Post by lizzcaitlin on Mar 30, 2012 22:08:57 GMT -3
Jump…I looked down at the water, a seventy foot drop at least. I stepped off the ledge, falling…
“Are you listening to me?”
My mind fell back to reality. We drove over the bridge, leaving the gleaming water behind. It looked so welcoming. It was certainly better than the place I was headed. Ignoring my mothers request for attention I kept my back turned, hopelessly staring out the window. After all, it was her doing that brought me here in the first place.
Texas, or rather Camp Greenwood, located right smack in the middle of nowhere. We’ve been driving for the last three days from Blackstone PA. Why she is sending me halfway across the country is beyond me. I figure she just wants me out of her professionally dyed hair. That way her and her new husband can start their own family, void of the troubled step-daughter.
My junior year is utterly ruined. Having left with six months still remaining in the year, it will have to be continued at Greenwood. I can see it now; a brightly lit classroom full of deranged kids whose parents couldn’t handle them. Ankles chained to the desk with a retired military sergeant for a teacher. By playing the “I have no idea why I’m here, I’m innocent card.” I’ll be out before Christmas. It works every time. At least, it use to before the accident.
It really was an accident. How was I supposed to know that the knife was that sharp? Well, I knew, but I didn’t think I’d go so deep. Of course, with my luck, I went a bit too far and ended up passing out, blood pooled on the tile floor, staining my turquoise bath mat. If my mother hadn’t gotten home from work early, no one would have caught me. I wouldn’t be here right now. I’d be history, and that’s just how I like it. I wonder how Greenwood is going to finish out my schooling. I shouldn’t be stuck here for more than a month. I know how to put on a show.
“Here we are.” my mothers cold voice broke the welcomed silence.
I looked up to see a massive metal gate opening to let us enter. It didn’t even look like a camp; there weren’t even any trees. This was my new prison. My mother pulled up to a booth, handed a note to the security guard, who then waved us through the inner gate. This is way worse than prison. I don’t see myself making lanyards or swimming in a pond. I will more likely get stuck making license plates and breaking rocks with a hammer.
Greenwood looked like an old fortress for the Confederacy. It towered above me like my life was about to end. Had there been lightning and a torrential downpour it would have fit nicely. The windows were barred, so that anyone locked inside stayed there. I looked up and could see in multiple rooms faces staring out the window, at me. This was supposed to be my new home. I got out of the car.
“Welcome to Camp Greenwood. I’m Ms. Cheryl.” A woman greeted my mother as we stepped out of the car. She turned to me; “You must be Abigail.” she smiled shaking my hand, and then looked at my mother, “Hello Mrs. Wallach, we have everything ready.”
“Call me Joan” I almost gagged at my mother’s voice. She always had a way to change her mood when company was around.
“Well, Joan. Abigail, I can assure you will be safe here. As you can see we have state of the art security with around the clock surveillance.”
Cheryl began leading us to her office where my mother had the joy to sign the official papers granting the institution custody over me. I couldn’t help but notice at how my mother checked her diamond encrusted wrist watch every other minute and glancing at her new two carat diamond wedding ring wishing to be rid of me. Not too long after, I was saying goodbye, suitcases in hand, watching her drive off. “Well we must get you to your room; dinner is in an hour. You will have no roommates for the first week then depending on your progress you will be allowed to move in with another student.”
From there I was brought to a small cube shaped room, my belongings confiscated. They had to make sure I didn’t try to sneak any weapons that could harm me or anyone else. The best way for me to get out of this place is to try to kill the staff; yeah great idea, although the idea of offing myself does seem a bit tempting. Which is probably why they took everything -including my new pair of dark purple converse- in exchange for a pair of slate gray slip-on-slippers, gray sweatpants, and a gray long sleeved shirt. It’s not like I was about to hang myself with my foot long shoelaces. Seriously, I’m twisted, but not that twisted. My best bet is just to save up the meds they give me here and then take those all at once. But I better stop fantasizing before I get myself too excited.
Settling into my cot, I surveyed the room. It was an unusual shade of light blue-like on in a baby’s nursery- as if they thought white would drive me insane. This was going to be my home for the next unforeseeable future, unless I had something to say about it. I don’t have a problem, so I don’t deserve to be here. Everything was under control. It’s my business what I do with my body, not some doctor that took a couple classes and read a few books. They don’t know who I am. No one does.
Laying my head on the pillow, I closed my eyes, wishing this was a dream. But of course, when I opened my eyes, everything was still there. I was still there.
“Knock knock, can I come in?” I heard a woman’s voice outside my door followed by a click, a lock. I was locked in. Great.
“Here’s your dinner, I thought you might be hungry.” The woman came in and put a tray of food on the desk in the corner.
“I don’t eat in the cafeteria?”
“Why you just got here and haven’t reached that level. Patience and in a week you should be allowed to join the rest of the students.” She smiled as if she really meant what she was saying. It made me sick.
I nodded and didn’t say anything else, waiting for her to leave. Finally after a minute of awkward silence she got up and left locking the door behind her. Not wanting to seem uncooperative I went over to the desk and looked at the food. It didn’t seem so bad. It smelled edible. Definitely frozen but edible. There were no utensils which explained why all the food could be eaten without.
I had just finished my dinner when there was another knock on my door. Cheryl came into my room. “Just wanted to check in on you before I go to group; you won’t be starting group until next week as long as your personal sessions go well. I see that you have already eaten which is a good sign. Most people that come refuse to eat, which keeps them stuck on level 0 until they improve.” She shifted as if she needed to leave but kept talking. “Tomorrow you will meet with me and some other doctors to discuss your schooling and path that you wish to take while here. We’ll cover that all tomorrow. So I better get going. Pam, the woman that brought you dinner will come to get you in the morning. If you wish to shower or ever have to go to the bathroom you must see her, she will be stationed outside the hall at her desk. If you need her just knock on the door and she’ll be right with you. Have a good night Abigail.” With that she left, locking me back into the prison cell for the night.
Not wanting to be any trouble I got into bed. It was already almost ten and I hadn’t slept much in the car. Within ten minutes I was fast asleep, allowing the nightmares to take over my mind. But still I didn’t want to wake up; I preferred my nightmares to reality any day.
“Wake up Abigail, breakfast is here.” Pam walked into my room carrying a tray of hot food, which smelled pretty good.
I sat up in bed nodding to acknowledge her presence. “Now eat quickly because in about thirty minutes you have your first personal session with Cheryl. I’ll be back to get you in about twenty-five minutes.” And with that she left the room, I noticed the door didn’t lock this time. Maybe they didn’t think I was so messed up after all.
Fifteen minutes later I was showered and dressed in the same outfit as the night before. I sat on my cot waiting for Pam to get back and take me where I had to go. My main goal now is to answer all the questions right. I was use to this. After the accident at the hospital I was being asked questions by everyone; doctors, nurses, physciatrist. They all had their own views of me yet no one really knew me.
I remember when I first woke up in the hospital. My arm was stiff, twenty pure black stitches curved down my arm, allowing everyone to see what I had done. My arms and legs held tight in restraints as if I would try to run now. I knew how to play this game. I had always wondered what I would do if this happened. I figured my best action was to do nothing. Answer the questions and move on with it. It really didn’t matter what I had to say, my arm spoke for me. I was crazy either way.
“Ready for your first meeting?” Pam stood next to my cot.
“Yes.” My voice came out steady as if I was perfectly fine, when inside I was ready to break down.
Walking behind Pam I followed her down hallways to a conference room. Ms Cheryl and two other staff members sat in black leather swivel chairs around a large wood table. They each sat with files open, each immersed in some aspect of my history. “Please take a seat Abigail.” Ms Cheryl looked up from the papers motioning to the only other chair in the room.
I sat down, smiling at the doctors trying to keep my composure. One thing I hated was meetings. I had enough at the hospital I was in. I was never admitted to the psych ward but the doctors from the psych ward visited me. Trying to find evidence to get me locked up. I dodged every question and in the end I was released.
