“No, it wasn’t just a panic attack!” She disagreed with the psychiatrist. “He had handprints on his neck! Someone attacked my son!”
The psychiatrist, Dr. Brown, looked at me and lifted my head. He checked my throat. It was sore and scratchy. He poked at a few of the bruises before asking me some questions.
“Did you see this person?”
I nodded.
“Can you tell me what he looked like?”
“For the most part, yeah,” I answered. Mom walked over to me, and she wasn’t smiling.
“My son gave his report to the police. What is the point of this?” She grabbed my shoulders and held me. “He has suffered enough. Why does he have to go through this again?”
I have never seen Mom so assertive; I was so used to her being pushed around. I guess, when she became chief, she realized that she had to be tough. She even tried enforcing rules with Henry at home. It didn’t work, but she made a valid effort.
“Maybe we should talk outside,” Dr. Brown suggested. He held his clipboard close to his chest as if I were going to steal it from him. I almost laughed.
What an idiot.
“No, my son has the right to know what happened.” Mom was stern. Her cold eyes stared at Dr. Brown, breaking him down. I watched as he trembled at her glare. He sighed before placing the clipboard on the counter behind him.
“Kyle.” He looked at me. My attention shifted away from the papers and to him, fully invested in what this guy had to say about what happened. “You told us about your migraines and your inability to sleep at night. We believe that these two things have caused major hallucinations. Migraines and sleep deprivation can both cause minor hallucinations, but since you are experiencing both, we think that it advances the—”
“So, you mean to tell me—” Mom cut him off. “—that my son just thought he was being choked? What about the hand marks?”
“Well,” Dr. Brown started before clearing his throat, “we believe that Kyle wasn’t aware of his own self-harming.”
I snapped my head to Mom, thinking I was going to have to defend myself. Nick was the one who choked me, I wanted to yell. Knowing that he was “just missing” to them, it would’ve been confusing, and if I told them he was dead, I would be stuck in the looney bin forever.
“My son choked himself?” she challenged. She was beginning to walk toward the doctor like a predator stalking her prey. Dr. Brown looked like he was about to be attacked. “He wrapped his own hands around his throat and squeezed on purpose?”
“Not on purpose, but subconsciously.” He seemed weary. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, clenching his hands, and wiping them on his uniform.
Mom assigned me to another doctor. Everyone obliged because she’s the chief of the surgery department, so I guess that gets you some respect around here. However, they made me stay on the psych floor for another three days. For three days, I was known as the semi-subconscious self-harming boy. I talked with a girl who tried to kill herself about it. She was a delight.
Our first ever conversation was her going into detail about how she wanted to go out. She said something about jumping out of a plane with blades and snakes attached to her hair so people would think she was Medusa. That was the moment I knew she was crazy. And yet I still wanted to talk to her.
Her name is Marie Sparrow, although I’m quite sure she made up her last name. She has this wild curly mess of hair that she claims she has a tough time taming. Her skin is dark with rosy undertones, brightening her aqua-colored eyes.
She was the only one that actually understood me. The only one I really liked. There was a boy there I tried to befriend, but he threatened to kill me. Then he got transferred to a more secure facility for assaulting a nurse. So, Marie was the next best choice.
“That gets rid of the whole point!” she blurted out. I was startled at her sudden volume. We sat at the lunch table with a bunch of other weirdos, but we never talked to them. And they didn’t care enough about us to listen.
“What?” I asked, confused. Marie always kept me on my toes, so unpredictable.
“To feel the pain or want it,” she explained as if it was something everyone knew.
“No, but—” I quickly checked around us to make sure no one was listening. “—I know exactly who did this to me.”
“Don’t go all crazy on me.” Then she laughed and started choking on her food.
Karma.
She coughed and drank some water. I just patted her back, which got me a glare from the male nurse that was supervising us. I threw my hands in the air and just watched Marie turn red. Eventually, she calmed down, looking back at me for my response.
“I’m not, Marie! He looked me right in the eyes!” I tried to convince her, but she just stared at me blankly. “I know who it was.”
“Then just tell the police,” she stated simply before grabbing her water and starting to gulp. I watched as her sleeve slid up her arm a little and revealed scars.
Oh.
I shifted in my seat. She didn’t seem uncomfortable about it. I felt weird, seeing the scars on her. My head got dizzy from picturing her hurting herself. For some reason, the image was clear. Her sitting in a bathroom with razors in her hand. Blood dripping from her wrists as she pulled her knees closer together. Her mind was hazy with thoughts, causing her to cry. But I couldn’t picture tears streaming down Marie’s face. I pushed the scene away and focused on the Marie that was in front of me, stuffing her face with food.
“I can’t tell the police, then I’d be here forever,” I reasoned, pushing away my thoughts. She eyed me, tilting her head to the side. I leaned into her ear. “He’s dead.”
I drifted back to see her facial expression. Her eyes were widened, showcasing the light blue in them, and her jaw dropped to the floor. She grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me closer to her.
“You killed the guy who choked you?”
“No!” I pushed her away.
Technically, yeah.
