“Depression isn’t something to be embarrassed about, you hear me?”
I scoffed. “Says the guy who’s not depressed.”
A sympathetic look crossed his face. “They’ll give you medicine to help you. It’s a chemical imbalance in the brain. It doesn’t mean you’re weak.”
“Meds?” I covered my face with my sweaty palms. “Dead God, I truly am crazy.”
“There is no difference between someone taking a pill for high blood pressure, or any other medical condition, and someone taking one for depression. No difference. Your body, or brain, isn’t producing properly, so medicine will help that.” He opened a plastic bag sitting in the middle of us and handed over my favorite candy bar. “Now eat up. I don’t think they’re going to be so lenient on me sneaking you in the good shit.”
I chuckled lightly, unwrapped the candy bar, and ate it hurriedly.
They wouldn’t let Dawson past the front desk, giving me an even bigger desire to flee. The thought of going through this alone terrified me. I had courage with Dawson by my side, handing over candy bars, and giving me words of encouragement, but alone? That was a different story.
“I’ll find out when I can visit, and I’ll be here at the first opportunity,” he told me. He strapped my bag over my shoulder, pulled me forward, and kissed me on the cheek. “You’ll be fine.”
I nodded, unable to hold back the tears as reality sunk in. I was getting institutionalized. Sure, it was temporary, but that didn’t stop me from feeling like I was a lunatic. A year ago, I would’ve laughed in someone’s face if they told me this was going to happen. It’s crazy how your entire world can fall apart when you lose someone you love. Everything you believed about yourself, all of the strengths you thought you had, is truly tested.
I waved goodbye to him as a short, plump woman wearing a long skirt and jacket waited on me with a clipboard in her hand. I followed her thought a set of double doors, pulling my bag tightly into my stomach, and trying my hardest to shut-up the devil telling me to make a run for it. She stopped at a closed door, and I followed her inside. The room was small with only a computer sitting on a short desk and a chair sitting next to it. Other than that, the room was empty. No bright paintings hung along the walls, no tiny dog statues on the desk, just that.
She grabbed my bag from me and threw it onto the desk. The sound of the zipper being pulled down vibrated through the quiet room. “Do you have any sharp items in here, pills, drugs or anything of that nature?” she asked.
I shook my head, playing with the ends of my hair, and shuffling my feet against the tiled floor. “No, not that I know of. I didn’t pack it.”
She shuffled through the bag, taking smaller ones out, opening them up, and checking the pockets to make sure I wasn’t trying to smuggle anything in.
“Have a seat,” she said, and I slowly fell down into the open chair. “How are you feeling at the moment?”
“Uh, okay.” I was actually terrified.
“Do you feel like harming yourself or anybody else?”
I shook my head, biting hard against my lip nervously. “Good. It’s standard procedure to ask all of these questions,” she explained, going through her list of the rest of the “standard” questions.
“All right, come with me.” I followed the woman, who told me her name was Wanda during my interrogation, down a long hallway. My eyes flew in every direction, taking in the people talking at tables, watching TV, or reading in what she’d called the rec room. Everything seemed sane so far. She turned around the corner and stopped in front of an open door with the number 23 on it. “This is you.”
My feet felt heavy as I walked into the middle of the room. It was definitely different than what I’d imagined. The walls were white, but no padding. There were no restraints on the two, twin-size beds, or tools to perform a lobotomy. Everything looked, well, normal.
I examined the beds. The one closest to the door had a white blanket spread across it with a single pillow. My gaze moved to the one by the window. A bright pink comforter was laid out with a stuffed unicorn propped up against the pillow. Unless that was how they welcomed new patients, I had a feeling I was going to have a roommate. And that wasn’t a good feeling.
I gulped, and set my bag down onto the white bed.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Wanda said. I turned around, forgetting she was even there, and nodded as she disappeared.