I analyzed the doctors. The woman next to Ms Cheryl looked young, as if she was new to this field of work. Still naïve to the deception I hold. Though the man to the left seemed cold, his eyes held storied I couldn’t read. While he didn’t look older than forty he had short gray silver hair making him older. I would answer all the questions they wanted me to answer. Though I wouldn’t necessarily answer them truthfully, one thing I learned a long time ago was that no one wanted to hear the truth. Tell them what they wanted to hear and they’ll be happier than if I would have told the truth. Ms Cheryl began the meeting.
“Thank you for being so cooperative Abigail, as you have been told this is your first level zero meeting.” I nodded, unaware what level zero meant.
The woman beside Ms Cheryl spoke, “I am Mrs. Fisher, your primary one on one counselor. This meeting is here so the three of us can get to know and understand you better.” I tried not to gag. No one has ever taken the time to get to know me; at least no one that has ever mattered.
At my high school I had friends. People I would talk to, hang out with, sometimes I would even sleep over at their houses. But no one really cared though. They were my friends but if I never showed up to a party they wouldn’t think twice. I was merely in the background; which is exactly how I like it.
“Now Abigail, by the end of this meeting we will be able to decide the right course of action to be taken and what type of curriculum you will be taught. I’m Mr. Gates your group therapy counselor.” Great not only will I have a one on one therapy session but also a group session. The last thing I need is to listen to other kids sob about their horrible lives.
“The three of us will be working with each other as your primary doctors. Your file will be open only to us and the pharmacy. Your duration of stay here is all dependent on you.” Ms Cheryl smiled as if I were here for summer camp and not against my will. If it were dependent on me I would be in second period biology; listening to my teacher drone on about the different kingdoms.”
“Now we are going to ask you some questions that we would like to know. If you don’t feel comfortable answering just say pass.”
I sat back in my chair ready for anything. I would have to answer all the questions. Passing on one would make me crazier. They wanted to trap me; nothing is too personal for me not to answer to them. Mrs. Fisher started the first round.
“How old are you Abigail?” easy.
“Sixteen.” That was so bad.
“When is your birthday?”
“January 8th.”
“Do you have any siblings?”
“No, not that I know of.” I bit my tongue as soon as I had muttered the last words, hoping they didn’t catch my remark. Too late.
“What do you mean by that?” Mr. Gates cut in looking up from his notepad.
I took a deep breath, “My dad left when I was six, I haven’t heard from him since.” I swallowed hard as he scribbled in his notepad.
“Did your parents divorce?”
“When I was six.” I was surprised at how calm my voice sounded. I was getting good at showing no emotion.
“Your mother is getting married. Correct?” Mr. Gates was going to be a problem.
“Yes.”
“Do you like your mothers fiancé?” once again he stopped writing to look at me.
“He’s nice.” I clenched my fists, Mr. Gates noticed, “I mean, we’ve gone out to dinner the three of us a couple times and he’s been around.”
Mr. Gates just nodded turning back to his notepad.
As we continued to talk I couldn’t stand cringing at the looks the doctors gave me. They would write their notes whenever I spoke. As if they all knew a secret that I didn’t. They all shared a bond that felt as if I was being strangled. I couldn’t move or shift without feeling like I would be determined depressed by how I sit or the way I talk. My arms were held close to my body, the sleeves of my shirt pulled down over my hands, hoping they didn’t notice I was hiding my scar. The questions kept coming, one after the other; most about my life, where I live, who my friends are, if I liked animals. Some seemed relevant while others seemed random. As if they put them in there to catch me off guard and say something wrong.
An hour later the meeting showed signs of ending. Mr. Gates and Mrs. Fisher closed their notebooks and waited for Ms Cheryl to speak. “Abigail, you did very well in this session. We will have sessions like this once a month, usually around the time you would move up a level in our program. We can not release you until you have reached level eight. The process usually takes a minimum of six months, though we usually have each student for closer to one year and over. It is up to you and based on your improvement when you get leveled up. Infractions against the staff, yourself, or other students can result in losing a level. You show no signs of hostility so after your first preliminary week you will be raised to level 1, where you can be with other students in your level.” I looked at the doctors and nodded, filing this information in my mind for later thought, all I could think in that moment; I have to get out.
Dinner came with me sitting in my room doing nothing. Having not gained my next level I was stuck. My belongings had passed inspection but I still could not receive them until I reached level one. And even then I couldn’t use most of it. My only options right now were to either journal my experiences in the journal Mrs. Fisher gave me or sit on my bed doing nothing. I had so far made myself look perfectly behaved. I would gain each level quickly and be out of here as soon as I could. They can’t stop me from cutting. I still can, I have my hiding places. They won’t catch me. But I can’t until I’m at least level two. Until then I’m monitored at all times. I looked up into the right corner of my cell. The red light from the recording camera smiled back at me. The clock on the wall said it was only eight o’clock, to me it felt later. So I crawled under the sheets and let the first day become a memory.
After two days of pretending I was already mentally and physically dead. I don’t begin medication until level one when they determine what is best for me and what they think is my problem. So far I’ve gotten them to believe I was just depressed from my father leaving me. In truth I couldn’t care less. He means nothing, he left me. For another family, it seems like that’s what always happens. Mother just got remarried. Eric Wallach, my new step-father. The sound of that feels weird, step-father. I haven’t had a father since I was six. Even then it was only when he wanted me to get him a beer from the fridge. By age three I knew the difference between a bud light and Heineken. He wasn’t an alcoholic or anything. He actually could have been an alright father. He just lacked the emotional connection. It wasn’t like I was his daughter. I was just the kid that was born due to my parent’s lack of birth control.
My parents were college lovers. I say that because I really don’t think any love was involved in my conception, just rampant teenage hormones. Having just moved out of their parent’s house and into dorms on campus able to do whatever they wanted with they’re parents not around. They met freshman year and started dating, by the time they graduated I was a year old and they were married.
See, my grandparents are devout Catholic and when they heard Joan was pregnant it was either get married or move out so of course they went to a court and made it official. I got my father’s last name and that’s all I’ll ever have of him. I think it’s the only thing I like about him. Abigail Heather Weatherly named after no special one, just a name they found in a baby book. I doubt my father ever thinks about me anymore. My fathers parents still send me cards for the holidays, mainly money. I could use some of that right now; buy me a bus ticket out of here. I wonder if I could pay one of those guards to let me out. If there weren’t so many locks and cameras I could get out easily. I’ve always had a talent at being unnoticed. I don’t think anyone at school has realized I left yet. My books are still in my locker, the project I was supposed to turn in the day I got admitted is sitting on my desk in my room.
School was easy; I just had to sit there, take notes and listen. I talked enough for people to deem me as normal and therefore too boring to pay attention to. I didn’t want to be interesting, that would cause me to have to actually try. All anyone talks about in high school these days are of parties from the weekend and what people did when the police came to break it up. I never would believe the lengths underage teens would go to just to get smashed and feel like crap the next day. Granted I went to a few of those same parties I was never drinking and was always the designated driver. If I wanted to drink I would rather do it in a smaller group. Not with half the school crammed into someone’s house with music blasting. That’s pretty much just an invitation for the cops to come and give everyone one-hundred hours of community service not to mention a record. I’ve had many parties with the group I hung out with. We’d usually just go to Carries house because she lived in the ritzy neighborhood and her parents let her move into their newly renovated pool house. Her boyfriend was twenty-two so he would come over and bring whatever we felt like that having night. Those were the nights I really was able to feel normal and maybe a little tipsy.
I don’t know why just ever since I was little life seemed, well pointless. We’re born; we live, and then die. So why not just cut to the chase and get it over a little sooner, instead of paying for me to go to college my mother can just pay for my funeral. If she didn’t want that she could just put me in the fire, turn me to dust, and use my erne of ashes as an accent for her fireplace. It won’t bother me. I’ll be gone.
These last two days here I’ve learned a lot. Pam was once a school teacher and has three kids all in college or working. She seems like she actually cares about all the students, which is what all the deranged kids are called. As if this is just a high security boarding school. The only places I’m allowed to be as level zero is my cell, Mrs. Fisher, and Mr. Gates offices. I get tutored sitting at my desk with plain book work. They’re evaluating me giving me random tests in different subjects.
