Dark Side

“I don't know,” I mumbled as my eyes stared at my pale fingers that pulled at the string of the couch that I was seated in. The room was quiet, I hated how awkward it got, the silence wasn't doing so well for me. I peeked up at my therapist, Laura, who was sitting patiently with one leg crossed over the other. Her pen laid lightly on her lip as her gaze peered into my head, like she was trying to find something.

Laura sighed, taking the pen out of her mouth and scribbling more useless comments on her notepad. I sat still, feebly looking around the room, already familiar with the place I'd been forced to open up in. But I was not doing as well of a job as I'd hoped, as well as they'd hoped. It was harder than I thought, actually hearing questions that shot burns into my chest. My mouth would hardly open with an answer, my brain was malfunctioning, what should I say? How could I explain this? What will happen if I explain my pain to someone who I don't even know? Trust was scarce in this situation and I didn't tend on feeding a stranger my words without it.

I used to understand what the point of therapy was; you talked and talk, opening up to a person who was paid to act like they cared – but you were supposed to ignore that fact and just open up. You were supposed to tell them everything from what happened when you were seven, to what you had for breakfast this morning. Useless information placed in your chart that would be read over and over by doctors as they tried their best to diagnose you with an illness and send you home with pills. I used to ignore all of that until I came here. I may not have been here long, but I could see it throughout the building. Tons of therapists and doctors, they acted differently than they did at out patient clinics. I felt more secluded, my mind told me it was safe but I couldn't let that thought trick me into saying anything.

“Lana,” Laura's voice broke me out of my thoughts. I looked up sheepishly and chewed on my lip, “what are you thinking about?”

I could feel my chest tightening, my hands hid under my legs as they squeezed tightly together. “Nothing is going on in my head.”

She nodded, “Are you sure about that? Your body language and your facial expressions are a dead giveaway. Why won't you tell me what you're thinking?” I stared at her face, it was different than the rest; her eyes showed concern while her face was serene and peaceful.

My head shook as I felt a tear threaten to fall, “I just don't like this here, alright? I don't see the point in being here.”

“Are you sure that's what you really think, Lana?” I let out a small groan and looked down at my lap, becoming irritated. I could feel the room closing in as she repeated her question, like she already knew the answer. I kept quiet, praying for time to be up, praying that I could go back to my room and sleep until Group B started. I closed my eyes tightly and whispered to myself, until Laura spoke up. “Well you've seemed to dodge this question. But I'm sure you will get better at this and hopefully you can go home sooner. You're free to go,” I let out a sigh and nodded my head, pushing myself up from the seat and walking to the door. I felt weak as I pulled it open and headed towards my room. I could feel the heaviness press down on my shoulders as I wiped tears away from my eyes. After entering my room, I ignored the roommates questions and fell onto my bed, pulling the covers over my head and shutting out the world.

~

I had only been in the hospital a couple of days and sadly, I had gotten used to being there. I didn't like the thought of where I was, nor could I actually stand many of the girls in the ward. This morning I had woken up in a cold sweat, instantly forgetting what I'd dreamed about. Amy, the group leader yelled down the hall, telling everyone to wake up get their hygiene done. Throwing the thick blanket off of my legs I grabbed my sweats and a shirt and headed for the showers. I needed to have the door cracked so the monitors could keep an eye out just in case I did something. As of now, I was on what they called SI, S, and ED. SI stood for Self Injury, S stood for Suicide, and ED stood for Eating Disorder. Everyone in the ward had diagnostic labels that informed all the doctors and nurses what danger we were in to ourselves and to others. There were things such as RA which meant Run Away, and A which meant Anger. So for me, being what I was, S was the most dangerous, at least to myself.

I hid in the corner of my shower, letting the warm water running down my skin. I gently lift my sore arm under the water to wash the stitches from my deep incisions. Thankfully, there was no pain from the wash. After getting out of the shower and getting dressed in my comfy clothes, I headed to the nurses station where I took my new antidepressant meds and got a new bandage wrap on my wrists. My mouth stayed closed as I entered the day room, where all of the girls sat, quietly talking about things not suitable for my ears. The breakfast cart came only a few minutes after me and all of the girls grabbed the boxes with their name on it and took it to their seat. I sat where I was and stared out of the window. I suddenly got the urge to cry, and I swore I felt a sob coming up. When I heard my name being called, I swallowed it down and turned to the front. Amy sat in her chair and looked at me with concern.

