Anything But Red
8
Minutes go by like hours, where I am left in solitude. I begin to count the amount of times I have counted the tiles on the ceiling and floor. And then there is a click.
I look up in time to see the door open. I feel like telling myself to run. It’s Jane. I look up and all I see is the memory of tear-stained eyes. Even now her eyes are bloodshot and cold. Her face, emotionless. I am trapped, suddenly wishing I had never been found.
“Hello Perry,” she says quietly. “May I sit down?”
I nod. There is a duffel bag in her hand. It’s mine.
I try to make out the words ‘I’m sorry’, but they get caught up in a choking throat and come out muffled.
“It’s alright,” She says. “Well… it’s not alright. We… We want to send you away.”
“I figured you would. It’s alright, you don’t need to feel bad,” I tell her.
She looks up, shocked. “No. We want to send you away to a rehab program, Perry. We want to help you.”
I am confused. “But… Marie…”
“Doctor’s say she will be fine with time. You have been through a lot. You have become part of our family, Perry… we want you to get better.”
I am left speechless. Thoughtless. I can’t process it. The thought of the toilet bowl comes to mind again. I look around. There is too much white. Jane stands out, a black spot along the wall.
“We are trying to give you a way out. Of course… it is up to you though, you're nearly eighteen. Do you understand what I’m asking you?”
My body is jerking in rebuttal, some raw and human part of me enraged. But, I find myself nodding, not yet consuming what it is that I am agreeing to, yet I somehow know that it is good.
I am afraid, but I find myself looking up into her eyes, and see a rare and strange story being revealed to me. It is a story I have never seen before. And it is ultimately one of compassion. It is the one that I cannot ignore. It out speaks the stories of hatred and destruction. The stories of pain. The stories of my life. It gives reason to something more. It gives reason to hope.
I look up in time to see the door open. I feel like telling myself to run. It’s Jane. I look up and all I see is the memory of tear-stained eyes. Even now her eyes are bloodshot and cold. Her face, emotionless. I am trapped, suddenly wishing I had never been found.
“Hello Perry,” she says quietly. “May I sit down?”
I nod. There is a duffel bag in her hand. It’s mine.
I try to make out the words ‘I’m sorry’, but they get caught up in a choking throat and come out muffled.
“It’s alright,” She says. “Well… it’s not alright. We… We want to send you away.”
“I figured you would. It’s alright, you don’t need to feel bad,” I tell her.
She looks up, shocked. “No. We want to send you away to a rehab program, Perry. We want to help you.”
I am confused. “But… Marie…”
“Doctor’s say she will be fine with time. You have been through a lot. You have become part of our family, Perry… we want you to get better.”
I am left speechless. Thoughtless. I can’t process it. The thought of the toilet bowl comes to mind again. I look around. There is too much white. Jane stands out, a black spot along the wall.
“We are trying to give you a way out. Of course… it is up to you though, you're nearly eighteen. Do you understand what I’m asking you?”
My body is jerking in rebuttal, some raw and human part of me enraged. But, I find myself nodding, not yet consuming what it is that I am agreeing to, yet I somehow know that it is good.
I am afraid, but I find myself looking up into her eyes, and see a rare and strange story being revealed to me. It is a story I have never seen before. And it is ultimately one of compassion. It is the one that I cannot ignore. It out speaks the stories of hatred and destruction. The stories of pain. The stories of my life. It gives reason to something more. It gives reason to hope.