Back at my high school I was in the average classes and two AP classes only because my guidance counselor told me that I really should take them and not wanting to disappoint her I agreed. So other than AP US history and AP Lit I had the basic junior schedule. Though I have a feeling they’re not going to let me take the easy track here. From the work they’ve been giving me I just hope they don’t make me take calculus. I am definitely not ready for that.
Mr. Gates I think is going to be my biggest challenge. He makes me feel like I’m always doing something wrong. I sit in his office while he studies me. Answering every question he asks correctly. Out of the other counselors he is the most persistent; he keeps asking me loaded questions about my life. It feels that if I say the wrong thing he’s going to jump and get me locked in solitary confinement which I heard that they do have here. I’ve seen the hallway, you have to go through two separate doors, both locked and the only way to get through them is with a badge. All the rooms are locked, some with old fashioned key locks and others with badge swipes. I can’t even get into the bathroom without Pam unlocking it for me. What makes it even more humiliating is that i can’t shave my legs until I’m at least level one. I have two more days until Ms. Cheryl is going to review my progress and my primaries will level me up. It’s really not too hard to gain levels here. I just act like I know what I did was wrong and it was a mistake. Which it was, I should have locked that bathroom door. That was my mistake. I’ll never make that one again when I get my next chance.
“Dinner is here.” Pam walked into my room.
She had let me keep my door open while I read a book called, “Self Awareness” that Ms. Cheryl had given me. It was boring but I needed something to do. This was free time for all other levels before group. I dread when I have to start group. “How’s the book?” Pam smiled at me waiting for my answer.
“Eh, I’ve read better. But it’s better than staring at the wall.” I forced a laugh.
“Well don’t worry about nothing to do; soon you’re going to wish you had this much free time. Level zero is the easiest. It only gets tougher from here.” Joy.
Putting down the book I picked up the try of food and looked at it. I really had no desire to eat. But the camera was watching, I had to eat or else I’d look unresponsive. I took a bite, then another.
It was only pizza, fries, a cookie, and a glass of water. I had to eat this then go to Pam’s station and receive my meds. They had only started giving me medication this morning. I could already feel my energy draining from my body. I found myself staring at the wall zoned out; book in hand when Pam came in with lunch. By now my morning dose had worn off and I was finally able to really think. I didn’t like it, thinking these days have just become pointless. I had experimented many times with different medications. My mother had some vicodin that she had for her back. Every now and then I’d take some and my mind would become fog. I would just sit on my bed, knife lying on the towel next to me. No one would be home of course and I would just get lost in the moment, sometimes having to scramble to put everything back in place when I heard my mother come home from work.
“You have been showing improvement in this last week Abigail.” I sat legs crossed hands in my lap smiling listening to Ms Cheryl speak.
It had been a week since I was admitted. Too long already but I smiled anyways hoping it would get me my next level. “The three of us have spoken privately and we think that you are ready for level one. Which means that right after this you will be moved into a room with another student and the two of you will live together for the rest of your stay as long as we don’t have to de-level any of you.” Finally, I had been waiting for her to say this. I nodded in agreement.
My arms ached, having not done anything since a couple hours before being admitted I was literally dying inside. The meds had helped keep me sane with no place I could go without being watched. Now as a level one I could shave my legs, but only while Pam watched and as soon as I finished she would take it away. I felt like a child. I was smarter than using a used razor, my stash was still hidden at home. In the space under my dresser, I had found it when I was younger. Before all this, I would hide candy and little toys under there. Then my toys became more secretive things. I had everything I needed to keep my stuff clean. I’ve never had a problem with infections. “You do not have any meetings with us today after this one, instead you will get to know your new class and will start group tomorrow. By the way you’ve acted this last week you might be out of here in no time.” Mrs. Fisher smiled at me; I smiled back, I had them fooled I was practically free.
“I’m Taylor. Who are you?” my new roommate introduced herself when I walked in.
This room was double the size of my old room with two double beds on either side. The walls this time a pastel green. “I’m Abigail.” I smiled trying to seem nice.
“What are you in for?” I almost laughed at how it sounded like we were in prison.
“Nothing really, my mother just hates me.”
“Yeah, sure that’s what they all say. I was stuck in level one until I admitted why I was here. That took two months. I know better now. I would admit it soon if you want to get out of here.” I laughed; we were going to get along just fine.
“I used to cut, I had an accident and my mother freaked out and sent me here.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you Abigail.” She went back to reading her book.
“So why are you here?” I couldn’t let her know why I was here without knowing her story.
“Same as you, along with some mild eating disorders.” She said this without looking at me, as if it was old news and didn’t care. Though I could tell there was more to the story. But that was fine. We were going to be stuck together, for a long time.
With Taylor having a higher level than me I made sure to get on her good side. She explained how this wasn’t a normal rehabilitation center. Most of those types of facilities didn’t have as much security. This place was for the high security and mentally instable. Half the building was given to young adults, ages ranging thirteen to twenty to deal with different problems like drugs, eating disorders, self-injury, depression, mental illness, everything else society see’s as wrong. Then the other half of the building housed adults twenty one and up for all cases, Taylor even mentioned some branch where prisoners are held here to be detoxed before being shipped off to prison or juvenile detention in some cases. This makes me feel safe having locks on our door.
“Are you coming to dinner?” Taylor walked into the room from her one-on-one session with her counselor.
“Yeah I guess.” I slowly got off the bed, scared what to expect in a building full of delinquents.
“Taylor! Over here.” A guy yelled to her motioning her to the table, I followed behind her holding my dinner tray not sure what to do.
“Who’s the new meat?” one of the new faces at the table said when we sat down.
“Oh, my new roommate, Abigail this is Trevor, Lexis, Blake, Chloe, and Nathan. Everyone this Abigail, she’s still level one.” I nodded at everyone as she told me their names
This place seemed more like a high school cafeteria, and the food was way better than what I was given in solitary confinement. That’s what they all call it here. The week of hell or in Chloe’s case two weeks of hell. The group that Taylor hung out with seemed pretty chill. They didn’t talk about anything un-normal. It sounded like a conversation I would have had with my old group. Nathan, Trevor, and Lexis were all level two like Taylor the rest were still level ones. Trevor himself has been stuck here going on three months and not gotten promoted to level three. This might take longer than I thought. “So are you going to stay zoned out?” I looked up from my half eaten lasagna.
“Huh?” I felt stupid as soon as I realized I’d zoned out.
“It’s Saturday, we get a movie night at eight. If we get there early we get to sit in back.”
“Oh.” if I didn’t go I’d seem unfriendly and I was sure Mr. Gates would love to sabotage me, “Yeah I’ll go.” I tried to smile but it looked more like a weird frown.
Movie night was unexpectedly entertaining. No one really watched the movie, everyone in the back we’re mainly using the two allotted hours as a free time. I don’t even know what we were watching, I was too interested in finding out more of what goes on in this place. No one really talks about why they are here. They say that’s why they have an hour and a half of group where they have to detail their experiences with the rest of the group. Trevor told me that its better not to talk about what happens in group. I’m half scared to go tomorrow. It’s a good thing they believe in medication here or I would be trying much harder to get out of here.
“Wake up, breakfast is in ten minutes.” I heard Taylors voice but I didn’t want to wake up. I knew what to expect after breakfast, group. Which meant I had to talk about myself to everyone.
“I’m up. Give me a second.” I sat up grabbing a long sleeved shirt on the chair next to my bed. I would tell people about my problem but I was not about to show it to them.
One thing I was always good at was hiding and lying. It got to the point that even if I told the truth people would assume I was being sarcastic. So I let them think that. No one knew I cut, I would only do it when I was alone and I made sure that I had enough supplies to keep them clean and away from peoples eyes. Wrists were a great place to start, but only during the winter. Sweatshirts and long sleeves are a dead giveaway during the summer. The key is to not cut deep where people can see. I usually stuck to my thighs where no one thinks twice about. But those tend to scar quicker. During the summer all I have to do is wear boy shorts instead of regular bikini bottoms and a bikini top. Since I can show that much skin no one would ever get suspicious.
“You ready for group?” Nathan sat down next to me with his tray of french toast, eggs, and sausage.
“Don’t remind me, when do they hand out meds?” I asked trying to change the subject.
