Whenever I wasn’t at school or the gym, I would be out exploring the city. I didn’t like to be still for any amount of time, because it was too easy to think about everything if I stopped.
I guess I should have seen it, I should have realized that I was doing too much; I should have seen it as a warning sign. At the time though it was just that I wanted to keep busy, I didn’t like to think about all the people who hated me, I didn’t like think about the people who took the time to write those emails, because surely they must hate me if they did that, or took time to write the notes that they shoved into my locker, or push me around at school, and most recently playing stupid little tricks on me.
The Thursday after my first dance class, I was sat in my Chemistry class, and we were using flames to heat things up, I couldn’t tell you know what we were doing, because I really didn’t pay that much attention to anything in school anymore. One of the girls behind me decided to use the flame, not on her experiment, but on my hair, she had moved across her desk and held it to the ends of my hair. Nobody noticed the flames, or if they did they didn’t say anything, and I didn’t notice anything until I felt the burn on my neck. I started panicking and so did our teacher, who pulled me out of my chair, and threw her glass of water at me, managing in her panic to miss the flames, which were growing larger, and drench the dark green top I was wearing, this of course only managed to heighten the amusement of the students, they all started howling with laughter, pulling out their phones and taking pictures, I even think some of them captured the moment on video.
The teacher, who had now recovered a little from the initial shock, pulled me out of the classroom, barreling me into the bathrooms, and she began to soak my hair in water, leaving it scorched and dripping wet and I had a few burns on my neck. She left me in the bathroom to try and dry off my hair, while she went to fetch the school nurse. I couldn’t move. I just stared at my reflection in the large mirrors over the sinks. I looked awful, my drenched hair was dropping down limply to my waist, and the ends of it were badly burnt. My top was soaked, and the make-up on my face had run, due to my teacher dropping water over my head, so I had mascara and eyeliner running down my face.
Silently I walked back into the classroom, picked up my bag without a glance at anyone, and went back to the bathrooms. Inside my bag I had a case of art supplies, which I had used in my art class that morning, and had conveniently forgotten to leave in the art room, like I was supposed to do, because I was meant to be going back after school to work on my project, because I was so far behind everyone else. Inside the shiny plastic case there was a pair of scissors. I felt completely numb as I looked at myself in the mirror. There were tears spilling down my face but I didn’t pay any attention, I hardly noticed them at all. I took the scissors to my hair, and without hesitation I cut. Slicing off chunk after chunk until it was a badly cut mess, cut right to the top of my neck so the burns were visible. The floor was covered in water and my dark hair. My hair was sticking out at weird angles, looking wet and strange, but I couldn’t bring myself to care, not even a little bit.
That is how the school nurse and my Chemistry teacher found me, with my hair scattered on the floor, scissors in my hands and tears staining my face. I was just staring blankly at my reflection, out of the corner of my eye I remember seeing them staring, open mouthed.
Eventually the nurse snapped out of it, returning to her professional manner, and she checked the burn on my neck, applied some cream that made it sting, and then covered it with a large white bandage, which she used my scissors to cut to size, and then stuck it on with some medical tape.
‘Can I go now?’ Those were the first words I had spoken since it happened, they tasted strange in my mouth, like it wasn’t me speaking, my voice sounded strained and too high to be my own, and I just thought to myself, who is this girl? Who is the girl with the crazy hair, the one who is so unhappy, so miserable that she got to this point, standing in a bathroom after having her hair set alight? I didn’t recognize myself, and I think that scared me more than anything else.
‘I think it would be best if you spoke to someone.’ The nurse shoots a worried glance at the teacher. I think they mean I’ll have to give a statement to the police, or talk to the principal and put in a formal complaint. Both of them march me out of the bathroom, into the busy halls of kids, who are both shocked and excited to see how I looked at that moment. Maybe that’s what they wanted, to push me to the point where I broke, everything they had done so far was invisible to them, they didn’t see me exercising as much as I was, they didn’t really pay any attention to my obsessive organizing of things, to them it was just part of my weirdness, and they didn’t know that I cried myself to sleep every single night, after spending hours reading their hateful words. This though, this was a drastically physical sign of how far they’d pushed me, and they seemed to love it. Just like in the classroom, they were snapping photos, filming me. In fact if you go online you can probably find the videos, they’re probably still around. The girls, the ones who weren’t photographing or filming me, were texting or calling people like their lives depended on it. Telling people what had happened.
They didn’t take me to talk to the police, or even to the principal. They hadn’t called my parents to tell them what had happened. It wasn’t anything that I expected; they walked me to a room next to the nurses’ office, where the school therapist had her office.
The girl who lit my hair on fire got a warning, and a week of detention after school; I got thrown in daily sessions with the school therapist. Apparently cutting off your own hair shows way worse judgment than setting someone else’s hair on fire. That’s what the school thought anyway, and they think I’m the crazy one.
River
Chapter Eight
Session 4
‘Amanda I need my keys, have you seen them anywhere?’ Oliver pulls up a cushion on the couch and tosses it to the floor, ‘I really can’t be late Amanda, where on earth are they?’