I looked at her face. She was thinking about how any of that made sense. Before I said anything else, I thought about how this could affect me. She lived in town, but she’d been in here for a while. She probably had no idea who Nick was.
You could tell her that Nick is dead.
Just don’t tell her that it’s because of you.
“He was pronounced dead a couple of days ago. They found his body in the woods,” I whispered, staring at the white table. I bit my lip and closed my eyes to keep it down. The scene replayed in my mind. I heard her breathing right by my ear.
“Who was?” she whispered back.
I opened my eyes and stared right at her. The sound of my heart beating drowned out all other sounds. The taste of bile was sitting in my throat, waiting for a moment to escape. My hands shook the whole table. I concentrated on just Marie, to answer her.
“My best friend.”
~
Three pills. They prescribed me three different pills to take, and I could not tell you what they were supposed to do. A nurse comes in every morning to make sure I take my pills. She watches me as I place them in my mouth and swallow them; then she checks my mouth to make sure I’m not hiding them.
“Open up,” she muttered. She looked in my mouth and left without another word. She stomped away down the hall. I sat on my bed for a few more minutes before there was a knock on my door.
Mom managed to get me a private room, which wasn’t what I wanted. I figured if I had a roommate, my thoughts wouldn’t have a chance to seep through the back of my mind. However, Mom thought if I were alone, I would have more time to heal, and because I’m her son, my privileges wouldn’t be taken for granted. But so far, the only privileges I’ve gotten were this room and extra fries on Wednesday.
“Knock, knock,” Marie chirped. She strutted her way into my room and sat on my chair. She grabbed a magazine Mom gave me and started flipping through it.
“You aren’t supposed to be in here,” I reminded her. She sc
runched her face up and waved me off.
She responded to me without taking her eyes off the page she was on. “The nurse said she didn’t care as long as I sat in this chair, and you stayed over there.” She sat up while raising her eyebrow. “Ooh, scrunchies are making a comeback. I think my hair color would look good with the bright green one. I bet your Mom has loads of them. Maybe I’ll ask her to bring me some. Chloe was wearing one yesterday.”
I rolled my eyes at her. Marie is normally more like a guy, at least with me. But she has her girly moments. Yesterday, her grandma brought her a new top, and she actually squealed. I watched as her blue eyes lit up as she took it out of the box.
“I think we should talk, though,” she said, still looking at the magazine. “About the thing.”
I didn’t want her to bring it up. I wished that we would just never speak of it again.
She noticed my disinterest. “About Nick?”
My head snapped to her, and she just eyed me. I gulped, pushing it down my throat. I could feel the sweat running down my back.
How did she—
“Google. Nurses don’t watch you all the time. Nick Walter, age sixteen, your best friend. Also dating that gorgeous girl that keeps coming here for you,” she recited before putting the magazine down. “Although, there is one thing the internet didn’t tell me.”
Crap. Crap. Crap.
A sharp, stabbing pain pierced through my head, making its way around my whole body. My thoughts started attacking me, slapping my mind around like a ball. I couldn’t think for a moment. I couldn’t breathe for a moment.
“It didn’t tell me Nick was dead. It told me he was missing.”
It felt like a stake to the heart. Someone was grabbing my heart and closing their fingers around it. Tightly. I didn’t show her, though; I wouldn’t show her how much pain I was in. I stared at her, closing off all emotions I could. Lies that I could say passed by my mind.
“But you told me he was dead.”
I sighed. I was weak at this point. My mind shut down, and I was about to pass out from all the sudden pain. She caught me. This was going to be it.
That was it. It was time for the truth. I was honest with her before in the cafeteria, and now I was paying the price. I was done with the lies and the constant guilt that was eating me alive. I was done with it all.
“It was an accident.”
“An accident?” She walked toward me. “So, you did kill him?”
Those words, those five words, held the fate of my life in their hands. What I answered would decide if I would spend my life in prison or not. Marie wasn’t backing down; her arms were folded across her chest, and her eyes were narrowed down on me.
“I pushed him, and he fell.”
Guilt weighed me down but saying the words aloud relieved some of the weight. I didn’t feel so sick to my stomach any more. The bitterness that was sitting in the back of my throat washed away. I felt okay again.
Except for the fact that you just admitted to murder.
Marie looked at me. She stared for a long time, silently standing there. She was inspecting me, waiting to see if I would take it back. But there was no use; it was out there. My breathing started to hitch again; the feeling of uneasiness settled in my stomach.
“Then what happened?” she asked. “Did you stab him?”
What?
I was taken aback. “No! Why would I stab him if he fell?”
“Wait,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead as if I caused her headaches. If anyone caused anyone headaches in this room, it was her. With her constant talk about random crap that no one cares about.
Like scrunchies.
“So, you mean to tell me,” she started again, pulling me away from my thoughts, “that you pushed him and thought you killed him?”
I know I killed him. I watched him die right in front of me. I watched the blood drain from his head and life disappear from his eyes. I nodded to answer her because I was fuming at this point. My knuckles were white, and I was biting my tongue to stop myself from beating the crap out of her.
“Dude!” She threw her hands up in the air then placed them beside her hips. “You didn’t kill him! You pushed him, and he probably just hit his head!”