“After group. They make sure we’re sane when we have to spill our souls, then they turn us to zombies. I tried skipping my meds once and I got sent to solitary for a day. I just wanted to be able to think straight.” Lexis said not looking up from her eggs.
“Don’t let them know that you want the meds so much, they can use that as a reason to keep you here.” Trevor looked up from his tray.
“I just don’t know what to do in group. I’m more of a private person.” That was true, I hate telling people my problems. All it does is lead to more problems.
“Just answer all of Mr. Gates questions. He likes doing these partner games too. Just go along with it. One thing we all learn very early is that there is no privacy here. We all know too much about each other in our group and there’s no way to get around that if we want to get out. They are good about making each group the same group you have the whole time so you don’t have to tell the world your problems, but that still means that seven other ears get to hear your stories.” Blake said.
“So I’m going to be with all of you? Whose the seventh person?” I asked.
“This guy Steven, he’s a level three. We never really see him out of group. He’s one of Mr. Gates favorite to question.” Lexis mentioned
“Yeah he never fails Mr. Gates. He tries to one up Mr. Gates all the time but Mr. Gates is cold.” Taylor looked at me as she said this.
“Yeah when he talked to me in my preliminary session he seemed to see right through me.” I shivered when I remembered how he seemed to ask all the tough questions not caring how personal.
“Welcome to group therapy, today we have a new face here that by the looks of it you already know. Abigail would you like to start us out by telling us why you’re here today?” he sure doesn’t wait till your ready.
“Um…okay. What do you want me to say?”
“What did you do that made you be admitted here?” I thought I was a student. Now they put us in our place.
The room was silent, everyone waiting on my answer. I looked at Taylor, she half smiled at me as if she knew what I was going through, and I guess they did. They all at one time were new in group and had to go through Mr. Gates mercy less questioning. “I cut too deep and got sent to the hospital and my mother decided I needed help so she wanted me to go here.” I held my breath waiting for Mr. Gates to speak.
“Are you sure you were just cutting like any other day or was this one different than the rest?”
“What do you mean?”
“The hospital sent their finding on when you were admitted to them and they charted it as attempted suicide.” I thought they had no proof.
“It wasn’t, I didn’t mean for it to happen that way.”
“So instead you wanted it to go a different way? Did you want to instead be found by your mother lying on the bathroom floor dead?” He really doesn’t care what the rest hear.
I looked at the others for some type of smile. None of them could meet my eyes.
“I never meant for anything like that to happen it just did. I made a mistake, I should have been more careful.”
“So you can cut yourself carefully?” great now I’d done it, he was winning.
“Yes, well kind of.” I gave up. Tears were trying to betray me.
One thing I hated more than anything was crying. I hadn’t cried since I started cutting three years ago. Cutting kept me strong and I didn’t need tears. But having not cut since I got here everything I’ve known has been changing. I needed to cut and soon.
“Thank you Abigail. We can go back to your story next time. Now I think that we should get into our partner exercise for the day. I want everyone to partner up guy and girl.”
I looked around the room, Nathan looked at me as if he would be my partner, “Abigail, I actually want you to go with Steven.” Nathan looked away as soon as Mr. Gates spoke knowing it wasn’t worth resisting.
“Alright.” I looked over to Steven who I hadn’t noticed till now.
He was cute, but not in the teenage angst way. The bags under his eyes made him look older than he really was but his eyes were the lightest, purest green I had ever seen. I smiled as he walked over and sat down next to me. “Hi.” he mumbled waiting for Mr. Gates to tell us the exercise.
“Now this is going to be different, since we have an even number of people now. I want you two look at your partner and tell them the one thing that’s on your mind, the one thing that eats away at you until you can’t take it anymore. Go.” Mr. Gates continued walking around the room, glancing every once and a while at me.
I looked at Steven, “So do you want to go first or shall I?” I looked at my hands to avoid looking directly at him.
“I’ll go… um.” he looked around the room as if trying to find the right words, “I really don’t think group is much of a help, especially with Gates breathing down our backs. He can’t help me.” He exhaled loudly as if that took all his energy.
What do I say to that? He was truthful, I could tell that’s really what was on his mind. There was no way I could tell the truth, “I wish I hadn’t gotten caught. I just needed another five minutes not even.” I stopped covering my mouth with my hands.
Had I really just said that? I don’t know why I chose to tell the truth but it just sort of came out. I looked around the room, everyone was talking with their partners and here we were sitting awkwardly not sure what to say. Of course Mr. Gates was staring straight at us. “I..um..I didn’t mean to say that.” I looked at the floor wishing I could become part of it.
“Of course you didn’t, it’s your first day. You’ll get used to it. We all do. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone what you said. It’s one thing that we are all good about. Anything said here we don’t repeat ever.” He sounded so sure.
“Why are you here? You seem, too normal?” I bit my tongue on the last word.
“Your one to talk, you don’t strike me as the misfit type. One thing to keep in mind is that no one is really what they look like.” His smile faded, showing the wrinkles of stress that creased his forehead.
“Sorry I’m still trying to figure out this place.”
“Alright times up. Would anyone like to share now what they have on their mind?” No, he cannot call on me, “Taylor?”
“I just got a letter from my sister a couple days ago and she’s never really talked to me since I got sent here. It was just a surprise is all.” I could tell there was more to what she was saying but Mr. Gates didn’t push it, that’s a first.
“Good, that’s great. Now I’m going to end this session early and let you off to your free time so I can fill out some new paperwork, Steven can I see you after?” Steven didn’t look intimidated at all; in fact he seemed sort of excited.
I walked into the game room with Taylor and everyone. With group ending early it gave us twenty minutes before our nature hike started. They had every hour planned out so neatly so that it gave me no time alone. In fact I haven’t been truly alone since that episode in my bathroom. Since then I’ve always been under someone’s watch. I was still able to cut somewhat whenever I could slip into the bathroom. I’d turn on the shower and let it run a while before I really got in. It’s not like I ever did it for attention. If that was the case then I would have been caught years ago. But I never meant for this to even happen. I have it under control, I know how to control it, and it doesn’t control me. I haven’t done anything since a couple hours before I got here. I had stuck the pocket knife in my bag but decided against bringing it in. If I want to be seen as misunderstood, how can I bring a knife into a rehab institution? That’s just not smart. So I haven’t done anything for the last week and a half. I miss it, of course I miss it. But so far the meds they’ve given me have put me in this dream like state for the past couple days. Yet its when I drift into that dream like coma I think about what I want.
I never told anyone about my hobby. I wasn’t popular but I wasn’t a loner. I paid attention in school and kept up appearances. My absence is probably going unnoticed. I haven’t gotten any letters from anyone, not even my mother. Who is probably having a second honeymoon right now trying to forget I ever existed. Fine by me as long as she doesn’t try to come back here and act like my mother.
“Here’s your schedule for classes Abigail. Tomorrow morning you will start class with everyone else.” Ms Cheryl smiled handing me a blue piece of paper.
It was official I was now a student at Camp Greenwood. They had given me pretty much the same schedule I had back home thankfully. Amazingly I still had two college classes that I would have to keep up with. “Any questions?” Ms Cheryl looked at me expectantly.
“No I think I can figure it all out. Thank you.” I smiled trying to act friendly; waiting till Ms Cheryl turned and walked away.
“So did you get any good classes?” Taylor walked up taking the blue paper out of my hand.
“Mostly the things that I took before, back home.” I shrugged not really caring about them.
“Oh bug shot with all those college classes. They put me in Comp English too. But you have fun with your AP Government class. I hate history.” She laughed handing my schedule back to me.
“So you have English same time as me?”
“Yes Ma’am. I think you have a couple classes with Lexis and Nathan. Are you thinking about applying for the extra night class?”
“Extra classes? I just got here.”
“Well it’s more like a way to graduate early. We move pretty fast around here and how ever much you pass you don’t have to do when you get back to your old school, or you could just graduate here. That’s what I’m doing. There’s no chance I’m going to get out by the end of the year so I’m doing everything I can to be able to not have to go back.”
“That sounds cool, I might do that. I bet my mother would love to not have to take me back.” I tried to sound as if that didn’t phase me but if she could tell she didn’t mention it.