‘Try the fridge, Tiff likes to put things in the fridge, last night I found my hairdryer in the fridge.’ Amanda calls back from the bathroom, where she is curling her hair; she switches off the curling iron and leans against the doorframe. The bathroom has now been entirely taken over by Tiff and Amanda, with frilly things all over.
‘The fridge, you’ve got to be kidding.’ He shakes his head, but goes over to check anyway.
‘I didn’t think you had work today, it’s Saturday, and you don’t usually work on the weekend.’
‘I didn’t say I was going to work.’ He replies as he pulls open the large fridge, coming face to face with a pair of his shoes, a tie he’d been looking for, and sure enough his keys were there, lying on a pot of last night’s leftovers. ‘Can you please get Tiff to stop putting things in the fridge?’ He whips out the other items and throws them onto the table.
‘I wish I could but I can’t, she likes it too much, sorry.’ Amanda shrugs, ‘If you’re not going to work, then where are you going?’ Amanda asks, folding her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow.
‘I do have a social life you know.’ He defends.
‘No you don’t, the only friends you have are college friends, none of whom live in New York, and you haven’t made any friends here, because you’re always too busy at work. So no, you don’t have a social life.’ She counters instantly. He hesitates for a second, his mind debating what to tell her, considering telling her he’s taken up a hobby of some sort, but in the end, he decides to tell her the truth, because she’ll know if he’s lying to her.
‘I’m going to the hospital.’
‘You just said you weren’t going to work.’
‘So? You know sis the hospital does still exist when I’m not on duty, the building doesn’t vanish into thin air.’ He shrugs his shoulders, pulling his phone from its charger and dropping it into his bag, he can tell by the look on is sisters face that she isn’t pleased.
‘Don’t be so sarcastic, I hate it wh
en you do that. Just be serious for a second.’ Amanda rolls her eyes, ‘I realize that the hospital still exists when you aren’t on duty, what I don’t understand is why you would chose to go to the hospital, not only for long shifts every week, but on your day off as well.’
‘I’m going to visit someone.’
‘You don’t know anyone in New York, who are you visiting?’
‘Amanda it really isn’t any of your business where I’m going, why I’m going, or who I’m going to see.’ He pulls the bag up onto his shoulder.
‘You’re going to see that patient of yours aren’t you, the one you’re so obsessed with.’
‘I am not obsessed Amanda.’ He counters sharply, ‘She’s a girl who needs my help and I want to help her, she needs someone to talk to, and she feels like she can talk to me, which is a huge step in her recovery, so don’t try and make out like it’s a crazy obsession of mine, because that, that isn’t obsession, I just care what happens to her.’ He ends the conversation by walking out of the apartment, pausing for a moment outside, and leaning against his door, dropping his head against the wood and closing his eyes, calming himself by breathing slowly.
He pulls into the parking lot five minutes before he is due to be meeting River, it’s been a week since they went to the park, a week since she had the panic attack, a week since she told him she’d almost drowned once, and a week of visits where she’d begun to put her walls back up. Today, he was expecting there to be another letter, he wasn’t sure what made him think that, he just had this feeling that she would have written something for him today. It’s that eagerness that is pushing him to run towards the ward. At least it was partly the eagerness to receive a letter; his rush also had something to do with his plans. It was hot today, the hottest day of the summer so far, and he had a plan to get her into the sunshine. He wasn’t going to risk taking her to the park again, not so soon after the last visit, because the staff at the hospital were already suspicious about her disappearance, he had tried to explain that he had taken her out into the hospital grounds, but if they kept on going off site then the staff would get even more suspicious. More than that though, he was afraid that she would have another panic attack, still he knew he needed to get her out again, so that she could enjoy the summer weather. He had seen how relaxed she’d become down at that little pond, he could tell that being outside agreed with her.
He made it to her room just in time, slightly out of breath and needing to sit down, it was far too hot outside to be running, but he didn’t want to be late. To him it felt like he would be letting her down if he turned up late, even if it was just a few minutes late. River had already been let down by so many people, he didn’t want to be one of those people.
‘Did you run here?’ She clutches her notebook to her chest, her eyes widening slightly at the thought of him running to meet her, and at his slightly disheveled appearance. He takes a moment to get his breath back before speaking, gratefully accepting the glass of water she holds out for him. Then once he has recovered enough, he places the glass down and clears his throat.
‘I didn’t want to be late.’ He shrugs as if it’s no big deal.
‘You didn’t need to run up here, I wouldn’t have fallen apart if you were a few minutes late.’ She teases, ‘And it is a big deal, that was really sweet of you.’
‘Well I wanted to get here on time because I had an idea.’
‘If it’s scrabble again then I’m seriously worried about you, because no guy should like getting beaten that much.’ She smiles, it’s easy and relaxed, and her tone is light and teasing. He can tell how much more comfortable she is today than she’d been all week, and he wonders what it is that’s made the shift in her. Perhaps he was right he thinks, and she had written a new letter, taking another piece of her story and passing it to him.
