Death is Black and White

So according to Natalie, Yuki has been diagnosed with mild schizophrenia, but was sent to this hospital because her family did a fantastic job of hiding the fact that she's a killer. Apparently she comes from a family that's part of some weird ancient competition in which she had to fight her best friend to the death. And to do that, she had to go through legitimate physical torture to prepare for it, which messed with her head- hence the schizophrenia. This competition is so secret that Yuki's best friend didnt even know about it until maybe a week before she was sent to fight. And even after death, her best friend follows Yuki everywhere, like their essences are attached. But know one knows about what Yuki's done and it's killing her.

"And you're saying you can get all of this information just from this ghost?" I ask skeptically. 

Natalie nods. "Her ghost was there during the, er, incident with Samantha, and since there's that weird connection between the two girls, I was able to see almost all of Yuki's memories through her friend." 

I can't sit still on the bed. I want to go find Samantha, explain to her everything about my life, maybe apologize for bringing her into it and not being more forceful about making her leave. I want to see if she's all right. 

"I don't feel right about all this," I say anxiously. "I feel like...the king in a game of chess. Everyone around me is moving around and getting hurt while I just sit here in the back and do nothing. I don't know why you're not letting me go see Samantha. Or letting me stop Yuki from being arrested." 

I glare at Natalie. She just shrugs uncomfortably. "I'm telling you, Yuki wants to go to jail. I dont know if that's exactly where they'll send her, but she feels like she got off the hook by getting sent here. She wants to be punished, even if it wasn't her fault that she killed her friend. It was her family's for forcing her to. And besides, what could you possibly do to stop them? From those gaurds' positions, it looked a lot like Yuki pushed her out that window. Do you really thing that the cops will believe you when they hear that it wasn't Yuki, it was a ghost that pushed her? All that would do is get you assigned some pretty new pills and a hospital gown."

I sigh heavily. "But what about Samantha?" 

"She'll be fine," Natalie says after a while. 

"Oh, sure," I retort. I'm kind of offended about Natalie's nonchalance.

"Seriously," Natalie replies. "Lissi  saw it herself. Samantha's probably in the emergency room downstairs where you stayed for your first couple of days here. She'll get out in two days with just a broken leg, a sprained wrist, and a couple of cuts from the glass. That's all." 

"But I'm worried," I whimper. Sam, who's sitting next to me, rests her head on my shoulder. It's comforting to have her and Josh here. Even if it's not supposed to be allowed. 

"It'll be okay," Natalie says, smiling gently at me. 

"Thanks," I sigh. I decide I'll have to go visit her once she gets a chance to calm down and assess the situation. We sit in silence for a while, but then I suppose that I should probably get back to my room. 

"I'll walk you there," Josh offers. I smile.

"Sam, do you want to come?" I ask her.

To my surprise, she declines and glances at Natalie. "Actually, I think I'll actually stay here for a while, I want to talk to Natalie," she decides.

Natalie blushes, probably because she hardly ever talks to any people other than Lissi, who's really mean to her most of the time. 

I grin and hug her goodbye. "I'm really sorry about this mess," I tell her. "We'll fix it. If anything good came out of today, it's that we know now that Lotty's not made of steel. And that White Lady had some impact on her; now we just have to figure out whose side she's on." 

She nods in agreement. 

"Soon things we will go back to normal," I say. "Thank you so much, Natalie. You too, Lissi." 

And then Josh and I leave them alone, and as the door swings shut Sam asks Natalie, "So what do the ghosts look like?" 

I laugh to myself. I should have known that's what Sam wanted to talk to Natalie about. We walk in silence to the elevator, then both reach to press the button at the same time. I blush and let Josh push the button, averting my eyes. He probably thinks I'm the most awkward person in existence.

The elevator clambers up the passage and the scratched up doors slide open. They need to be cleaned. I've always loved elevators; when I was little I thought they were magic because I felt like I was flying in some sort of windowless plane.

"Why didn't you tell me about your sister?" I ask Josh when the doors ding shut. 

He looks down at his feet. "I don't know," he says quietly, like he's embarrassed. "I guess the same reason you didn't want me to know about Lotty. I didn't want to be judged based on my sister's issues." 

I shrug. "I wouldn't have judged you. I mean, look where I am now."

He doesn't answer, just stares at the doors. After a while he says, "She's the reason I'm here, you know. That story about my parents wanting me to stay in school was bullshit." 

I look up at him, but he won't break his gaze from the doors. I realize that he's a good six inches taller than me. I always knew he was tall, but I feel so short next to him, standing shoulder to shoulder in this metal box. 

The doors open and he continues while we step out of the elevator. "Natalie was so sweet. She still is. But she was always a bit off. When she was five, she would act like two different people, and we just thought she was playing. But then she started hurting herself, like cutting and stuff. It got harder and harder to travel because she would slowly become more aggressive. She fought my parents about everything one day, and was back to normal the next. That's when we met Lissi. 

Lissi would cut her wrists and ankles whenever she thought Natalie was being weak, and sometimes when she just wanted attention. My parents freaked out. They stopped traveling and we moved to Charlotte. I was twelve, and Nat was ten. She was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder so we sent her here, and life went on. Lissi got less aggressive and we took her out of the hospital to live with us again, and we went back to traveling later that year. 

But last spring she had a meltdown and my parents just kind of... broke. Natalie barely ever talked anymore, it was just Lissi. She never wanted to work, she always complained about the crappy conditions of whatever disaster site we were working at.  Whenever Natalie did talk, she looked terrified out of her mind. I think that's when she started seeing ghosts. Lissi would have the psychic visions, and it freaked my parents out. They couldn't handle her, so this summer they shipped Nat back to Charlotte and wanted nothing to do with her. I had to practically beg them to let me come back home to keep her company. I've been visiting her once a week since I got here." 