____________________________________________________
Okayy so thats what I have sooooo far!! Let me know what you think!! Thank you!
-Lizz
“Are you listening to me?”
My mind fell back to reality. We drove over the bridge, leaving the gleaming water behind. It looked so welcoming. It was certainly better than the place I was headed. Ignoring my mothers request for attention I kept my back turned, hopelessly staring out the window. After all, it was her doing that brought me here in the first place.
Texas, or rather Camp Greenwood, located right smack in the middle of nowhere. We’ve been driving for the last three days from Blackstone PA. Why she is sending me halfway across the country is beyond me. I figure she just wants me out of her professionally dyed hair. That way her and her new husband can start their own family, void of the troubled step-daughter.
My junior year is utterly ruined. Having left with six months still remaining in the year, it will have to be continued at Greenwood. I can see it now; a brightly lit classroom full of deranged kids whose parents couldn’t handle them. Ankles chained to the desk with a retired military sergeant for a teacher. By playing the “I have no idea why I’m here, I’m innocent card.” I’ll be out before Christmas. It works every time. At least, it use to before the accident.
It really was an accident. How was I supposed to know that the knife was that sharp? Well, I knew, but I didn’t think I’d go so deep. Of course, with my luck, I went a bit too far and ended up passing out, blood pooled on the tile floor, staining my turquoise bath mat. If my mother hadn’t gotten home from work early, no one would have caught me. I wouldn’t be here right now. I’d be history, and that’s just how I like it. I wonder how Greenwood is going to finish out my schooling. I shouldn’t be stuck here for more than a month. I know how to put on a show.
“Here we are.” my mothers cold voice broke the welcomed silence.
I looked up to see a massive metal gate opening to let us enter. It didn’t even look like a camp; there weren’t even any trees. This was my new prison. My mother pulled up to a booth, handed a note to the security guard, who then waved us through the inner gate. This is way worse than prison. I don’t see myself making lanyards or swimming in a pond. I will more likely get stuck making license plates and breaking rocks with a hammer.
Greenwood looked like an old fortress for the Confederacy. It towered above me like my life was about to end. Had there been lightning and a torrential downpour it would have fit nicely. The windows were barred, so that anyone locked inside stayed there. I looked up and could see in multiple rooms faces staring out the window, at me. This was supposed to be my new home. I got out of the car.
“Welcome to Camp Greenwood. I’m Ms. Cheryl.” A woman greeted my mother as we stepped out of the car. She turned to me; “You must be Abigail.” she smiled shaking my hand, and then looked at my mother, “Hello Mrs. Wallach, we have everything ready.”
“Call me Joan” I almost gagged at my mother’s voice. She always had a way to change her mood when company was around.
“Well, Joan. Abigail, I can assure you will be safe here. As you can see we have state of the art security with around the clock surveillance.”
Cheryl began leading us to her office where my mother had the joy to sign the official papers granting the institution custody over me. I couldn’t help but notice at how my mother checked her diamond encrusted wrist watch every other minute and glancing at her new two carat diamond wedding ring wishing to be rid of me. Not too long after, I was saying goodbye, suitcases in hand, watching her drive off. “Well we must get you to your room; dinner is in an hour. You will have no roommates for the first week then depending on your progress you will be allowed to move in with another student.”
From there I was brought to a small cube shaped room, my belongings confiscated. They had to make sure I didn’t try to sneak any weapons that could harm me or anyone else. The best way for me to get out of this place is to try to kill the staff; yeah great idea, although the idea of offing myself does seem a bit tempting. Which is probably why they took everything -including my new pair of dark purple converse- in exchange for a pair of slate gray slip-on-slippers, gray sweatpants, and a gray long sleeved shirt. It’s not like I was about to hang myself with my foot long shoelaces. Seriously, I’m twisted, but not that twisted. My best bet is just to save up the meds they give me here and then take those all at once. But I better stop fantasizing before I get myself too excited.
Settling into my cot, I surveyed the room. It was an unusual shade of light blue-like on in a baby’s nursery- as if they thought white would drive me insane. This was going to be my home for the next unforeseeable future, unless I had something to say about it. I don’t have a problem, so I don’t deserve to be here. Everything was under control. It’s my business what I do with my body, not some doctor that took a couple classes and read a few books. They don’t know who I am. No one does.
Laying my head on the pillow, I closed my eyes, wishing this was a dream. But of course, when I opened my eyes, everything was still there. I was still there.
“Knock knock, can I come in?” I heard a woman’s voice outside my door followed by a click, a lock. I was locked in. Great.
“Here’s your dinner, I thought you might be hungry.” The woman came in and put a tray of food on the desk in the corner.
“I don’t eat in the cafeteria?”
“Why you just got here and haven’t reached that level. Patience and in a week you should be allowed to join the rest of the students.” She smiled as if she really meant what she was saying. It made me sick.
I nodded and didn’t say anything else, waiting for her to leave. Finally after a minute of awkward silence she got up and left locking the door behind her. Not wanting to seem uncooperative I went over to the desk and looked at the food. It didn’t seem so bad. It smelled edible. Definitely frozen but edible. There were no utensils which explained why all the food could be eaten without.
I had just finished my dinner when there was another knock on my door. Cheryl came into my room. “Just wanted to check in on you before I go to group; you won’t be starting group until next week as long as your personal sessions go well. I see that you have already eaten which is a good sign. Most people that come refuse to eat, which keeps them stuck on level 0 until they improve.” She shifted as if she needed to leave but kept talking. “Tomorrow you will meet with me and some other doctors to discuss your schooling and path that you wish to take while here. We’ll cover that all tomorrow. So I better get going. Pam, the woman that brought you dinner will come to get you in the morning. If you wish to shower or ever have to go to the bathroom you must see her, she will be stationed outside the hall at her desk. If you need her just knock on the door and she’ll be right with you. Have a good night Abigail.” With that she left, locking me back into the prison cell for the night.
Not wanting to be any trouble I got into bed. It was already almost ten and I hadn’t slept much in the car. Within ten minutes I was fast asleep, allowing the nightmares to take over my mind. But still I didn’t want to wake up; I preferred my nightmares to reality any day.
“Wake up Abigail, breakfast is here.” Pam walked into my room carrying a tray of hot food, which smelled pretty good.
I sat up in bed nodding to acknowledge her presence. “Now eat quickly because in about thirty minutes you have your first personal session with Cheryl. I’ll be back to get you in about twenty-five minutes.” And with that she left the room, I noticed the door didn’t lock this time. Maybe they didn’t think I was so messed up after all.
Fifteen minutes later I was showered and dressed in the same outfit as the night before. I sat on my cot waiting for Pam to get back and take me where I had to go. My main goal now is to answer all the questions right. I was use to this. After the accident at the hospital I was being asked questions by everyone; doctors, nurses, physciatrist. They all had their own views of me yet no one really knew me.
I remember when I first woke up in the hospital. My arm was stiff, twenty pure black stitches curved down my arm, allowing everyone to see what I had done. My arms and legs held tight in restraints as if I would try to run now. I knew how to play this game. I had always wondered what I would do if this happened. I figured my best action was to do nothing. Answer the questions and move on with it. It really didn’t matter what I had to say, my arm spoke for me. I was crazy either way.
“Ready for your first meeting?” Pam stood next to my cot.
“Yes.” My voice came out steady as if I was perfectly fine, when inside I was ready to break down.
Walking behind Pam I followed her down hallways to a conference room. Ms Cheryl and two other staff members sat in black leather swivel chairs around a large wood table. They each sat with files open, each immersed in some aspect of my history. “Please take a seat Abigail.” Ms Cheryl looked up from the papers motioning to the only other chair in the room.
I sat down, smiling at the doctors trying to keep my composure. One thing I hated was meetings. I had enough at the hospital I was in. I was never admitted to the psych ward but the doctors from the psych ward visited me. Trying to find evidence to get me locked up. I dodged every question and in the end I was released.
I analyzed the doctors. The woman next to Ms Cheryl looked young, as if she was new to this field of work. Still naïve to the deception I hold. Though the man to the left seemed cold, his eyes held storied I couldn’t read. While he didn’t look older than forty he had short gray silver hair making him older. I would answer all the questions they wanted me to answer. Though I wouldn’t necessarily answer them truthfully, one thing I learned a long time ago was that no one wanted to hear the truth. Tell them what they wanted to hear and they’ll be happier than if I would have told the truth. Ms Cheryl began the meeting.
