Learning How to Swim

Good Ol' Beckham

Screams bounced off the walls as I walked down the empty white hall. My mother’s hands were trembling as she curled them into tight, nervous fists at her sides. My dad saw me glancing up at him and smiled reassuringly, though I didn’t buy it. I looked back down at my feet as I walked one step at a time.

Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right. Left.

“Honey.” I felt a small tap on my arm. My father looked down at me, jerking his head in the direction of a door. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

I nodded, not so sure. Ready or not, I had to see my sister. She had been admitted to the psychiatric ward in the Beckham Memorial Hospital in Charleston three days ago. We hadn’t been able to visit until today because she had been throwing tantrums and proving that she was entirely unstable.

Kara had bipolar depression.

I don’t know when it all started. We had always been really close, but had started drifting apart around a month ago. She had tried to hang herself in her own bedroom. Just four days ago everything had been normal. I think we were all still in shock.

We were led into a room by a short, rather chubby nurse. She didn’t look too happy to be there, but I guess the patients didn’t want to be there either. Anyway, in the room were quite a few round tables with six plastic, dull gray chairs at each. Some other families were there, too, but I was too busy looking for my older sister.

I thought I saw her, but that couldn’t be Kara-Felicia Roe. Her green eyes were much too dull and impassive to belong to our Kara; her thin blond hair was much too ratty to be my sister’s perfect golden locks; she was much too statuesque and lifeless to be the random, enthusiastic girl I knew.

She didn’t look at all like the girl I had grown up knowing. She was wearing a hospital gown and plain gray pants. Her bony legs were tucked under her tall, thin body as she waited in her seat at the table. Her eyes stayed on her hands even as we approached her.

“Kara?” I whispered, praying that she wouldn’t look because she’s not my sister.

She slowly turned her head to stare blankly at me through weary eyes. All the light was gone from her as she stared mutely at us. Maybe she cannot speak. Maybe this is all some horrible person’s idea of a sick, twisted prank.

But there was no way that a simple joke could break my sister so quickly.
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Warning: To my previous readers, you know what to expect. You know that I love writing about fantasy creatures. But in this story, I've decided to take a break from vampires and I think it was a breath of fresh air to write. I promise it will still be good (in my opinion) but I want to expand my stories rather than limit them to vampires. I don't think anyone should be too upset, but just a heads up: only normal (and occassionally dysfunctional) humans here! =D