Tunnel Vision

Elaina’s sleeping body thrashed around in bed, the sheets tangling around her body, making her subconsciously feel trapped. Her legs kicked at the blankets constraining her limbs, sweat forming along her brows and on the back of her neck. Her skin was hot and clammy, almost like she was suffering from a fever. Her closed eyes twitched and crinkled as the nightmare plagued on, whimpers slipping out of her mouth like silent cries of help. Her head shook back and forth as her body continued to fight against itself, her subconscious mind telling her, screaming at her, to wake up and escape the bad dream. Finally, after minutes had ticked by, she sprang up in bed, her eyes wide, alert and full of fear, a harsh scream slipping out of her mouth and echoing in her nearly barren room.

It took her a few seconds to realize she was screaming and when she did she clamped her mouth shut tight and slapped her hands over her face like chains trying to keep the demons at bay. Her eyes pooled with tears and as much as she willed her body, begged even, for it to cooperate just this once, they began falling freely down her face. Each tear that fell down her cheek felt like acid, burning her hot skin. She tried to take deep breaths, but her chest was heaving and she couldn't control the tremor that began to wrack her small body. Each breath felt like it got stuck in her throat, suffocating and choking her like she was dying. Except she knew she wasn't. Elaina knew all too well that no matter how much she wished for that to be true, she wasn't dying. She was alive and breathing and as much as both the words seemed to contradict what she did on a daily basis, the harsh reality was this; she was stuck on her Earth and right now, there was nothing she could do about it.

As thoughts of dying slipped into her mind, his name suddenly popped up and like an anchor on a boat, his name alone made her freeze. Her racing heart skipped a beat and then began to erotically race – so fast it felt like it could explode any second. Her tears slowed and her mind just froze; all she could see was his name flashing in her mind. A fresh wave of sobs overtook her, filling her throat with the want to scream, cry, and choke all at the same time. She felt like she couldn't breathe. It felt like someone, something, was strangling her and she could only wish that each cry that desperately tried to fight its way out actually signaled that she was choking and that soon, every last breath would escape her. Her heart ached for him, a fresh wail slipping past her tongue and sliding wretchedly into the silent, dark room.

“Why?” Her cracking voice strained, barely managing to break free from her lungs as they fought to send enough oxygen to her rapidly beating heart. “Why?” She whimpers, her stomach turning sickeningly.

Suddenly the door to her room swings open and she looks over at it. Light fills the room and she blinks quickly as it makes her raw eyes burn even more. Her nurse, prison guard was a more appropriate title though, Karen, stepped into the room.

“I heard you scream; are you okay?” the brunette woman asked, eying her with a knowing look.

Elaina couldn’t concentrate on her answer to the older woman's question. Her mind felt clouded and she couldn't tear her thoughts away from the dark recesses of her mind. She felt trapped.

“Elaina, please. It took a lot of persuasion from me and your parents to get the doctors to agree let you out of that godforsaken place. This is only a trial and they have every right to put you back there. I need you to talk to me, okay? Try so at least I know I'm not still losing you.”

She still couldn't bring herself to reply to prison guard Karen. All she could think about was his name and all she could see was his face. And finally she thinks about what a bad idea this had been; how the woman took her from the hospital so that she was no longer on suicide watch, stalked like a hawk by nurses and doctors, each one regarding her with pity filled eyes and guarded expressions. Still staring at the spot above Karen's head, Elaina’s fingers slid up and down her arm, her fingertips stumbling over the raised lines that crisscross all over. Karen's hawk eyes zeroed in on the action and she stepped further into the room, closing the door silently behind her, watching Elaina carefully.

“It’s my fault. I killed him.”

Karen said nothing and her expression remained unchanging. Elaina looked away from her and stared down at her arms, the angry red lines making her stomach pinch anxiously and her eyes dialate.

Karen bit her lip and shook her head. She knew that Elaina blamed herself for the boy's death. Hell, everyone knew Elaina blamed herself. The events leading to his death were unfortunate but there was only one person to be blamed and Elaina was not that person. At least Karen didn't think so. No one knew the truth about that night though; the details were still messy. There were only two people who knew what exactly took place; one was no longer alive and the other lied right here in this place, her mind scarred by the memory of that night.

“He wouldn’t have wanted this for you, Elaina,” Karen stated as she stepped up next to the young girl’s bed.

Elaina didn't acknowledge Karen's words. She remained stock still, staring at her arms.

“You don't know that.”