“Thank you for being so cooperative Abigail, as you have been told this is your first level zero meeting.” I nodded, unaware what level zero meant.
The woman beside Ms Cheryl spoke, “I am Mrs. Fisher, your primary one on one counselor. This meeting is here so the three of us can get to know and understand you better.” I tried not to gag. No one has ever taken the time to get to know me; at least no one that has ever mattered.
At my high school I had friends. People I would talk to, hang out with, sometimes I would even sleep over at their houses. But no one really cared though. They were my friends but if I never showed up to a party they wouldn’t think twice. I was merely in the background; which is exactly how I like it.
“Now Abigail, by the end of this meeting we will be able to decide the right course of action to be taken and what type of curriculum you will be taught. I’m Mr. Gates your group therapy counselor.” Great not only will I have a one on one therapy session but also a group session. The last thing I need is to listen to other kids sob about their horrible lives.
“The three of us will be working with each other as your primary doctors. Your file will be open only to us and the pharmacy. Your duration of stay here is all dependent on you.” Ms Cheryl smiled as if I were here for summer camp and not against my will. If it were dependent on me I would be in second period biology; listening to my teacher drone on about the different kingdoms.”
“Now we are going to ask you some questions that we would like to know. If you don’t feel comfortable answering just say pass.”
I sat back in my chair ready for anything. I would have to answer all the questions. Passing on one would make me crazier. They wanted to trap me; nothing is too personal for me not to answer to them. Mrs. Fisher started the first round.
“How old are you Abigail?” easy.
“Sixteen.” That was so bad.
“When is your birthday?”
“January 8th.”
“Do you have any siblings?”
“No, not that I know of.” I bit my tongue as soon as I had muttered the last words, hoping they didn’t catch my remark. Too late.
“What do you mean by that?” Mr. Gates cut in looking up from his notepad.
I took a deep breath, “My dad left when I was six, I haven’t heard from him since.” I swallowed hard as he scribbled in his notepad.
“Did your parents divorce?”
“When I was six.” I was surprised at how calm my voice sounded. I was getting good at showing no emotion.
“Your mother is getting married. Correct?” Mr. Gates was going to be a problem.
“Yes.”
“Do you like your mothers fiancé?” once again he stopped writing to look at me.
“He’s nice.” I clenched my fists, Mr. Gates noticed, “I mean, we’ve gone out to dinner the three of us a couple times and he’s been around.”
Mr. Gates just nodded turning back to his notepad.
As we continued to talk I couldn’t stand cringing at the looks the doctors gave me. They would write their notes whenever I spoke. As if they all knew a secret that I didn’t. They all shared a bond that felt as if I was being strangled. I couldn’t move or shift without feeling like I would be determined depressed by how I sit or the way I talk. My arms were held close to my body, the sleeves of my shirt pulled down over my hands, hoping they didn’t notice I was hiding my scar. The questions kept coming, one after the other; most about my life, where I live, who my friends are, if I liked animals. Some seemed relevant while others seemed random. As if they put them in there to catch me off guard and say something wrong.
An hour later the meeting showed signs of ending. Mr. Gates and Mrs. Fisher closed their notebooks and waited for Ms Cheryl to speak. “Abigail, you did very well in this session. We will have sessions like this once a month, usually around the time you would move up a level in our program. We can not release you until you have reached level eight. The process usually takes a minimum of six months, though we usually have each student for closer to one year and over. It is up to you and based on your improvement when you get leveled up. Infractions against the staff, yourself, or other students can result in losing a level. You show no signs of hostility so after your first preliminary week you will be raised to level 1, where you can be with other students in your level.” I looked at the doctors and nodded, filing this information in my mind for later thought, all I could think in that moment; I have to get out.
Dinner came with me sitting in my room doing nothing. Having not gained my next level I was stuck. My belongings had passed inspection but I still could not receive them until I reached level one. And even then I couldn’t use most of it. My only options right now were to either journal my experiences in the journal Mrs. Fisher gave me or sit on my bed doing nothing. I had so far made myself look perfectly behaved. I would gain each level quickly and be out of here as soon as I could. They can’t stop me from cutting. I still can, I have my hiding places. They won’t catch me. But I can’t until I’m at least level two. Until then I’m monitored at all times. I looked up into the right corner of my cell. The red light from the recording camera smiled back at me. The clock on the wall said it was only eight o’clock, to me it felt later. So I crawled under the sheets and let the first day become a memory.
After two days of pretending I was already mentally and physically dead. I don’t begin medication until level one when they determine what is best for me and what they think is my problem. So far I’ve gotten them to believe I was just depressed from my father leaving me. In truth I couldn’t care less. He means nothing, he left me. For another family, it seems like that’s what always happens. Mother just got remarried. Eric Wallach, my new step-father. The sound of that feels weird, step-father. I haven’t had a father since I was six. Even then it was only when he wanted me to get him a beer from the fridge. By age three I knew the difference between a bud light and Heineken. He wasn’t an alcoholic or anything. He actually could have been an alright father. He just lacked the emotional connection. It wasn’t like I was his daughter. I was just the kid that was born due to my parent’s lack of birth control.
My parents were college lovers. I say that because I really don’t think any love was involved in my conception, just rampant teenage hormones. Having just moved out of their parent’s house and into dorms on campus able to do whatever they wanted with they’re parents not around. They met freshman year and started dating, by the time they graduated I was a year old and they were married.
See, my grandparents are devout Catholic and when they heard Joan was pregnant it was either get married or move out so of course they went to a court and made it official. I got my father’s last name and that’s all I’ll ever have of him. I think it’s the only thing I like about him. Abigail Heather Weatherly named after no special one, just a name they found in a baby book. I doubt my father ever thinks about me anymore. My fathers parents still send me cards for the holidays, mainly money. I could use some of that right now; buy me a bus ticket out of here. I wonder if I could pay one of those guards to let me out. If there weren’t so many locks and cameras I could get out easily. I’ve always had a talent at being unnoticed. I don’t think anyone at school has realized I left yet. My books are still in my locker, the project I was supposed to turn in the day I got admitted is sitting on my desk in my room.
School was easy; I just had to sit there, take notes and listen. I talked enough for people to deem me as normal and therefore too boring to pay attention to. I didn’t want to be interesting, that would cause me to have to actually try. All anyone talks about in high school these days are of parties from the weekend and what people did when the police came to break it up. I never would believe the lengths underage teens would go to just to get smashed and feel like crap the next day. Granted I went to a few of those same parties I was never drinking and was always the designated driver. If I wanted to drink I would rather do it in a smaller group. Not with half the school crammed into someone’s house with music blasting. That’s pretty much just an invitation for the cops to come and give everyone one-hundred hours of community service not to mention a record. I’ve had many parties with the group I hung out with. We’d usually just go to Carries house because she lived in the ritzy neighborhood and her parents let her move into their newly renovated pool house. Her boyfriend was twenty-two so he would come over and bring whatever we felt like that having night. Those were the nights I really was able to feel normal and maybe a little tipsy.
I don’t know why just ever since I was little life seemed, well pointless. We’re born; we live, and then die. So why not just cut to the chase and get it over a little sooner, instead of paying for me to go to college my mother can just pay for my funeral. If she didn’t want that she could just put me in the fire, turn me to dust, and use my erne of ashes as an accent for her fireplace. It won’t bother me. I’ll be gone.
These last two days here I’ve learned a lot. Pam was once a school teacher and has three kids all in college or working. She seems like she actually cares about all the students, which is what all the deranged kids are called. As if this is just a high security boarding school. The only places I’m allowed to be as level zero is my cell, Mrs. Fisher, and Mr. Gates offices. I get tutored sitting at my desk with plain book work. They’re evaluating me giving me random tests in different subjects.
Back at my high school I was in the average classes and two AP classes only because my guidance counselor told me that I really should take them and not wanting to disappoint her I agreed. So other than AP US history and AP Lit I had the basic junior schedule. Though I have a feeling they’re not going to let me take the easy track here. From the work they’ve been giving me I just hope they don’t make me take calculus. I am definitely not ready for that.