“Aren't you going to get your breakfast?” My teeth bit the insides of my cheeks, forcing me not to speak. I shook my head and ignored the stares from the rest of the girls. “Well you're going to need to eat sooner or later, Lana.”

I sighed, getting up from my seat and grabbing my box that sat alone on the cart. Once my body relaxed on the chair, my hands shook as they opened the box. A box of Fruitloops, a carton of milk, apple juice, and a bagel. I stared blankly at the food in front of me, unsure as of what I should be doing with it.

“Alright, girls, while you all eat, we are going to go around the room and talk about why we are here and how we are all feeling. Remember not to hold back; be honest and don't be afraid.” Amy sounded so sure of herself, she seemed to be fine. Well, she was fine. She wasn't forced to be in here. She wasn't sick. She wasn't crazy.

We started with Kendall, she was anorexic, her disorder was a lot worse than mine. Her arms were as thing as her legs, her face gaunt. She would have been prettier if her face was fuller. I couldn't believe I was diagnosed with this disorder when there were girls far worse than me. I suddenly felt horrible about myself. Why was I doing that to myself? Did others look at me the way I looked at Kendall and feel pity?

Kendall sighed as she tore apart her bagel, her scrawny fingers almost matching the paleness of the bread. “My name is Kendall, I'm here because I'm anorexic, and I'm really tired, I guess. I couldn't sleep so well last night.”

“Do you want to talk about why you couldn't sleep?” Amy prodded, holding her pen strictly between her thumb and pointer finger.

Kendall shrugged, “Why would I talk about it if I don't know the reason?” I bit my lip, I wanted to agree with her, because she was right. Luckily, Amy didn't press and further.

The next girl was bleach blonde, she didn't need any make up to be pretty. She seemed normal if you glanced at her. But if you looked closer and stared as the detail, you could see the scars that covered the left side of her face. They were small nicks that made realistic patterns. “I'm Madison and as you can tell, I have scars from my nails because I pick at my face. They aren't sure what it is that I'm diagnosed with, and my parents sure as hell don't care.” She rolled her eyes and looked at Amy. “I'm exhausted, can I go back to bed?” Amy rolled her eyes and smirked at her, amused at her question when she should already know the answer.

I wasn't totally paying attention when all of the group's eyes landed on me. I sat there confused, until Amy mentioned my name. I swallowed roughly and looked around, not necessarily caring about what they thought of me, but caring about what I thought of myself. My raspy voice mumbled, “My name is Lana, I'm here because I have an eating disorder, I'm suicidal and I cut myself. I'm pretty exhausted as the rest of them.” I felt relieved yet sick to my stomach. I seemed to be the biggest fuck up in the ward, unless you included Amber, who screamed every five minutes due to a malfunction in the frontal lobe of her brain. Amy smiled gently at me, appreciating my participation.

The next girl sat next to Nancy, an overweight girl with an hilarious laugh. Her name was Ericka and she wasn't just my new friend, but she was also my roommate. She seemed normal, as did many of the other girls who had been introducing themselves, but in reality, she was just like me, suicidal and as reckless as the rest. Her smile caught on when it was her turn. “I'm Ericka, I'm here for my suicidal attempts, I'm actually pretty hyped up, no thanks to this boring fucks over here,” She gestured to me and the other girls and laugh, winking at me. I smiled and quietly chuckled. The rest of the girls went on explaining their reasons as to why they were here and how they felt today. It was almost natural, just sitting here in a room full over girls as we all talked and got to know each other. When I had first gotten here I stayed quiet and kept to myself, until Ericka came along and pulled me out of the shadows. Still, I wasn't quite fond of being here, but if it kept me away from tearing myself apart again, it was all that I needed.