“I watched him die!” I screamed at her, jumping from my bed. “I watched as the blood came out of his head and onto the ground!”
Her eyes pierced into mine. “You sound crazy.”
I huffed, squatting back onto my bed. I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling on some strands. I didn’t think I would have to convince someone that I killed him.
“I’m not crazy,” I muttered. “I pushed him, and he died.”
“People don’t just die from being pushed, Kyle!” she lectured. “Something else must’ve happened to actually kill him!” She emphasized “actually” to make her point.
She paced around the room, continuing her thoughts. “And no, falling doesn’t kill people either.”
What she was saying made sense; it did. People don’t just die from falling. But I saw him. I knew he was dead.
“I think he hit a rock when he fell. That’s what caused him to bleed.”
I was remembering the night. Seeing him there, lying on the cold, dirty ground. Me leaving him there. Running through the forest, the wind blowing against my face, screaming for me to turn back. To go get him and save him. Tears formed in my eyes. I wiped them away before Marie could see.
“Hitting your head on a rock doesn’t make a lot of blood. He could’ve gotten a concussion. Or he could’ve just passed out. He might still be alive but confused,” she guessed. “He could still be alive, Kyle.”
I looked up to her, her eyes warm and forgiving. She didn’t see me as a monster. She saw me as me. She knew the truth and didn’t hate me. Something took over me then. I’m not sure if it was the state I was in or the fact that she helped me.
I stood up and wrapped my arms around her. She hesitantly hugged back. I burrowed my face into her neck, tears brimming in my eyes again.
“So, I’m not a monster?”
She shook her head. “You’re not a monster.”
~
7
Day Nine
They let me leave the next morning. They said I was doing better, and I could go home. And the truth was that I was doing better. Marie helped me realize that Nick could still be alive. Although, it didn’t help that the thoughts still tormented me.
Yeah, and what if he is dead?
Then you are a murderer.
You killed your best friend.
Marie tried to comfort me about it, but they kicked her out of my room. She was muttering something about how she hates it there when she left. When I left my room the next morning to go get breakfast before leaving, she was right there waiting for me.
“Hey, Marie.” She looked up from the floor, waved, and bounced over to me.
“A little birdie told me that you are leaving after breakfast,” she began. We walked down the hallways together to get to the cafeteria. Well, it’s not called a cafeteria because this one is specifically for psych patients. We weren’t allowed in the hospital one.
I nodded. “Yep, they are letting me go today.” I felt a tug on my sleeve, and I stopped walking. I turned to face Marie, who had dropped the smile on her face.
“Are you sure you’re ready for that? With everything with Nick?” I rolled my eyes and pulled my sleeve out of her grasp. She pushed her black curly hair out of her eyes, staring intensely into mine.
“Yes, so stop giving me that look.” I groaned. “It creeps me out.”
I continued walking, passing random doctors along the way. Most ignored me until I bumped into one certain doctor.
“Kyle,” Dr. Jones babbled, “great to see you, son!”
Oh god.
I placed my hands in my pockets and nodded. Marie came up behind me and scoffed at Dr. Jones. He didn’t seem to notice either of our annoyed faces because he kept talking.
; “I heard you are getting released today,” he pointed out.
“Yep.” I cleared my throat to end the awkward silence. “I was just about to go eat.”
“Oh well, I don’t want to keep you two.” He turned to face Marie. “And I heard you are getting better every day, Marie!”
“Bite me,” she barked back.
Dr. Jones didn’t seem fazed by this statement. He kept his stupid smile on his face before trotting off. We both turned to watch him pass us before cracking up. Marie held her hands up and flipped him off.
“I hate that guy,” she muttered. “He doesn’t do his job!”
I chuckled. “Yeah, why is he on this floor, anyways?”
“Probably trying to find any excuse not to help patients.” She shrugged. After a few more minutes of walking and poking fun at Dr. Jones, we arrived at the cafeteria. Our meals were preplanned, so we just grabbed our trays and headed toward our table.
“When you get out of here, promise me you’ll come to visit and break me out of here,” she begged. I sat across from her, placing my tray down.
“Honestly, I wish—” I cackled. “—but I would get sent back. Both of us being here isn’t any use.”
She reluctantly agreed with me before tackling her food. She always ate so quickly. I watched as she scoffed down her whole bagel before moving on to her eggs.
“You are gonna throw up eating that fast,” I warned her, slowly taking bites of my oatmeal.
“Boo-hoo, shut up, and eat your damn food.”
After we finished eating, I went to go pack. Marie came with me. She said it was to say goodbye, but I’m fairly sure she just wanted my room. As we were packing, I noticed something under my bed. I bent down to pick it up.
“What are you doing? There aren’t any monsters under your bed.”
“Haha, very funny,” I replied sarcastically. “There’s something under here.”
I reached under without looking; I felt around and didn’t find anything. When I tried to pull my hand out, a razor-sharp pain shot through my palm. I winced, pulling it out. Blood started rushing out of my palm, dripping to the floor. It wasn’t in a pool just splatters.
Believing Lies Page 6