The Hospital

Six months ago I never would’ve thought that we’d be down this road again. Just as before, mom was in the passenger seat, shoulders shaking as she tried not to sob. Funny, she didn’t cry when we sent Charlotte away. Dad was driving as usual, all his built up stress being released on our poor steering wheel, which mom and I always joked wasn’t going to last long from all the times dad became upset while driving.

Looking out the window I saw that nothing about this small town had changed a bit. The General Store was still dilapidated and gross, with fading signs advertising half priced things that nobody wanted. Charlotte would’ve loved this place, and I wondered if she’d seen it the last time we were here, or if she was too afraid to notice anything.

I felt a little scared now, but mostly just angry with my parents for sending me away as they had with my twin, both of them choosing to believe us to be insane, but they were wrong like always. Charlotte only had a small problem was all, nothing some therapy wouldn’t have cured, but whatever, there was no changing their minds now.

When dad turned the car down a little side street I started to feel an odd sensation of dread in my stomach, and I knew we were getting close. I saw a few tears running down mom’s face and barely resisted the urge to hug her from the back seat. Beside me Janie stared straight ahead, a sad expression on her face.

Five minutes later I saw the gravel driveway with the same evil white sign before it, the words Villagecreek Mental Institution craftily painted in jet black letters, and I felt the dread in my stomach evolve into nausea. If we hadn’t stopped the vehicle when we did I know I would’ve vomited all over the place.

I turned to face the horrible prison I’d now be calling home; my eyes took in the dark bricks and many windows of the giant, ancient building. It looked like something straight out of a horror movie, which might’ve been cool despite the circumstances. I briefly wondered how Charlotte was holding up in such a place, granted it looked as old and scary on the inside as it did on the outside. With a smile I remembered how much Charlotte hated horror movies.

Mom got out of the car to knock on the huge front door and was soon faced with a tiny little nurse with fiery red hair and a smile that seemed too bright and happy for this institution. After a couple of slow moving minutes mom led the nurse out to the car. I could feel Janie watching me but didn’t dare look back, knowing that she’d only see the fear in my eyes.

The sound of my door opening brought my attention back to the present, and I exited the vehicle, closing the door behind us after making sure Janie was out. From the corner of my eye, I saw mom purse her lips in concern, and I rolled my eyes.

“And so this is Rachel,” the little nurse at mom’s side said happily, her voice just as annoying as the rest of her seemed to be. No one said anything in return, and after a few minutes of awkward silence the woman cleared her throat.

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” she said, gesturing for mom and me to follow her, completely ignoring Janie, much like everyone usually does.

I could almost hear the creepy music as we marched through the front doors and into the pristine white lobby. The only thing that would’ve made this place scarier was a disembodied scream coming from some torture chamber we weren’t supposed to know about. The place reeked of sadness and floor polish.

Nurses walked with patients or pushed them down the multitude of hallways that branched off of the lobby in little wheelchairs equipped with arm and leg straps, and I hoped I’d never have to be in such a vulnerable position. Red haired lady went and conversed for a brief moment with the secretary at the front desk before ushering us down one of the hallways, the whole time rattling off the history of the hospital that no one cared enough to listen to.

Many stupid facts later we arrived at my new room and the nurse unlocked it for us. It was a rather small room, with a twin bed in one corner and a little desk pressed up against a wall across the room. There were no windows to be seen, nor was there a closet or anything to put my backpack in.

I sat down on the bed, which turned out to be incredibly uncomfortable, and listened to my mom assure the nurse that I was a good little girl who always did as she was told and never caused any trouble. If that were true though they probably wouldn’t have sent me here.

I didn’t really care about the lies mom was telling; all I cared about was finding Charlotte. In the six months that she’d been here she hadn’t bothered to send any letters or call us on the phone (which I know they have, because I heard the nurse telling us about them), and I was starting to get a little worried. People always told Charlotte and I that twins have a connection to one another, but I hadn’t gotten any vibes or whatever in all this time; it made me wonder what had happened to her.

The sudden hug from mom pulled me from my thoughts, but I didn’t reciprocate it. She whispered promises on my deaf ears; of weekly visits and daily letters. I wonder if dad made the same promises to Charlotte before we left and never came back. Mom didn’t hug Janie, and left with one last “I love you.”

As soon as mom turned the corner the air in the room shifted and the temperature seemed to drop a considerable amount. Red haired lady, I still hadn’t bothered to read her nametag, turned and gave me the most menacing smile I’d ever seen before backing out of the room and shutting the door. I heard the lock click behind her. From beside me Janie sighed.