As the next hour passed by, turning from Group B into lunch, and then DBT Skills to free time, kept myself in the back of the room with a note book, doodling random pictures and listening to the radio. I enjoyed the fact that when told I was Liam Payne's sister, and almost Harry Style's girlfriend, no one hounded me about it – except for Ericka, who did fancy them a bit. She would tease me about it sometimes, especially when one of their songs came on the radio. But today was different, the boys would be on the radio for an interview, and from the phone call with Liam, who had taken this so much better than Harry was, the interview was to clear up the mess that was made not long ago. With Amy giving me the 'ok' to hog the radio to Ericka and myself, we sat next to the radio and listened as the interviewer named Gwen introduced the boys on air. My heart warmed up at the sound of their voices, but when I heard Harry's, my face fell and I felt worthless. I knew the boys had to try their best to keep a smile on, and for that I was happy. Liam sounded a bit better but Harry, knowing he had taken it the worst, didn't try and hide it.

“So boys, you're here today to clear the air up about some things that have happened recently, can you explain?” Gwen sounded perky and definitely uninterested in the actual story.

Liam sighed, “A few weeks ago fans on twitter went about tweeting horrible things to my sister, Lana. And though I can't even begin to -” He stopped mid sentence and I could almost picture him shaking his head.

Louis spoke up just then, “Some nasty things were said to her, and it's very unforgivable. To push someone as far as -”

“Killing themselves, yeah?” Gwen spoke up, no concern in her voice whatsoever. I felt Ericka squeeze my shoulder in reassurance as I flinched at her voice. “Harry, she is your girlfriend, and by the looks of it you haven't been taking it too well, have you? I'm sure the fans are -”

“Those are not fans.” He snapped, his voice cracked. That didn't sound like my Harry; because that sounded weak and worn out, you could hear him sniffle every so often as he would try to contain himself from making a mess of tears. “Fans do not threaten loved ones. Especially fans of us – if they were fans of us they would support whoever any of us are with no matter what our girlfriends' past hold. No fan of mine threatens my girlfriend, calls her those horrible fucking names, or tells her to fucking kill herself. Those are not fans, they aren't even people. They're jealous little children who secretly cry to themselves because they will never be with any of us. And you know what, it is no wonder why none of us would date any of those jokes. I don't understand -”

“Harry, calm down,” Liam whispered.

“No, Liam, I'm not going to calm down. I do not understand what goes on in these fans' heads but it's disgusting and cruel and I don't want to be in a band that has fans like that.”

“Mate, you need to -”

“Dammit Louis, don't try and stop this from happening. None of you have the right to tell me to calm down or tell me that it's going to be okay because it's not. Because of selfish and jealous people, the love of my life tried to kill herself!” I listened as the boys tried to reason with Harry, but from the sounds of it he had only gotten started. I could hear the shuffling around in the speakers.

“God dammit,” I whispered, my head leaning on my knees while Ericka began to rub my back. The tears slowly began to stream their way down my face as I let out small sobs. I shook my head slowly and whispered for it to stop.

“I'm not going to stick around in a place like this and try and act happy. I'm not going to perform for people who have no heart and no concern for others. I'm done with One Direction.” Harry yelled before a door slammed. Gwen cleared her throat and quickly changed the subject before the interview ended. My head snapped up, my eyes widened as tears fell down my face.

“No.” I cried as I struggled to my feet. I looked at Ericka who looked desperate. “No no no, fuck.” I ran over to Amy who suddenly dropped what she was doing and pulled me in her arms. “I need to make a phone call right now, Amy.” She kept quiet and nodded, pulling my out of the room and over to the phones. As she left me in the hallway with the phone in my hand I repeatedly dialed Harry's number, with no answer each time. Curses slipped through my mouth as I dialed again and again while I wiped tears off my face. And then I just gave up, slamming the phone down and getting to my feet. As I walked over to the door Kim, the nurse called my name.

“Lana, you have a visitor.” She buzzed the other door open and I walked through while trying to wipe my eyes.

Looking up, my knees got weak once again. The first time seeing him in person since I entered the hospital felt like a turn around. A gasp escaped my lips as another tear fell down my cheek. I looked up into those large green eyes and froze.

“I'm sorry it took so long for me to get up the courage to come see you.” His eyes were red from the crying, his face blotchy and still wet. I shook my head and let my tears fall as I ran into his arms and locked my arms and legs around him.

“But you're here.” I cried.