“Who are you?” The figure in the mirror frowns, unsure,
afraid, confused, “Who are you?” The
frown twists into a look of rage and disgust, “How can you even stand to exist?
You’re pathetic!” Tears twinkle at the corner of vivid green eyes, but the hate
remains, “Why can’t you change? Why can’t I finally be normal?!” Fists crash
against the mirror, cracking and distorting the reflection. With a mindless
drive the fists continued to fall, disregarding the cuts from falling shards.
Blood splatters across the remnants of the mirror, distorting the image even
further. “Why?!” The scream cracks
through the air, and the last shards of glass twinkle to the floor. “You sicken
me.”
“Eve?!?!”
«¤»
They’re watching me. They won’t admit it, but that’s why I’m
still here. They’re afraid that I’ll lose it and try to commit suicide. They
think I’m crazy. Maybe I am. I don’t remember what caused the breakdown, but I
do know that everyone is freaked. They keep discussing it, just outside the
door. I catch certain words and phrases, medication
and therapist are thrown around a
lot. I suppose I should be afraid, or angry, or just worried, but I’m not. The
part of me that cries for those emotions has locked itself away, as if to avoid
the turmoil that must be brewing in my soul. My soul, my heart, where did they
go?
All that remains is thought. And my mind is a very scary
place.
“Eve?
Sweety? Are you there?” She asks the question to see if I’m there, here, mentally aware. As if I
could leave this white walled prison. I look up so her and give her a blank
stare,
“Where else could I be?” She sighs and sits down on the end of the bland
white medical bed,
“I know this
can’t be easy for you,” she gives my blanketed foot a soft squeeze, “but
whatever it is that makes you feel this way, we can fix it.” I stare at her
blankly,
“What do you
mean? It isn’t anything wrong with me,” I fall back into the mass of cold,
white pillows behind me and gaze at the ceiling, “I want to go home. I don’t
like it here.” I can’t see it, but I feel her bristle,
“I don’t
know if that is what is best for you…” I sigh, and close my eyes,
“I guess I
can’t convince you I’m not crazy,” my voice shows no emotion, but inside I’m
screaming. Every nerve in my body is blazing, aware. Without another word, the
woman who pretends to be my mother leaves, abandoning me in a cage of white and
chrome.
«¤»
Another day, another meaningless day.
It’s almost a song, a tuneless hum that thrums just at the
back of my mind.
Another day, another meaningless day.
Still confined to this hospital bed. Still trapped in this
medical dungeon.
Another day, another meaningless day.
«¤»
Freedom. I never thought it meant anything until I’d lost it.
I feel… free.
My ‘mother’ agreed
to let me come home if I took some happy pills and see a therapist to discuss
my ‘recovery’. So now I’m walking out the automagically opening doors of the
white walled prison that confined me for two weeks. It’s a damp, drizzly day.
The sky is ashen and the air is almost too thick to breathe, and yet I feel as
if I could run a marathon or sing an opera. The dark cloak draped over my soul
lifts, and my spirit sings. A drop of water plops onto my nose and I look up
dazed at the sky. A cold, bony hand snags my am and jerks me toward the car.
“Come on,
you’re going to get wet.” I walk hurriedly to the car, occasionally glancing
behind me to watch the fat, juicy drops of water fall to the ground.
As I slide
onto the passenger side seat, I’m fascinated by everything I see. The glowing
buttons, knobs, and switches seem as foreign to me as little green men or outer
space. I watch in further fascination as my escort of a mum starts the car. The
keys twinkle against each other, the ignition clicks, then the engine purrs to
life. The lack of noise used to disturb me, but at this moment, I’m thankful
for the muted noise. I stare out the window, taking in all the fascinating
things in the world, rediscovering the city I’d thought I knew.
As we pull
into the driveway of the two story gothic house I’d missed so much, the euphoria
had already begun to fade. My new psychedelic world was fading to gray. And
then I see Alice.
Memories
flood through my mind; Tea parties with stuffed animals, soccer in the park, gushing
over our first crushes, shopping at the mall, soccer championships, freshmen
and sophomore years in high school, all the things that sisters should share.
Before the car even stops, I leap out the door and dash through the yard toward
her. Hot tears streak down my face as I hold her in my arms. I sink my face
into hair and breathe in her familiar scent, my shoulders shaking, my chest
racked with sobs.
“Alice…” She
lifts my face with hands of pale silk,
“What did
they do to you?” Tears twinkle next to her emerald eyes, and I’m speechless.
She lightly brushes the tears from my face, “It’s alright Eve, you’re here now.
Nothing can hurt you anymore.” She hugs me again, holding me tight. We step
away from each other as Mother Dearest approaches us.
“I see you
two are as close as ever,” she seems relieved, almost as if she expected us not
to be. Alice nods, and I just stare blankly. She looks back and forth between
the two of us,
“Well I
suppose you’ll want to go upstairs and regale each other with tales of your
exploits. Just come downstairs whenever you get hungry.” And with that she turns
toward the door, and quickly disappears inside.
Alice grabs
my wrist, gently, and tugs me toward the house, I hesitate at first, not
wanting to follow the women who’d gone inside, but Alice tugs once more, and I
decide to follow.
Once more
I’m struck by the things I’d forgotten, the sparkling wooden floors, the
leather furniture, the large paintings. I suddenly realize how pompous it all
seems, the overabundance of lavish decorations in a seemingly plain home. But these thoughts last only for a few
seconds, because as I follow Alice upstairs, the scene quickly changes. Softer,
less modern decorations line the pale green walls, and as we reach my room a
feeling of security eases my hyperactive brain.
Alice enters the room first, and then turns to
face me, apprehensive to how I may react. The familiarity of the room, and the
objects in it, are soothing. I slowly cross the room, headed toward my desk. A
purple fitness ball rests between the legs of the black metal, and various CDs,
notebooks, sketches, and photos litter the top. I run my fingers across the papers,
reading a phrase here, a line there, but as I read, a feeling of unease slowly
grows in my stomach. I feel like a stranger walking into some else’s life; the words
that used to be mine felt unfamiliar, the pictures that used to me look like
someone else, and the room around me fades more and more from familiar
to hostile. A suspicion creeps
across my mind, the kind of paranoia that eats at your mind, poisoning your
thoughts and tainting your actions; making it hard to think, hard to
breathe. I spin to Alice,
“Could I…
Maybe have some time to myself?” Alice looks as if she’s been slapped, and I
quickly throw a fake smile on my face, “I just want to spend some time in my
room, yah know?” A fake but convincing laughs escapes my lips, “I haven’t been
here for a while, I just want to reacquaint myself with my stuff,” I walk over
and hug her, squeezing her gently, “We can talk after dinner, ‘kay?” Alice nods
-a hint of smile gracing her face- then slips out the door toward her room. I
hear the soft click of her door
closing, and I relax. I close my own door, then lay down on the black comforter
carefully spread out on my bed. The thoughts I’d tried to repress come bubbling
to the surface.