Mr. Gates I think is going to be my biggest challenge. He makes me feel like I’m always doing something wrong. I sit in his office while he studies me. Answering every question he asks correctly. Out of the other counselors he is the most persistent; he keeps asking me loaded questions about my life. It feels that if I say the wrong thing he’s going to jump and get me locked in solitary confinement which I heard that they do have here. I’ve seen the hallway, you have to go through two separate doors, both locked and the only way to get through them is with a badge. All the rooms are locked, some with old fashioned key locks and others with badge swipes. I can’t even get into the bathroom without Pam unlocking it for me. What makes it even more humiliating is that i can’t shave my legs until I’m at least level one. I have two more days until Ms. Cheryl is going to review my progress and my primaries will level me up. It’s really not too hard to gain levels here. I just act like I know what I did was wrong and it was a mistake. Which it was, I should have locked that bathroom door. That was my mistake. I’ll never make that one again when I get my next chance.
“Dinner is here.” Pam walked into my room.
She had let me keep my door open while I read a book called, “Self Awareness” that Ms. Cheryl had given me. It was boring but I needed something to do. This was free time for all other levels before group. I dread when I have to start group. “How’s the book?” Pam smiled at me waiting for my answer.
“Eh, I’ve read better. But it’s better than staring at the wall.” I forced a laugh.
“Well don’t worry about nothing to do; soon you’re going to wish you had this much free time. Level zero is the easiest. It only gets tougher from here.” Joy.
Putting down the book I picked up the try of food and looked at it. I really had no desire to eat. But the camera was watching, I had to eat or else I’d look unresponsive. I took a bite, then another.
It was only pizza, fries, a cookie, and a glass of water. I had to eat this then go to Pam’s station and receive my meds. They had only started giving me medication this morning. I could already feel my energy draining from my body. I found myself staring at the wall zoned out; book in hand when Pam came in with lunch. By now my morning dose had worn off and I was finally able to really think. I didn’t like it, thinking these days have just become pointless. I had experimented many times with different medications. My mother had some vicodin that she had for her back. Every now and then I’d take some and my mind would become fog. I would just sit on my bed, knife lying on the towel next to me. No one would be home of course and I would just get lost in the moment, sometimes having to scramble to put everything back in place when I heard my mother come home from work.
“You have been showing improvement in this last week Abigail.” I sat legs crossed hands in my lap smiling listening to Ms Cheryl speak.
It had been a week since I was admitted. Too long already but I smiled anyways hoping it would get me my next level. “The three of us have spoken privately and we think that you are ready for level one. Which means that right after this you will be moved into a room with another student and the two of you will live together for the rest of your stay as long as we don’t have to de-level any of you.” Finally, I had been waiting for her to say this. I nodded in agreement.
My arms ached, having not done anything since a couple hours before being admitted I was literally dying inside. The meds had helped keep me sane with no place I could go without being watched. Now as a level one I could shave my legs, but only while Pam watched and as soon as I finished she would take it away. I felt like a child. I was smarter than using a used razor, my stash was still hidden at home. In the space under my dresser, I had found it when I was younger. Before all this, I would hide candy and little toys under there. Then my toys became more secretive things. I had everything I needed to keep my stuff clean. I’ve never had a problem with infections. “You do not have any meetings with us today after this one, instead you will get to know your new class and will start group tomorrow. By the way you’ve acted this last week you might be out of here in no time.” Mrs. Fisher smiled at me; I smiled back, I had them fooled I was practically free.
“I’m Taylor. Who are you?” my new roommate introduced herself when I walked in.
This room was double the size of my old room with two double beds on either side. The walls this time a pastel green. “I’m Abigail.” I smiled trying to seem nice.
“What are you in for?” I almost laughed at how it sounded like we were in prison.
“Nothing really, my mother just hates me.”
“Yeah, sure that’s what they all say. I was stuck in level one until I admitted why I was here. That took two months. I know better now. I would admit it soon if you want to get out of here.” I laughed; we were going to get along just fine.
“I used to cut, I had an accident and my mother freaked out and sent me here.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you Abigail.” She went back to reading her book.
“So why are you here?” I couldn’t let her know why I was here without knowing her story.
“Same as you, along with some mild eating disorders.” She said this without looking at me, as if it was old news and didn’t care. Though I could tell there was more to the story. But that was fine. We were going to be stuck together, for a long time.
With Taylor having a higher level than me I made sure to get on her good side. She explained how this wasn’t a normal rehabilitation center. Most of those types of facilities didn’t have as much security. This place was for the high security and mentally instable. Half the building was given to young adults, ages ranging thirteen to twenty to deal with different problems like drugs, eating disorders, self-injury, depression, mental illness, everything else society see’s as wrong. Then the other half of the building housed adults twenty one and up for all cases, Taylor even mentioned some branch where prisoners are held here to be detoxed before being shipped off to prison or juvenile detention in some cases. This makes me feel safe having locks on our door.
“Are you coming to dinner?” Taylor walked into the room from her one-on-one session with her counselor.
“Yeah I guess.” I slowly got off the bed, scared what to expect in a building full of delinquents.
“Taylor! Over here.” A guy yelled to her motioning her to the table, I followed behind her holding my dinner tray not sure what to do.
“Who’s the new meat?” one of the new faces at the table said when we sat down.
“Oh, my new roommate, Abigail this is Trevor, Lexis, Blake, Chloe, and Nathan. Everyone this Abigail, she’s still level one.” I nodded at everyone as she told me their names
This place seemed more like a high school cafeteria, and the food was way better than what I was given in solitary confinement. That’s what they all call it here. The week of hell or in Chloe’s case two weeks of hell. The group that Taylor hung out with seemed pretty chill. They didn’t talk about anything un-normal. It sounded like a conversation I would have had with my old group. Nathan, Trevor, and Lexis were all level two like Taylor the rest were still level ones. Trevor himself has been stuck here going on three months and not gotten promoted to level three. This might take longer than I thought. “So are you going to stay zoned out?” I looked up from my half eaten lasagna.
“Huh?” I felt stupid as soon as I realized I’d zoned out.
“It’s Saturday, we get a movie night at eight. If we get there early we get to sit in back.”
“Oh.” if I didn’t go I’d seem unfriendly and I was sure Mr. Gates would love to sabotage me, “Yeah I’ll go.” I tried to smile but it looked more like a weird frown.
Movie night was unexpectedly entertaining. No one really watched the movie, everyone in the back we’re mainly using the two allotted hours as a free time. I don’t even know what we were watching, I was too interested in finding out more of what goes on in this place. No one really talks about why they are here. They say that’s why they have an hour and a half of group where they have to detail their experiences with the rest of the group. Trevor told me that its better not to talk about what happens in group. I’m half scared to go tomorrow. It’s a good thing they believe in medication here or I would be trying much harder to get out of here.
“Wake up, breakfast is in ten minutes.” I heard Taylors voice but I didn’t want to wake up. I knew what to expect after breakfast, group. Which meant I had to talk about myself to everyone.
“I’m up. Give me a second.” I sat up grabbing a long sleeved shirt on the chair next to my bed. I would tell people about my problem but I was not about to show it to them.
One thing I was always good at was hiding and lying. It got to the point that even if I told the truth people would assume I was being sarcastic. So I let them think that. No one knew I cut, I would only do it when I was alone and I made sure that I had enough supplies to keep them clean and away from peoples eyes. Wrists were a great place to start, but only during the winter. Sweatshirts and long sleeves are a dead giveaway during the summer. The key is to not cut deep where people can see. I usually stuck to my thighs where no one thinks twice about. But those tend to scar quicker. During the summer all I have to do is wear boy shorts instead of regular bikini bottoms and a bikini top. Since I can show that much skin no one would ever get suspicious.
“You ready for group?” Nathan sat down next to me with his tray of french toast, eggs, and sausage.
“Don’t remind me, when do they hand out meds?” I asked trying to change the subject.
“After group. They make sure we’re sane when we have to spill our souls, then they turn us to zombies. I tried skipping my meds once and I got sent to solitary for a day. I just wanted to be able to think straight.” Lexis said not looking up from her eggs.