I unzipped my bag and began dragging clothes out. Dawson had done a pretty decent job. He’d packed comfortable clothes like he’d said. I found myself grinning and running my hands over the soft fabric of the oversized sweatshirt with “Thomas” scrawled on the back and his football number stitched in underneath it. He’d been telling me for years he wanted it back, but I’d lied and told him I lost it. He probably wouldn’t have taken it from me anyways. He’d thrown a few books and magazines in there. I started putting things away when I noticed something drop onto the floor. I slowly bent down, and picked up a folded paper with my name written across it before opening it up.
Tessa,
I hope they don’t confiscate this letter before you get the chance to read it. If it did get confiscated and you’re the person who took it, it would be pretty shitty to not let her read it. Just saying.
I know I told you I’d always be here for you. I want you to know I mean every word of that. Every single word. You’re not going through this alone and there’s nothing, nothing you could ever do that would make you lose me. Nothing. You’re not crazy. You’re Tessa, who’s dealing with some shit so she can go back to the amazing person she is.
You’re my forever. You’re my always. The sadness you’re feeling, it’s temporary. I’ll help you feel whole again. I promise.
I love you.
Dawson.
I re-read the letter. Then re-read it again. And again. Tears laced my eyes. I hurt him. I didn’t miss the bruises still lingering on his face when he’d visited me, they were fading, but they were still there. I didn’t bring them up because I was terrified he’d remember all the pain I’d caused him and give up on me. He’d realize I wasn’t worth the hassle. I’d chosen Reese, turned my back on him, and then watched him get jumped because he stuck up for me. So I stayed silent, in fear of losing him again.
I swiped the tears off my face before folding the letter back up with jittery hands. I picked up a hard pillow and slid the letter underneath it, silently praying they wouldn’t find it. I wasn’t sure if having letters was against the rules or not. I must’ve tuned out Wanda during that part.
“Hey there,” a wispy voice called out. I turned around to face a girl staring at me. Her jet-black hair was pulled into a large, side-braid. Her tall stature was covered with a black, velour sweat outfit. She was gorgeous, even with a make-up free face; you could tell she was attractive. Her lips were full and profound, almost looking artificial, but not too dramatic. The girl looked like a model. What the hell was she doing here?
“Looks like we’re going to be roomies. Please tell me you’re not a kleptomaniac?” she asked, kicking a leg out and eyeing me.
“No,” I drew out, watching her walk around me, and fall down onto the other bed.
“Thank god,” she cried out. “The last girl they stuck me with stole my shit, denied it, and then they let her get away with it.” She shrugged and held up her hand. “I’m sorry, but Hello Kitty slippers do not just grow paws and walk away during a trip here. They want to, but they just can’t.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. The girl seemed pretty chipper considering the place we were in.
“I’m Elise,” she said kicking up a pair of fuzzy, black slippers on her feet and making herself comfortable.
“Tessa,” I replied, sitting across from her on my own bed.
“What are you in for?” she asked, bluntly. I rubbed my hands down my arms, wondering if I should tell her the truth or not, while she waited for my answer.
“Isn’t that kind of personal
?” This wasn’t prison. I didn’t think she’d need to know my background to find out whether I was going to shank her in her sleep or not.
She shrugged, and flipped her braid behind her shoulder. “I get it, this is your first rodeo, but trust me girl, we’ll all find out sooner or later.” I stared at her in horror. “They’ll probably make you do group with us, which is a total fucking drag.”
“So what happens now?” I asked curiously. “I mean, what did they do when you first got here?”
“You’ll probably meet with a counselor, and she’ll figure out what meds you need to be on.”
“Great,” I muttered. “Just freaking fantastic.”
I focused my eyes on the hands fidgeting in my lap nervously. As soon as I got settled in yesterday, Wanda came to take me to see my therapist. She was nice and not too pushy. It took me a minute to get warmed up to her, but she managed to get me to open up about my cutting, Reese, and my parents. I told her why I’d started cutting and how I was using alcohol to fight myself from it. My cutting wasn’t as frequent when I was hanging out with Reese, and that’s why I believed I was falling in love with him. I believed his presence was fixing my problem.