“He wouldn’t have wanted you to dwell on the past, on him; he would want you to move on and live your life.”

"You don't know him."

"No, but I know he loved you."

Elaina’s eyes snapped up to Karen's and her fierce, dead stare made something inside Karen stir uncomfortably. That was a look she had never seen before, especially not on someone so young. It was look of total defeat. Elaina’s eyes held the look of complete detachment from reality. She wasn't present; her body was but her mind and her soul were gone, trapped somewhere or maybe non-existent at all.

"Do you know what the last words I said to him were?"

Karen didn't want to know. The look Elaina’s expression held was lethal. Karen was known for being tough skinned. She prided herself on the lack of emotion she was able to bring when dealing with these types of patients. It wasn't easy for many others to not feel pity or remorse for their patients or to shy away from the harsh words some of them liked to throw around. But Karen knew how to deal with them. And yet with all of her years of experience, Karen had never met someone like Elaina. The look being directed at her was not one she liked and if she was being completely honest, it made her feel threatened. Karen actually felt like she shouldn't be here, like something inside of Elaina wasn't right. And well, she supposed it wasn't. She hadn't been on suicide watch for nothing.

"Do you know?" Elaina repeated.

Karen hesitated before she finally spoke, trying to change the direction of the conversation. "I'm going to get you some tea. It'll help you fall back to sleep and-"

"Stop." Elaina’s voice was empty and as much as her eyes mirrored that, there was something stirring deep within them. "Do you know what my last words to him were?"

Karen sighed and rubbed her forehead, before finally shaking her head. "No, Elaina, no I don't."

"I said 'I never want to see you again.' ”

Karen's breathing froze. I never want to see you again. She cursed under her breath. She could now understand, or at least somewhat understand, why Elaina’s issues stemmed so deep. She had wished someone gone and that wish had been granted. As much as Elaina hadn’t meant it, and Karen knew she hadn't in the slightest, he could never and would never come back. She really would never see him again.

Elaina looked away from Karen; she could see the wheels turning in the old prison guard’s mind. She looked back down at the scratches on her arms and roughly rubbed her thumb nail over one, the little scab that had formed peeling off, revealing red blood. It pooled into a small drop of crimson slowly before slipping down her wrist and staining the blue blanket on her lap. All she could see were his eyes as she had said those final words – never again, never, I never want to see you again. You're getting what you asked for, her mind taunted. Those words played over in her head like a broken record. She dwelled on them and couldn’t shake them from her thoughts. She let all the emotions she’d held within her for so long just envelop her. She wore it like a second skin. She couldn’t escape it any longer, and so she let the dark memories consume her.

"Elaina..." Karen murmured, grabbing a tissue from the table next to the hospital bed, wiping away the blood that dripped down her arms. "I'm gonna have to report this. You can't harm yourself in anyway. They'll put you back under surveillance." Elaina didn't even move as she watched Karen's nimble fingers clean her wrist up.



People say ignorance is bliss. I couldn't help but think that must be true; especially for my parents. They knew about as much as the police and doctors knew about that night. They knew even less about what was wrong with their own daughter. All they knew was what I told them and what they were willing to listen to and believe me they're ears were open to very little on both accounts. They thought I was getting better. After all I had been taken off of suicide watch. Things were getting better in their eyes. They pictured a perfect world where they had their perfect daughter back and where their lives remained perfect in every perfect way. I knew all too well that the world couldn’t be perfect; not mine, not anymore. The world was a giant void for me - I felt like I didn't belong; I had no right to.

"Oh, honey, you're looking beautiful today." Those were my mom’s first words as she walked into the room with dad for their weekly visit.

Beautiful? Mom thought I was looking beautiful with bags under my eyes surrounded by dark circles from restless nights, my hair tangled in itself, hanging limply down my shoulders. I wasn't allowed to have a twisty tie to keep it out of my face and I wouldn't allow anyone to touch me and I was not going to bother doing anything about it myself so it was forced to just hang as lifeless as I felt. My skin was pale and I knew my cheeks must be sunken in at least a little - eating was too much of an effort too. And my arms, well, they remained red and raw, stained with irritated, scabbing scratches that my parent's refused to even acknowledge. And yet to my mother, I looked beautiful.

Ignorance is bliss.

"How are you feeling?" my father asked, sitting down in the chair next to my bed. His shoulders were tense and his tight eyes didn't glance away from the windows once. He couldn't stand to look at the room that for now was my home; he couldn't stand to look at me.