“Don’t let them know that you want the meds so much, they can use that as a reason to keep you here.” Trevor looked up from his tray.
“I just don’t know what to do in group. I’m more of a private person.” That was true, I hate telling people my problems. All it does is lead to more problems.
“Just answer all of Mr. Gates questions. He likes doing these partner games too. Just go along with it. One thing we all learn very early is that there is no privacy here. We all know too much about each other in our group and there’s no way to get around that if we want to get out. They are good about making each group the same group you have the whole time so you don’t have to tell the world your problems, but that still means that seven other ears get to hear your stories.” Blake said.
“So I’m going to be with all of you? Whose the seventh person?” I asked.
“This guy Steven, he’s a level three. We never really see him out of group. He’s one of Mr. Gates favorite to question.” Lexis mentioned
“Yeah he never fails Mr. Gates. He tries to one up Mr. Gates all the time but Mr. Gates is cold.” Taylor looked at me as she said this.
“Yeah when he talked to me in my preliminary session he seemed to see right through me.” I shivered when I remembered how he seemed to ask all the tough questions not caring how personal.
“Welcome to group therapy, today we have a new face here that by the looks of it you already know. Abigail would you like to start us out by telling us why you’re here today?” he sure doesn’t wait till your ready.
“Um…okay. What do you want me to say?”
“What did you do that made you be admitted here?” I thought I was a student. Now they put us in our place.
The room was silent, everyone waiting on my answer. I looked at Taylor, she half smiled at me as if she knew what I was going through, and I guess they did. They all at one time were new in group and had to go through Mr. Gates mercy less questioning. “I cut too deep and got sent to the hospital and my mother decided I needed help so she wanted me to go here.” I held my breath waiting for Mr. Gates to speak.
“Are you sure you were just cutting like any other day or was this one different than the rest?”
“What do you mean?”
“The hospital sent their finding on when you were admitted to them and they charted it as attempted suicide.” I thought they had no proof.
“It wasn’t, I didn’t mean for it to happen that way.”
“So instead you wanted it to go a different way? Did you want to instead be found by your mother lying on the bathroom floor dead?” He really doesn’t care what the rest hear.
I looked at the others for some type of smile. None of them could meet my eyes.
“I never meant for anything like that to happen it just did. I made a mistake, I should have been more careful.”
“So you can cut yourself carefully?” great now I’d done it, he was winning.
“Yes, well kind of.” I gave up. Tears were trying to betray me.
One thing I hated more than anything was crying. I hadn’t cried since I started cutting three years ago. Cutting kept me strong and I didn’t need tears. But having not cut since I got here everything I’ve known has been changing. I needed to cut and soon.
“Thank you Abigail. We can go back to your story next time. Now I think that we should get into our partner exercise for the day. I want everyone to partner up guy and girl.”
I looked around the room, Nathan looked at me as if he would be my partner, “Abigail, I actually want you to go with Steven.” Nathan looked away as soon as Mr. Gates spoke knowing it wasn’t worth resisting.
“Alright.” I looked over to Steven who I hadn’t noticed till now.
He was cute, but not in the teenage angst way. The bags under his eyes made him look older than he really was but his eyes were the lightest, purest green I had ever seen. I smiled as he walked over and sat down next to me. “Hi.” he mumbled waiting for Mr. Gates to tell us the exercise.
“Now this is going to be different, since we have an even number of people now. I want you two look at your partner and tell them the one thing that’s on your mind, the one thing that eats away at you until you can’t take it anymore. Go.” Mr. Gates continued walking around the room, glancing every once and a while at me.
I looked at Steven, “So do you want to go first or shall I?” I looked at my hands to avoid looking directly at him.
“I’ll go… um.” he looked around the room as if trying to find the right words, “I really don’t think group is much of a help, especially with Gates breathing down our backs. He can’t help me.” He exhaled loudly as if that took all his energy.
What do I say to that? He was truthful, I could tell that’s really what was on his mind. There was no way I could tell the truth, “I wish I hadn’t gotten caught. I just needed another five minutes not even.” I stopped covering my mouth with my hands.
Had I really just said that? I don’t know why I chose to tell the truth but it just sort of came out. I looked around the room, everyone was talking with their partners and here we were sitting awkwardly not sure what to say. Of course Mr. Gates was staring straight at us. “I..um..I didn’t mean to say that.” I looked at the floor wishing I could become part of it.
“Of course you didn’t, it’s your first day. You’ll get used to it. We all do. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone what you said. It’s one thing that we are all good about. Anything said here we don’t repeat ever.” He sounded so sure.
“Why are you here? You seem, too normal?” I bit my tongue on the last word.
“Your one to talk, you don’t strike me as the misfit type. One thing to keep in mind is that no one is really what they look like.” His smile faded, showing the wrinkles of stress that creased his forehead.
“Sorry I’m still trying to figure out this place.”
“Alright times up. Would anyone like to share now what they have on their mind?” No, he cannot call on me, “Taylor?”
“I just got a letter from my sister a couple days ago and she’s never really talked to me since I got sent here. It was just a surprise is all.” I could tell there was more to what she was saying but Mr. Gates didn’t push it, that’s a first.
“Good, that’s great. Now I’m going to end this session early and let you off to your free time so I can fill out some new paperwork, Steven can I see you after?” Steven didn’t look intimidated at all; in fact he seemed sort of excited.
I walked into the game room with Taylor and everyone. With group ending early it gave us twenty minutes before our nature hike started. They had every hour planned out so neatly so that it gave me no time alone. In fact I haven’t been truly alone since that episode in my bathroom. Since then I’ve always been under someone’s watch. I was still able to cut somewhat whenever I could slip into the bathroom. I’d turn on the shower and let it run a while before I really got in. It’s not like I ever did it for attention. If that was the case then I would have been caught years ago. But I never meant for this to even happen. I have it under control, I know how to control it, and it doesn’t control me. I haven’t done anything since a couple hours before I got here. I had stuck the pocket knife in my bag but decided against bringing it in. If I want to be seen as misunderstood, how can I bring a knife into a rehab institution? That’s just not smart. So I haven’t done anything for the last week and a half. I miss it, of course I miss it. But so far the meds they’ve given me have put me in this dream like state for the past couple days. Yet its when I drift into that dream like coma I think about what I want.
I never told anyone about my hobby. I wasn’t popular but I wasn’t a loner. I paid attention in school and kept up appearances. My absence is probably going unnoticed. I haven’t gotten any letters from anyone, not even my mother. Who is probably having a second honeymoon right now trying to forget I ever existed. Fine by me as long as she doesn’t try to come back here and act like my mother.
“Here’s your schedule for classes Abigail. Tomorrow morning you will start class with everyone else.” Ms Cheryl smiled handing me a blue piece of paper.
It was official I was now a student at Camp Greenwood. They had given me pretty much the same schedule I had back home thankfully. Amazingly I still had two college classes that I would have to keep up with. “Any questions?” Ms Cheryl looked at me expectantly.
“No I think I can figure it all out. Thank you.” I smiled trying to act friendly; waiting till Ms Cheryl turned and walked away.
“So did you get any good classes?” Taylor walked up taking the blue paper out of my hand.
“Mostly the things that I took before, back home.” I shrugged not really caring about them.
“Oh bug shot with all those college classes. They put me in Comp English too. But you have fun with your AP Government class. I hate history.” She laughed handing my schedule back to me.
“So you have English same time as me?”
“Yes Ma’am. I think you have a couple classes with Lexis and Nathan. Are you thinking about applying for the extra night class?”
“Extra classes? I just got here.”
“Well it’s more like a way to graduate early. We move pretty fast around here and how ever much you pass you don’t have to do when you get back to your old school, or you could just graduate here. That’s what I’m doing. There’s no chance I’m going to get out by the end of the year so I’m doing everything I can to be able to not have to go back.”
“That sounds cool, I might do that. I bet my mother would love to not have to take me back.” I tried to sound as if that didn’t phase me but if she could tell she didn’t mention it.
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Okayy so thats what I have sooooo far!! Let me know what you think!! Thank you!
-Lizz