“Sorry we didn’t visit you much at the hospital,” my dad said. “And we weren’t able to bring you here, but we’ve been preparing for this.”
I finally looked up at them. He and my mom were sitting across from me, their fingers laced together, waiting for my reaction. I eyed them skeptically, scanning them, and picking up on the change. The smell of alcohol wasn’t overtaking my senses, and they looked like they’d both actually showered this morning.
My dad’s blonde hair had been cut and was styled to the side. The scrub that had been building on his face was shaved clean, and the expensive watch my grandfather had given him was strapped around his wrist. I inhaled a deep breath, pinching my hand to be sure this was real, and took a long look at my mom.
A bright red sweater was accessorized with a white wool scarf hanging loosely around her neck. Black booties covered her feet and hit the top of her ankles to meet dark, blue jeans. Her blonde hair was pinned back with a red barrette. They both looked healthy. And sober.
I was happy they were sober for the day, but that didn’t make up for the months they’d been gone. “Visit much?” I repeated his words, baffled. “Mom came for like two seconds, and you managed to make it five minutes before you left me. That was it,” I spat out angrily. They might’ve looked put together and their blood wasn’t streaming with liquor, but one day of good parenting didn’t make up for the countless times they’d abandoned me.
Dawson had told me to take it easy on them. And so did my counselor. But I couldn’t. The pent up anger was too much for me to hold back. I hated how they were sitting there acting like they were the victims. They may have been the victims when Tanner died, but I was the victim now. I was the girl left out to hold my own when I barely had working legs.
“We understand why you’re angry with us,” his strong, masculine voice replied. “Nothing we’ve been doing is acceptable. Our parenting has been neglectful, and there’s no way we can ever make that up to you or your brother. But please, we ask that you give us another chance.” His green eyes glazed over. I could sense the regret flowing through him trailing through the room with the wind and hitting me directly in the chest. “I promise you things are going to change. We’ve thrown out every bottle of liquor in the house, and we’ve been attending AA meetings daily since you were hospitalized. We know that’s not much yet, but we’re trying. We didn’t come see you because we’re trying to make ourselves better, and we knew we had to give you time.” I stared at him, watching his face twist in agony as he rubbed his eyes roughly.
“We’re so sorry, sweetie,” I looked, shocked at the sound of my mom’s soft-spoken voice. “You needed a mother, you needed a friend, and I wasn’t there for you. I had no idea Daisy had moved.” She shook her head and tears glistened down her cheeks. “And then I tried to forbid you to see the best friend you’d already lost.”
“How does this make you feel, Tessa?” my therapist asked, finally cutting into the conversation, as she sat in the corner of the room analyzing us.
My throat burned as I fought with the answer. I was too scared to reveal my pain. When you’re hurt for so long, fighting to hide it from others, eventually it sinks in and refuses to resurface. With time, it sinks deeper inside and just stays with you. You feel it, you act out on it, but your body holds up a barrier between your knowledge of the pain and the outside worlds. Maybe that’s why nobody saw this coming.
“Good,” I finally answered to the quiet room, keeping my head bowed down.
“We weren’t aware of how badly she was getting. She seemed okay. We didn’t see her crying all the time. She wasn’t changing her wardrobe to all black or listening to heavy metal,” my mom said, wiping the bottoms of her eyes with a tissue.
I shook my head, and the sobs came through. “I didn’t cry because I numbed myself. I didn’t want to feel anything, so I used alcohol, razors, scissors, or anything I could, so I wouldn’t feel that way.” I’d grasped onto it all, good or bad, particularly the bad, to help me through. There was no heavy metal or dark eyeliner because that wasn’t enough. That wouldn’t make me paralyzed. I’d needed to not feel.