I stare at him, wide-eyed. "That's terrible," is all I can say. 

He nods in agreement. "It's gotten better, although Lotty freaks Nat out. She always talked about "the little girl" when I came to visit, but I had no idea you were even staying here, so I never put two and two together." 

I bite my lip. "I can't believe your parents would just cart her off like that." 

"Ironic, isn't it?" he laughs dryly. "They seem so noble and strong when they're building houses in Haiti, but when it comes to their family my parents are cowards." 

I give him a sympathetic look. "Don't I know it. My mother takes one look at my wrist and she sends me to a rehab center."

"I can't believe you're even here," he says. "No offense, but your mom must know nothing about you if she thinks you would hurt yourself. I've only known you for two months and even I know you'd never do anything like this." 

He lifts up my left arm gently and pulls back my sleeve to look at the cut. 

"I can't believe I let this happen," he mutters. The words 'too late' are almost healed into pale white wisps of jagged letters on my forearm. 

"It doesn't hurt any more. Besides, there was nothing you could do. What were you going to do, tackle the girl with the knife? And look," I reach over and slip my right hand into his. "My hand's all better." 

"I'm glad," he says smiling, and we walk in silence for the rest of the trip to my room. 

I don't want him to leave, I just want to keep talking. "Can you stay just for a little bit longer?" I ask. I feel like as soon as he leaves, all the ties to my real life will just slip away, and I'll somehow forget about him and Sam.

He shrugs and follows me into the room, still holding my hand. He's so incredibly adorable. I sit on the floor at the edge of my bed and he slides down next to me, gazing at my "art" on the walls. 

Before he can ask any questions or comment on the walls, I try to start a different subject than Lotty. I'm so done talking about her right now. 

"Be honest," I say. "What are people saying about me at school?" 

He raises his eyebrows, carefully contemplating what he's about to say. "Well...truthfully, there's been a lot of shit. Some people think you died. Um, there's a couple that don't even know who you are, no offense," -whatever, I'm used to being a quintessential nobody- "some people have stuck up for you, which is good. Like I'm not good with names since I just transferred from Saint Mary's, but there's been a few people that are actually a little worried." 

I smile at that. I didn't know people even gave me a second thought. "So people haven't been, like, calling me a psycho or anything?" 

"Nah," he reassures me. "Most people don't even know you're in rehab, let alone why. They just think you're skipping an obscene amount of school." 

"Idiots," I mutter, smiling. "You know, Adam's probably going to start shit." 

"I'll kick his ass," Josh promises, and he looks pretty serious. I roll my eyes. 

"Josh, I don't care if the school thinks I'm a serial killer; no one there matters to me. You don't have to beat up Adam every time he says something mean about me. He may be pretty, but he seems pretty keen to fight. He's a loser, don't give him the satisfaction." 

He sighs. "You're right, he's an ass. But he shouldn't be going around calling you schizophrenic." 

I shrug casually. "Why not? Who's to say I'm not schizophrenic?" I laugh. "I argue with my more logical self on practically a daily basis! I seem to think there's a ghost who wants my soul. What's normal about that? I deserve to be ridiculed." 

And damn, we're back on the subject of Lotty. 

"You do not," Josh argues. "And everyone does that, it's called having a conscience. You're not insane." 

I roll my eye again. "Even if I'm not, aren't the best of us a bit bonkers?" 

He laughs, and I take this opportunity to change the subject. "Has my family forgotten about me yet?" I ask. 

"What? I'm sure they haven't," Josh reassures me. 

"But maybe they have. Mom's still mad at me for what I did to her at the hospital. She's ashamed of me for cutting myself, and she's scared of me for thinking I see ghosts. She thinks I'm insane." 

"She can't," he says, but there's a trace if doubt in his voice. "I'm sure they'll come and get you soon." 

"They were supposed to a week ago. They told me it was a two week program, so what the hell am I still doing here?" I complain. 

"Maybe they don't think you've made progress," he suggests. 

"I haven't cut myself once since I got here," I point out. "Is that not progress? I hate it here. I just want to go back to my dad's house, where my room is neat and I have music and art and I can look out the window and see trees, not an ugly parking lot. I want to see my sister have her baby, not sit here and wonder when I'm actually going to meet my niece. I mean how can you hate your daughter so much that you could deprive her of that?" 

My eyes sting like I'm about to cry, but I'm so sick of crying all the time. 

Josh squeezes my hand and I rest my head on his shoulder. "It'll be okay," he says comfortingly. "You'll get out if here soon, and then everything will get back to normal, just like you said." 

I shake my eyes. "I don't know why I even said it, Josh. Things won't be normal because I'm going to die. I don't know why everybody keeps denying it. You're all like 'I won't let you die, we can stop Lotty!' when we can't. She'll just strangle anyone who gets in her way. Throw them out a window, maybe. We're teenagers, we're not immortal."

Josh takes a deep breath. "I'll talk to your parents. There's no point in you being here if there's nothing wrong with you, right?" 

"Mhmm," I agree. "Thanks." 

"You're welcome," he says. 

"So you're living with Sam now?" I ask, changing the subject. 

He laughs. "Yeah, that's gonna be an adventure." 

"She'll probably dye your hair pink in your sleep, I swear!" I say. 

"Don't give her any ideas! I'd like to maintain this stylish shade of roadkill brown, thank you very much," he replies. 

And we joke around for another hour and a half before he has to leave.