Vodka and Lemonade

“Hi, I’m Darla, how can I help you?” a petite brunette asked.

“I-um, a friend dropped me off. I need a place to crash for awhile.”

Darla smiled and nodded. “Ok, what’s your name?” she asked, very cheery.

I looked around the place, noticing that there were many people around my age lounging about. I didn’t recognize anyone. “Danni.”

“Alright, Danni, right this way,” she said before turning down a long hallway. “Now, we’re only a day shelter, but we provide hot meals, showers, hygiene supplies, transportation, mail and internet services, and many other services. We even provide field trips to specialty neighborhoods, this week we’re going to a gourmet restraint to learn about cooking. And we also have educational programs.”

“You can teach me to read?” I asked weakly.

She stopped and looked back at me. “Of course. Whatever you want to learn, we’ll teach you.”

“And it’s all free?”

She smiled. “Yes, and don’t worry, you have nothing to fear. This is a safe place where people don’t judge.”

“No matter what I’ve done? You won’t tell the police I’m here?”

She sighed and took a small step closer to me. “Danni, you could have killed dozens of people, but I wouldn’t tell anyone, and neither will anyone else here.”

I looked away and shuffled my feet.

“Hey, it’s no pressure. When you’re willing to talk, we’re willing to listen,” she smiled and opened up a room. “This is an old dance studio. I know it doesn’t look like much, but it has a couch and a shower. If you want, I can even get you an extra set of clothes.”

I lifted my backpack. “I have clothes.”

Darla nodded. “Ok, well, like I said, there’s a couch and a shower, as well as blankets and pillows. No one really comes back here, so you don’t have to worry about people barging in on you. Dinner is served from five to seven and we close at nine. If you need me, I’ll be in the front lounge”

“Thank you,” I whispered, clutching my backpack to my chest.

Darla nodded again. “Anytime,” she said before walking away and closing the door behind her.

I looked around the room. It was lined with mirrors and rails and had a hard wood floor. In the far right corner sat a green couch and what looked like an old TV. Sighing, I walked into the middle of the room and looked at the wall of mirrors. The girl staring back at me was slightly tanned. Her hair wasn’t a tangled mess anymore, and she had some meat on her bones…but her eyes were just as dead as they were two weeks ago. I ran my hand through my long black hair.

“This isn’t the real Danielle Patterson. I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know who I am, but I know this is not the real me.” I broke eye contact with my reflection and walked toward the couch. “Maybe this place can help me find myself.”