Stitches
The End
By the end of it, I did feel different. Lying sideways in the chair like I’d just made myself at home with Angel’s number burning in my pocket and Austin’s memory burning in my mind, I felt different. But not in the way that BCM- a mental hospital disguised as a treatment center disguised as a behavioral center- wanted me to, I’m sure.
“I really like Thursdays. I just…dunno, have this thing for Thursdays. So I thought maybe I’d kill myself on Thursday,” Will says lowly.
“Today’s Thursday,” I tell him from across the table.
He nods with a slow smile, “They’ve got some spot on timing.”
I shrug, “Well there are many more Thursdays.”
It’s something Austin would say, I think immediately, and I wince a little and force a laugh because I feel bad afterwards. I think I scooped up the pieces of them they left behind. Or it could be the rush of the anticipation that I’ll be released today. That is, if my mom shows up. I keep telling everyone I’m leaving but it only makes Marvin roll his eyes because he’s just trying not to believe me and it pisses Sam off because he knows I am. The place is pretty dead now, without Angel and Austin and I think that’s why I pushed so hard to not have to stay that extra day. I couldn’t imagine a night in that room alone. Besides, Lynn left today too.
“They usually let me keep a pencil because they know I draw but other than that, we can’t have them. Oh, and none of them can have erasers either.”
Janice raises an eyebrow as she taps her crayon on the table.
“’Cause you might erase your skin off, you know.” I wink and her mouth drops with a laugh.
But the point is that I didn’t act like this when I first arrived at BCM. I feel like I’ve grown, like I’ve moved in. I feel like I’ve been here for a few years rather than a few days, but I’m not even thinking about what I’ll do when I’m out yet. I never really thought about it here. It was such a change that it was hard to… hard to think about what was going on in the world without you, as you were trapped on one floor of a hospital. It was hard to think about what you were missing and how you’d make it up.
I guess the fact that I didn’t even want to think about any of that could’ve contributed, but mostly I think that BCM isolated you so much that even your thoughts couldn’t go past the elevator and outside.
The new kids are pretty cool, the new girl Janice who has a Misfits hoodie and the new boys- Will, who’s a vegetarian and pretty funny and Ty, who drew caskets and jail cells all over his paper during art therapy. But they wouldn’t compare to those who left. And maybe they’ll be like that when I leave…or not. I remember Greg, who left the day I arrived and I don’t think of him much though Angel says they were friends (according to Angel, Angel was friends with everyone), but then again, Greg didn’t really talk to me for the three hours we were in here together.
Will asks me what I’m in for because he wasn’t here for community group and I tell him the things I didn’t tell the doctors and nurses and social workers since I’ve been here. He nods like he understands. It feels better than telling someone who’ll just scribble it on a paper and question and add more days to your stay. I’m a little braver because I know my discharge papers are already signed.
It’s quieter now, feels emptier and I feel required to say something for the lack of the boys. I don’t know what to call them, really, they don’t seem like friends. They just felt like roommates…or cell mates.
I just figure now that this place can’t be so bad when you meet people like Marvin, Lynn, Ainslie, Angel, and Austin. I wonder if without them, things would’ve changed. If they would’ve been worse or better, if this experience would be more traumatic than…than…whatever it is now. I wonder if they’ll become just another memory of BCM, just characters in the stories I’ll tell.
Even now, I’m not thinking about leaving and being able to go outside again as I please but about the nostalgia I’ll feel for this place. I’ve got this sly half smile on my face and right then, I really do feel better. It was quite the opposite just three days ago.
“So do you really think you learned anything here, Tristan?” Ms. Kendra says, looking up from her binder.
“Uh…um, yeah. I think so.” I nod, and turn back to the Maury episode on the TV. She doesn’t have me elaborate and I’m grateful because I don’t know what I’d say, it’s hard to put it all into words.
“I really like Thursdays. I just…dunno, have this thing for Thursdays. So I thought maybe I’d kill myself on Thursday,” Will says lowly.
“Today’s Thursday,” I tell him from across the table.
He nods with a slow smile, “They’ve got some spot on timing.”
I shrug, “Well there are many more Thursdays.”
It’s something Austin would say, I think immediately, and I wince a little and force a laugh because I feel bad afterwards. I think I scooped up the pieces of them they left behind. Or it could be the rush of the anticipation that I’ll be released today. That is, if my mom shows up. I keep telling everyone I’m leaving but it only makes Marvin roll his eyes because he’s just trying not to believe me and it pisses Sam off because he knows I am. The place is pretty dead now, without Angel and Austin and I think that’s why I pushed so hard to not have to stay that extra day. I couldn’t imagine a night in that room alone. Besides, Lynn left today too.
“They usually let me keep a pencil because they know I draw but other than that, we can’t have them. Oh, and none of them can have erasers either.”
Janice raises an eyebrow as she taps her crayon on the table.
“’Cause you might erase your skin off, you know.” I wink and her mouth drops with a laugh.
But the point is that I didn’t act like this when I first arrived at BCM. I feel like I’ve grown, like I’ve moved in. I feel like I’ve been here for a few years rather than a few days, but I’m not even thinking about what I’ll do when I’m out yet. I never really thought about it here. It was such a change that it was hard to… hard to think about what was going on in the world without you, as you were trapped on one floor of a hospital. It was hard to think about what you were missing and how you’d make it up.
I guess the fact that I didn’t even want to think about any of that could’ve contributed, but mostly I think that BCM isolated you so much that even your thoughts couldn’t go past the elevator and outside.
The new kids are pretty cool, the new girl Janice who has a Misfits hoodie and the new boys- Will, who’s a vegetarian and pretty funny and Ty, who drew caskets and jail cells all over his paper during art therapy. But they wouldn’t compare to those who left. And maybe they’ll be like that when I leave…or not. I remember Greg, who left the day I arrived and I don’t think of him much though Angel says they were friends (according to Angel, Angel was friends with everyone), but then again, Greg didn’t really talk to me for the three hours we were in here together.
Will asks me what I’m in for because he wasn’t here for community group and I tell him the things I didn’t tell the doctors and nurses and social workers since I’ve been here. He nods like he understands. It feels better than telling someone who’ll just scribble it on a paper and question and add more days to your stay. I’m a little braver because I know my discharge papers are already signed.
It’s quieter now, feels emptier and I feel required to say something for the lack of the boys. I don’t know what to call them, really, they don’t seem like friends. They just felt like roommates…or cell mates.
I just figure now that this place can’t be so bad when you meet people like Marvin, Lynn, Ainslie, Angel, and Austin. I wonder if without them, things would’ve changed. If they would’ve been worse or better, if this experience would be more traumatic than…than…whatever it is now. I wonder if they’ll become just another memory of BCM, just characters in the stories I’ll tell.
Even now, I’m not thinking about leaving and being able to go outside again as I please but about the nostalgia I’ll feel for this place. I’ve got this sly half smile on my face and right then, I really do feel better. It was quite the opposite just three days ago.
“So do you really think you learned anything here, Tristan?” Ms. Kendra says, looking up from her binder.
“Uh…um, yeah. I think so.” I nod, and turn back to the Maury episode on the TV. She doesn’t have me elaborate and I’m grateful because I don’t know what I’d say, it’s hard to put it all into words.
♠ ♠ ♠
prologue.shitty mental hospitals ftw ftl