I didn't bother answering. Any answer that could remotely explain how I felt would make them drop dead on the spot and I've killed enough people for a lifetime.

"Well," dad cleared his throat, "It's a nice day out. The sun is finally breaking through those clouds outside. You know it's been raining so bad these last few days. The flowers out back were starting to weep from all the water. Did you know the Standfords next door got a puppy the other day? It's so loud; it barks all night. Speaking of night, how are you sleeping? I think the doctors mentioned something about it, but I just am always thinking about something I can never seem to catch what they say. You’re mother had to repeat something to me about four times yesterday. Oh, I bought this new shirt yesterday that reminded me of you. It says 'D.A.D.D.' on it. You know what that stands for? 'Dads against daughters dating'." He laughs like it's the funniest thing in the world. "Your mom wants me to return it and I told her I would, " he leans in close and whispers, "But I won't." He smiles at me like we're sharing some cute little secret. "I forgot to mention, we're repainting the kitchen finally. Isn't that great?"

Ignore is bliss.

"You're rambling Steven," mom chides from the other side of the room, where she's wiping down the windows with a towel. Cleaning helps her keep her mind off of the fact that her daughter is lying half alive just a few feet away. "Elaina we brought someone with us today. Maybe you could talk to him and he could try to help you. Wouldn't that be great - if he could finally fix you?" She smiles at me.

Fix me. Wouldn't that be great? You need to be fixed, Elaina. You're broken. Wouldn't that be great?

Ignorance is bliss.

There's a knock on the door and dad jumps up, uncomfortable with the silence that had settled in the room. He opens the door and a short man with glasses and blonde hair walks in, a tie hanging around his neck against a black collared shirt and gray pants. He smiles at my dad and then my mother as she rushes over to greet him. His eyes glance at me briefly as he shares a few words with my parents. Finally they turn to me and usher him into the room. His eyes don't glance away from my face. My arms are out from under the blanket and bare for him to see, but he refuses to look at them. Those three words float through my mind again.

"Elaina, this is Dr. Henry Fitzpatrick. He's a therapist-"

"I do, however, use that term loosely. It makes people think that I'm here to interrogate them about their lives and that is not my goal."

Dad nods and mom smiles, "Well, anyway, he's going to talk to you for a little while, alright? Your mother and I will be right outside." They don't wait for me to say anything before rushing out of the room.

Dr. Fitzpatrick looks around the room as he places his brief case down next to the chair my dad moments ago was occupying. I have to give my parents credit; today they actually managed to spend 10 minutes in here with me. That's a new record. Dr. Fitzpatrick, Fitz seems much easier to say, sits down and loosens his tie a bit before settling his eyes on me.

"Hi, Elaina. I know this must be weird, right?"

"I've spoken to more therapists than you have hair on your head."

He just laughs while running a hand through his thinning hair. "The older I get, the less hair I seem to be able to hold onto. Pretty soon I'll have less hair than a new born baby." He laughs at his own joke before realizing that I was just staring. He clears his throat and tugs at his tie again. "Right, well, I was hoping we could talk for a bit. Is that okay?"

I shrug and he smiles gratefully at me, leaning back in the chair. I wait for him to pull out a notepad or something to write down every word I say and ever thing I do.

10:05 am - Elana tells me she feels fine
10:07 am - Elana refuses to give me a straight answer
10:08 am - Elana scratches her arm. Nerves?
10:10 am - Elana has blinked

"Aren't you going to write stuff down?" I ask. He smirks lightly and shakes his head.

"I told you I wasn't here to interrogate you. I just want to talk."

I glance down at his brief case, "Then why do you need that?"

He follows my gaze and picks the old, brown case up. He glances at me before opening it up, letting one side flop open. I wait for things to fall out since he's holding it up but nothing does. It's empty. I look at it confused before looking at him questioningly.

"It makes me look more official doesn't it?"

My head cocks to the side and I stare at him. "Are you sure you're not a patient?"

His laugh fills the room and he shrugs, "I'm not a patient, Elaina."

I lean back in my bed and look away from him and instead focus on my fingers as they run up and down my scratches.

"So, tell me, what's this place like?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"Am I on suicide watch or not?"

He doesn't answer for a second, "You aren't right now."

"It's fine. It's a hospital not an amusement park."

"You can be honest with me Elaina. I know you're not happy to be here, no one would be."

I don't respond so he moves on.

