The dark never scared me. Even though there is mystery and fear in the unknown, I found peace in the night. Until it became loud.
“Name.” The doctor’s projecting voice came again, gripping the plastic clipboard in her hand and tapping a liquid ballpoint at her temples. Her silicone stethoscope unevenly rested on her collarbones and the copper badge below it beamed like a penny in a fountain, somewhat blinding me. I glanced up, bringing my attention back to her eyes. Wait, what did she just say? I jumped at the distant screams from the other end of the hall, desperately wanting to escape. The sterile blue glare of the institution tainted my surroundings. The lingering disinfectant odor of Lysol and hand sanitizer sent shocks of trickling goosebumps from my ripped cuticles to my quivering legs. Unconsciously, I tore at the thin sanitary paper sheet I was sitting on. I want to get out. I don’t belong here. The Velcro attachments on the robe, since buttons would be too intricate for a place like this, poked at my stomach. “Name.”
I had to attempt to quiet the internal voices before managing to spit out, “M-my name? Sere- Serenity Clark” Just speak normally for once.
“Share group, Room B 317. Out this door right and the third room on the left” I dragged my feet which were suffocated in non-slip socks. I want to get out.
Surprisingly, I was met by a round, grinning face approaching me as I entered. “Hi, I’m Cherry.” Her crooked bangs swayed in her face like a loose shower curtain. However, my eyes darted to the yellow bruises on her collarbone, and I wondered how much further they trailed down. She immediately re-adjusted her robe to conceal the contusions and guided me to a plush woven pillow on the floor. I guess even plastic chairs could be a potential danger. “Let’s just go around and get to know each other before the workshop sessions at 12.”
“So what do we have here, a newbie huh?” A voice vibrated from the other side of the dim confined room. Her legs coiled up and cradled, forming an insect-like silhouette against the barred windows.
“That’s Frostine,” Cherry whispered. I was met with a demonic glare from Frostine and I examined the thick plump scars lacing up her forearm like a jagged ladder. She scavenged towards me as if to decode a riddle.
“Wait. Let me guess. Abandonment? No, your hair has been recently trimmed. Dementia?” The dark circles formed purple donuts around her opaque eyes which darted across my face for confirmation or a reaction. “Schizophrenia? Drug addiction?” She pinned. Nothing, none of that. I don’t belong here. I’m normal, I’m normal. “So the newbie doesn’t speak. Hmm, sexual assault? Or the classic: self-harm!” Frostine giggled and grabbed her marble notebook from a worn-out silicon tub against the disintegrating concrete wall.
“I guess I’ll go first and fully introduce myself” Cherry fidgeted with the flamingo pink crayon which matched the natural rose of her cheeks. “I have been admitted for let’s see now, three weeks. I was a victim of domestic abuse and luckily escaped from the trailer park. Now I’m here. This is a safe space, Serenity. You can share. This is a place for healing.” I peered at Frostine who was clearly sketching intricate facial structures.
“I- ” My brain became a tangled mess of yarn. I wished to pull out my thoughts and knit them into neat rows and columns. If only I could hand the nerves a dainty paintbrush and canvas to piece the puzzles in my head. But no. The thoughts remain a knotted bundle of unusable thread.
“If little miss princess isn’t gonna go I guess I’ll prompt you. I mean we’re gonna be living together till one of us is better. It seems like for you, that could be a while.” Frostine’s cold glare steadied on the thin blue stripe on her notebook, slowly transforming it into a grey line with her pencil. “I started with, glass bottles. Shattering them on the road”, she inhaled, “Then whatever scraps of metal I found in the dumpsters until” Her voice subsided and slowed, but the pencil sunk deeper and deeper through the paper till it began to tear. She didn’t blink as she spoke. Her pencil reached the edge of the page and Frostine set her concentration on me. “Why are you here?”
The never-ending question rattled under my skin. Why am I here? I haven’t gone through a traumatic experience. I haven’t been scarred like the rest of them. I shouldn’t be here. I should be outside, away from here. I should be doing everyday teenage things, worrying about what I’m going to wear to school rather than calculating when I get out of this cynical constitution. There is no reason. No explanation. You are spoiled and ungrateful, you had everything and you threw it away. I desperately attempt to swim upstream against the rapid influx of unconscious thoughts. My brain, an overinflated balloon swelling and aching, anticipating a pop, a release. I had so much potential. The repetitive failure zapped through my spine shocking me before I could recover from the initial reminder. Panic set in, treading in quicksand, gasping for air.
Beep Beep Beep. I jolted out of the daze, time to get up for school. You are fine. You are here. I crawl out of my bed and stumble to flick the light switch on.