterical. To me, reading me my rights was the same as being arrested. I had never been in trouble before. I had never even gotten a detention in high school. The worst thing I had ever gotten in trouble for was going through a stop sign on my bicycle when I was in seventh grade. A policeman gave me a warning for that transgression. So for me to be in so much trouble was unfathomable.
Through my tears I whimpered to the police officer that I wanted to call my mom and go home. I don’t remember what I said when my mom answered the phone, but I remember giving the phone to the police officer. As he talked to my mother, I sat there sobbing, rocking back and forth on my chair. My mind was racing. I was imagining all the consequences that could come of this. I imagined the worse. I thought I would be kicked out of school and that my life was over. I imagined my relative’s reaction to my being expelled from college and to knowing the reason for my expulsion. I felt so alone and didn’t know what to do. I thought I was a horrible person. I decided that the only way I could deal with all of this was to end my life by jumping out the window.

People were coming in and out of the room. Sometime during this period, I remember my roommate coming into the room with another person. She was standing by the door with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at me. While she was standing there, I attempted to apologize to her. Through my blubbering I cried in agony, “I’m so sorry. I’ve never done anything so stupid in my whole life. I’ve never regretted anything more in my whole life!” She just continued to glare at me with her blue, beady, little eyes. There was no forgiveness in her soul.
I don’t really know what happened next, but I was now alone in the room with the RHC. I went to my bed, got my Kleenex box and my Cabbage Patch doll, blew my nose, held tightly onto my doll and cried into her hair. I sat on my chair, rocking back and forth, holding my doll. I didn’t know what to do. I started to look at the screen on the window in my room. Through my tears and my sobbing, I figured that I could turn the little knobs to let the screen free, take off the screen and fall out the window. I saw myself doing it. Then I decided that falling four stories probably wouldn’t kill me. So my mind started to wander, which I guess is the only reason why I didn’t do it then.

A counselor on duty was called to come and talk to me. She tried to calm me down, assuring me it wasn’t that bad. She thought that my roommate probably wouldn’t press charges against me. She tried to convince me in a comforting, soothing manner that everything would be ok. After talking to her for about 20 minutes, I had calmed down some, but I was still crying. The counselor went to talk to my roommate and the police officer came to talk to me again. He asked me if I was ready to speak to him. I told him, “No.” I felt that if I didn’t let him talk to me that he couldn’t do anything to me. He also told me that it would be unlikely that my roommate would press charges.

The counselor came back and told the officer that my roommate was ready to speak to him. The counselor then told me that from her conversation with my roommate, it seemed likely that she would press charges. I became hysterical again. We discussed the worse case scenario, which would be that I would end up spending the night in jail and I would have to face the judge the next day. She didn’t know what would happen and neither did I, especially since I was supposed to be taking a final the next day.

The police officer came back into my room and told me that my roommate was pressing charges. It seemed as if everything came crashing down at that moment. If it was possible, I became even more hysterical, sobbing uncontrollably. One could hardly believe I had any tears left.

I had calmed down a bit, but the idea of going to jail hit me again, and this time it was real. This was no longer a hypothetical situation in my mind. I was going to spend the night in jail because I had done something stupid. The reality of the situation hit me very hard. I couldn’t handle it and lost it.

When I had talked to my mother on the phone, I told her that I wanted to jump out the window. My mother told the counselor what I had said about jumping out the window. Because of this, the counselor did not want me put in jail. She told the officers that I was suicidal and needed to be under observation. So they decided to check me into the psychiatric ward of *A Hospital* rather than taking
me to jail.

I was instructed to get some of my belongings, since I was going to spend at least one night in the hospital. I threw some clothes, incidentals, and my allergy medicine in a paper bag. I also put some of my most valuable possessions in my closet and locked it. I was afraid that my hostile roommate might destroy some of my possessions. Before we left to go to the hospital, I told the police officers and the counselor that I had to go to the washroom. I didn’t realize that I had to be escorted to the bathroom. The police officers stood in the hallway outside the washroom door and the counselor came into the bathroom with me. I thought this procedure was totally ludicrous.

The two police officers and the counselor then escorted me to the elevator and through the main lobby of the dorm. Luckily, it was now about 1 A.M. and since there were finals the next day, the lobby was empty as most students were either sleeping or studying. I would have been really ashamed if a lot of people had seen me with police escorts. I also had been terrified that they were going to handcuff me. Fortunately, that did not happen. Once we were outside the dorm, I was driven to the hospital in the police car.

At the hospital, I remember talking to many people and answering all kinds of questions. I had to be evaluated before they admitted me. Finally, the nurse from the psychiatric ward walked me to a room. She asked me if I needed sleeping pills. As I had cried from about 9:30 P.M. to 1:00 A.M. without stopping, I was totally exhausted and felt I did not need any medicine to make me sleep. I fell asleep about 3:30 A.M. That was the longest night of my life.

Epilogue:
My parents arrived at the hospital Monday morning by 9:30 A.M. I checked out of the hospital with them and was able to reschedule my finals. I moved out of my room that day. My resident hall coordinator was able to find me housing in the same dorm complex for the second semester. The police decided that I did not need to come before the judge. The legal charges had to be reviewed by the district attorney before any charges could be made. No charges were filed by the end of the second semester. The Student Judicial Office reviewed the case at the University in March. I received a technical and censure in April. At the end of the second semester, my ex-roommate went back to Texas, where, according to my conversation with her from first semester, she intended to stay and go to school.