"Your parents seem very nice. Do they visit you often?"

I snort, "My parents come here once a week for a few minutes just to talk about their lives. Mom cleans my already clean room and dad rambles about things that no one in their right mind would care about while in a hospital bed and stares out the window the entire time." My answer comes out harsher and more honest than I expected. "Ignore is bliss," I mumble.

"I don't think they're ignorant, Elaina. I think they just don't like seeing their daughter in a hospital bed."

I shrug. He can state his opinion as much as he wants but the truth is my parents refuse to accept what's right in front of their faces.

"Do you know how long you're in here for?" He asks. He makes it sound like prison too.

I shake my head. Fitz nods and stares at me for a bit before speaking again. He asks question after question but I don't answer any of them. Sometimes I nod or shrug and every few questions I’ll say something sarcastic if I feel like it, but for the most part I'm just counting done the seconds until he finally leaves. I can tell he's getting frustrated.

"Do you know why you're here?"

"I tried to kill myself." I say it in a bored tone because I've answer that question more times than I can count. Fitz falters - I don't think he was expecting such a blatant, honest answer.

"Why did you try to kill yourself?"

"Because I killed someone so why should I get the right to live?"

"You killed someone?" he asks, his eyebrows shooting up. Like he doesn’t know. If my parents didn't tell him, I'm sure Karen did and if she didn't, I have a file from countless other therapists he can read. "Who did you kill Elaina?"

Him

I stare at my arms. My mind is as empty as my body feels. The sound of Fitz breathing lightly through his nose fills the room as I mindlessly stare at the rigid red lines that stain my pale skin. I close my eyes as he floats through my mind. Sometimes, if I think hard enough I can almost feel his fingers running through my hair like he used to do all the time.

Sometimes I even see his eyes and his crooked smile that he only ever let me see to its full extent. I can almost remember what he smells like and sometimes I swear he's in the room because the smell is so strong. And then I open my eyes and I'm alone in this room and I know that he isn’t here and he never will be. I shake my head like an echo sketch as if it'll erase every thought clawing its way out of the locked door in my brain. But he's still there. And his brown eyes. And his smile. He's always in my mind.

"Elaina?"

"I don't want to talk anymore."

"You can't just ignore how you feel, Elaina."

"I can do whatever the hell I want, Dr. Fitzpatrick."

He sighs, "I'm not here to fight with you, Elaina"

"Stop saying my name." I grit my teeth in irritation.

"Why?"

"Because I know what you're doing. You're using some shrink technique. You think that by saying my name you're building my trust like some longtime friend. I told you I've had a lot of therapists; I know all your stupid little tricks. So, just stop saying my name because I don't have friends and I certainly don't want to be friends with some shrink head, okay?" I snap.

He doesn't say anything for some time but my gaze still doesn't falter. I keep it centered on him because I am not backing down. I'm sick of talking. I just want to be left alone. I want to be alone. He suddenly leans down and grabs his stupid, empty briefcase and stands up, tightening his tie again.

"Your past has you in a choke hold, Ela-" he stops himself. He clears his throat and loosens his tie again. "You can't let what happened keep you from moving on with your life. You did not kill him. You didn't. It doesn't matter that you guys had a fight that night, “ so he does know what happened, I muse. "It doesn't matter that he stormed away and that you let him. None of that matters, certainly not what your last words to him were."

I take in a sharp breath and look away from him, my fingers aggressively rubbing along my scars.

"It's the past. I know that he's important to you-"

"You don't know anything about me so don't act like you do."

"I know more than you think. You may not say much, but your actions speak louder than words."

I look down at my arms and snort once again, "Clearly." He falters. Weren’t expecting that were you Mr. Know It All?

"If you would just accept some help you would realize that no one blames you. You are the only one keeping yourself from being happy again."

"I killed him and I deserve to die too."

He sighs defeated and shakes his head. I know that look - I've see it a lot these last few months. He sends me a final fleeting look before heading to the door and opening it up. I see my parents look up from the magazines they had been reading and then stand up from the chairs they had been sitting in. They both smile at Fitz like he just helped them win the lottery.

"If you don't do it for yourself, at least do it for your parents. They love you with all they have. They aren't ignorant like you think. They are all too aware that their only daughter is suffering and that she tried to kill herself. They're scared for you. Do it for them....and do it for him."

And the he leaves, the door closing behind him, leaving me once again alone in the room with nothing but the silence and the feeling of my nails scratching away at my arms.