‘It’s not scrabble, my pride is still recovering from our last match, and this is more along the lines of an outing – well an outing of sorts.’ He grins.
‘An outing of sorts, you’ve intrigued me.’ She speaks easily but he notices her tighten her grip on the notebook. He can see the anxiety about going out into the public again.
‘I thought we could go up to the roof.’ He watches her relax again, the roof was safe, it was quiet, she could handle the roof, because she could sit and relax in the sun, not having to worry about crowds of people.
‘Is that allowed?’ She can’t help but smile, even though she knows it might be against hospital policy, she’s excited by the idea of going up to the roof, being in the open air.
‘Staff members are allowed on the roof, not many people take advantage of it and go up there. Actually I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone up there, not in a while at least.’ He leans back in his chair, ‘It’s entirely up to you.’
‘I think I’d like to go.’ She swings her legs over the side of the bed, pointing her toes as she does.
‘Good, come on then.’ He offers her his hand to help her up; she doesn’t have a drip in today, so it’s easier to get out. Again though Oliver is aware that he shouldn’t be getting so close to her, and she picks up on his slight hesitation.
‘Lead the way and I’ll follow behind.’ She drops his hand and smiles at him steadily, her hands shaking the smallest bit as they drop to her side, one hand empty now, and the other still holding the notebook.
‘Ok.’ He nods, clears his throat then steps into the hall, they walk through the halls easily, keeping enough distance that nobody would think they were together, most people don’t seem to notice either one of them, the young man with scruffy dark hair, walking along dressed in jeans and a hoody, not his typical shirt and smart trousers he’d wear when on duty; and following behind him at a safe distance on the opposite side of the hall, a young skinny girl with dark brown hair falling to her tiny waist, dressed in a calf length beige dress, and walking the halls barefoot. In any other place she would have probably been noticed, but here there were always patients walking around barefooted, or in slippers, so she didn’t look out of place at all, and he could easily pass for a visitor.
Once they make it to the roof he turns to face her, making sure she’s not starting to panic, he is pleased to see that she looks fine, in fact though her face looks a little paler, she is smiling softly, taking in the view of the city, she’s looking healthier than she has in a while, especially with the sunlight catching her hair as it blows in the gentle breeze.
‘What do you think?’ He takes her hand again, leading her further onto the roof, helping her navigate the metal pipes that run across the floor, until they reach a clear spot near the fenced off edge. On the clear spot he’d placed a blanket and some cushions, when he had come up here the day before to get things ready. She smiles and squeezes his hand for a brief second.
‘It’s amazing.’ She lets go of his hand and walks over to the blanket, sitting down with her legs curled beneath her. From her position she can look through the metal railings, out across the large and busy city. He sits down beside her, his knees bent to keep him balanced upright.
‘I’m glad you like it.’ He smiles warmly. They both fall into silence, not an uncomfortable silence, because both of them are content in their own heads, thinking things over, enjoying the sunshine and the view of the city they both love. Eventually though she breaks the silence.
‘I wrote the next letter.’ She opens the notebook while she speaks; keeping her eyes down as she takes out the single page and hands it to him.
‘Do you want me to read it now? Or would you prefer I read it when we go back to the ward?’ He asks as he holds letter carefully in his hands, using every last spec of self-control he possesses not to start reading it right away.
‘You can read it now; I’m going to enjoy the sun.’ She closes her eyes and lies down on the blanket, placing a cushion under her head. He keeps his eyes on her for a few seconds more, and then turns his attention to the letter in his hand.
He has to stop reading on more than one occa
sion, look over at her peacefully lying with her eyes closed, in order to keep the anger he feels at a reasonable level. What these girls had done to her was unforgivable, they didn’t realize the effect of their words, and most of them probably just sent emails to fit in, they probably did it simply because it was what everyone else was doing. Now though Oliver was realizing that they were going much further, they were getting to the point where they were physically harming her, for a laugh. He dreaded to think of them getting worse.
He starts to read the remainder of the letter, about what she’d done to her hair, and again at this moment he has to look at her. It had been over a year since she’d chopped off her hair, and the damage was no longer noticeable, her silky dark brown hair fell in waves to her waist, and he recalled her telling him once that her hair grew fast, he doesn’t even remember why they were talking about it, but now he wonders if she’d been thinking about this event.
Once he’s finished with the letter he folds it into his bag, tucking it away with the others, which he will go over again later, as he always does when he receives a new one, he starts from the beginning and sees how the new piece fits. He doesn’t speak for a while, just sits and stares over the city, which is bathed in the golden afternoon light. Below them people rush by on foot and in cars, hurrying from one place to the next, worrying about being late for something, or stressing over work or family, thinking about bills and financial trouble, all of them with a million things racing through their minds, going at a hundred miles per hour. The city which he is watching is never quiet, it’s always chaotic in some way, and right now he feels no different, he has a million things racing through his own head, and he wonders if River is feeling the same, even though she looks so calm right now.
How I Got Here Page 6