Bone House
when death is on the loose;
After Margie’s death everyone seemed to be utterly astonished by it.
They would say,
“She was the sweetest girl!”
Or.
“Why would she do something like that, she was so healthy!”
Ha. No one noticed the real girl. I knew how she was, Margie. Everything was an act. She wasn’t getting healthy, she hated herself. She just pretended. She wanted to be perfect, but really, she was probably the sickest out of all of us.
That day, they added another session of therapy to our schedules. They wanted us to talk about our horrible grief over Margie’s lost.
But the truth was, I didn’t want to cry and talk about it. Truthfully, I wanted to have a party. To celebrate the death of Margie Owens. Oh joy to the world; I was finally rid of her. Maybe I was just heartless. You couldn’t judge me though; there was a reason why I was staying here in the first place. I already knew I was sick.
“Well, I know you weren’t the biggest fan of Miss Margie but you must have some feeling to Margie’s death, no?”
Oh how I wanted to mock Dr. Mills words dearly but at the same time, tell the complete truth.
Well, Dr. Mills, the truth is, I’m actually quite ecstatic about her death. I was actually trying to convince Nurse Laurie to make a banner and tie some balloons to the wall, just to show how overjoyed I am.
“Terrible loss, truly.”
I lied through my teeth. Dr. Mills didn’t seem to mind though or notice; instead he just nodded and wrote on that notebook of his. This happened frequently in therapy sessions.
“And how does that make you feel?”
Delighted?
Pleased?
Lucky?
“I feel utter sorrow, Doctor Mills. If you don’t mind, I would like to cut this session short, I don’t feel like talking about this, just yet. It’s too soon.”
Lies.
Lies.
Lies.
I’m pretty sure there is a special place in hell just for me, and today, it became official.
“That seems far enough, Violet. I’ll be sure to send a nurse in a couple hours to check up on you.”
I nodded, standing up from the office chair and proceeding to exit Dr. Mills’ office.
Once I had made it back to my room I saw Stephanie on her bed, book in hand. I didn’t much talk to Stephanie, my room mate, mostly because she didn’t talk to me, or anyone for that fact. She was, what I believe, a recovering druggie and was new here. She mostly kept to herself. I wondered if she didn’t care about Margie’s death as well. I didn’t ask her though. Never getting to really know her, I never really truly got to find out how crazy she was. For all I know, she could be totally delirious, quiet or not. Crazy is crazy.
And trust me, I have experience with crazy people.
They would say,
“She was the sweetest girl!”
Or.
“Why would she do something like that, she was so healthy!”
Ha. No one noticed the real girl. I knew how she was, Margie. Everything was an act. She wasn’t getting healthy, she hated herself. She just pretended. She wanted to be perfect, but really, she was probably the sickest out of all of us.
That day, they added another session of therapy to our schedules. They wanted us to talk about our horrible grief over Margie’s lost.
But the truth was, I didn’t want to cry and talk about it. Truthfully, I wanted to have a party. To celebrate the death of Margie Owens. Oh joy to the world; I was finally rid of her. Maybe I was just heartless. You couldn’t judge me though; there was a reason why I was staying here in the first place. I already knew I was sick.
“Well, I know you weren’t the biggest fan of Miss Margie but you must have some feeling to Margie’s death, no?”
Oh how I wanted to mock Dr. Mills words dearly but at the same time, tell the complete truth.
Well, Dr. Mills, the truth is, I’m actually quite ecstatic about her death. I was actually trying to convince Nurse Laurie to make a banner and tie some balloons to the wall, just to show how overjoyed I am.
“Terrible loss, truly.”
I lied through my teeth. Dr. Mills didn’t seem to mind though or notice; instead he just nodded and wrote on that notebook of his. This happened frequently in therapy sessions.
“And how does that make you feel?”
Delighted?
Pleased?
Lucky?
“I feel utter sorrow, Doctor Mills. If you don’t mind, I would like to cut this session short, I don’t feel like talking about this, just yet. It’s too soon.”
Lies.
Lies.
Lies.
I’m pretty sure there is a special place in hell just for me, and today, it became official.
“That seems far enough, Violet. I’ll be sure to send a nurse in a couple hours to check up on you.”
I nodded, standing up from the office chair and proceeding to exit Dr. Mills’ office.
Once I had made it back to my room I saw Stephanie on her bed, book in hand. I didn’t much talk to Stephanie, my room mate, mostly because she didn’t talk to me, or anyone for that fact. She was, what I believe, a recovering druggie and was new here. She mostly kept to herself. I wondered if she didn’t care about Margie’s death as well. I didn’t ask her though. Never getting to really know her, I never really truly got to find out how crazy she was. For all I know, she could be totally delirious, quiet or not. Crazy is crazy.
And trust me, I have experience with crazy people.