Another cry came from my mom, and my dad squeezed her hand in support. I knew I should’ve felt bad for them, and I shouldn’t have lashed out, but I didn’t. I wanted them to endure the guilt, suffer through the pain, and realize they were wrong. I hoped the guilt would eat them up, consume them, and they’d have to change for good. This was their last chance.
Four excruciatingly long days passed before they had a visitor’s day. I was beginning to get the hang of things. Everyday, I’d meet with my counselor, then we’d have group therapy, which was as terrible, maybe more, as Elise described it, and later they’d let us hang out in the rec room. It wasn’t fun, but it wasn’t exactly horrible, either.
“Holy hell,” Elise said, stopping my movement into the rec room and grabbing my arm. “That guy is some serious eye candy.” I looked up to find Dawson waiting for me. He rose up from his chair and eagerly waved my way. “And he belongs to you? You little sex kitten,” she laughed.
I shook my head at her and kept my focus on Dawson. I took a deep breath, warm sensations tingling through me, as he waited for me to get to him. His hair was dripping water at the tips from the snowflakes I saw drifting through the window. Seeing Dawson waiting for me in that moment was one of the best feelings in the world.
“I’m sure you’ll be having more fun than I will,” she added, breaking away from me. “Daddy dearest isn’t very happy about my latest rehab stint.” She walked to the back of the room and sat down across from a man sitting in a full suit. He didn’t get up to hug her, and neither one of them smiled.
“Hey,” Dawson greeted me when I made it to him. He wrapped his strong arms around my back and pulled me into the warmth of the thick fabric of his coat. I inhaled his scent, wanting to take it with me to replace the harsh sterilized smells there. He held onto me for a few seconds before letting me go and holding me out at a distance to look at me. “You look good, baby,” he said,
“Thanks.” I fell down into the chair beside him. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”
He scooted his chair closer to me and grabbed my hand. “See, I told you. Your parents said you’re doing awesome. We can’t wait to have you back home.”
I shut my eyes gently. “I miss you guys, too.” I was ready to get out of there. I missed my own bed. I missed my brother and my family. I missed him.
“And we’re planning a huge welcome home party.”
My head flew up. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
I shook my head back and forth a few times. “Absolutely not. People don’t have welcome home parties for getting out of places like this. That’s not happening.”
He hel
d a hand up to stop me from arguing. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He paused, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “Maybe.”
I groaned and rested my head down onto the table. “I will seriously hurt you,” I muttered. “Have you been to school?” I asked, dragging my head up. He nodded. “And?”
An eyebrow rose. “And what?”
“Do people think I’m a psycho freak?” I rushed out.
“I don’t know. I don’t talk to anyone besides Cody and Ollie.”
“What about Reese? Have you seen him?”
“I don’t give a shit about that asshole,” he replied tightly. “And you shouldn’t either.”
“I don’t.” I wasn’t lying. Reese had shown me his true colors, and they were the shitty ones.
“Do you know when you’re going to get out of here?” he asked, changing the subject. Reese was a sore topic for the both of us.
“No, but they said I’m progressing well, so I’m hoping by the end of the week,” I answered, repeating what my therapist had told me. She recommended I still do outpatient therapy to keep me on the right track when I was on my own.
He nodded his head. “Did you get my note?”
My stomach fluttered. “What note?”
His face fell. “Did you unpack your bag?”
“Yeah.”
“And you didn’t find anything?”
I shook my head. “Clothes? And thanks for the make-up, you did well for a newbie,” I said, smiling.
“And nothing else?” He asked curiously, rubbing the bottom of his stubbly chin anxiously.
“Like what?”
“Like a note?”
“Nope,” I said, watching his brows draw together in confusion. His face reminded me of a child who’d just dropped his entire ice cream cone on the floor. “Yes, I got your note,” I said, trying to hold back a smile. “I love it. I think I have almost every word memorized.”
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