Sanctuary

Her eyes fluttered open, white light flooding in and making her squint. Her vision focused, on to an open window. A light summer breeze fluttered in, ruffling the starch white curtains next to her bed.

Her bed. She glanced down at her body, covered in white sheets. She wore a grey hospital gown, her skin pale and cold. She tried to sit up, tried lifting her hands. But she couldn’t. She was too weak. She panicked, her heart racing as she tried to wrench herself free from the sheets.

“Taryn,” she heard someone gasp. “You’re awake.”

She paused and looked over at Hallie, who sat in a stiff visitor’s chair by the door. Her blond hair was thrown up in a messy bun, and her clothes looked like they hadn’t been changed in days. She stayed silent, studying Hallie’s worn-out face.

“I’m so glad you woke up.”

“Why am I here?” Taryn whispered. “I don’t want to be here.” Her face was frozen, her eyes flooded with tears.

Hallie hurried over, caressing Taryn’s cheek. Taryn stared up at her, unable to move.

“Shhh,” Hallie soothed. “You’re okay.”

“I don’t want to be here,” Taryn said, her voice cracking.

Hallie bent over, wrapping her arms around Taryn and hugging her tightly. She held Taryn as she sobbed, finally letting loose whatever had been held captive in her for days. She cried for what felt like hours.

“Taryn?” she heard another voice at the door.

Her father stood in the doorway, flanked by James and Shae on either side. Hallie stepped backward, letting Taryn’s father slowly walk in. Her father looked rough, the worst she’d ever seen him. But he was here. He sat next to her, holding her hand as she spoke. “I’m sorry you’re trapped here, sweetheart.”

“Daddy,” she whimpered. “I don’t want to be here.”

“I know. You’ll be out soon.”

She stayed silent, biting her tongue as tears continued to stream her face.

“You need help, sweetie. And all these kind doctors want to help you. So you have to let them, okay?”

She didn’t respond, but stared through him as if she couldn’t hear what he was saying.

Her family sat with her for the next few hours. From what she heard them discussing with the doctor, she had had a mental collapse a week before. She had been unreachable for days, and might even still be for a while. She was on suicide watch, and she would be released in a few days to a recovery home until she was strong enough to be discharged.

Hours later, after some of her Brighton friends had visited, she sat alone with Hallie and Shae. They had defied visitor’s hours, masquerading as her cousins so they could spend more time with her. They were such good friends.

“I’m going to get some food. You want anything?” Hallie asked. “I can sneak you a cookie or something.”

Taryn smiled weakly. “Sure. Thank you.”

Hallie pivoted on her heel, waltzing out the door. Shae sat in a chair beside her, gripping her hand.

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” he said quietly. She looked up at him, staring into his blue eyes.

“Shae,” she said, her voice breaking again. “I don’t want to be here.”

“I know,” he said. “But you’re getting out soon.”

“No, you don’t get it,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be here.”

He squeezed her hand, leaning in and hugging her to his chest. He kissed her forehead as she started to cry again.

“You’re not going anywhere, okay? We’re here for you,” he said, stroking her hair. “We’ll be with you every day. You’re so much more than you think.”

As she let her tears subside, she felt an overwhelming exhaustion settle over her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such an eventful day. The last thing she heard as she drifted off to sleep was Shae’s voice, speaking softly in her ear.

“You’re okay.”

***

The next few days were a whirl-wind of people, from her extended family members to various neurologists and psychiatrists, trying to devise a plan for her best course of treatment. But she wanted none of it. It was exhausting, and quite frankly, she wasn’t sure she was worth the effort.

It was decided that they would fly her to an inpatient treatment facility down south. Her psychiatrist, Dr. Almstead, had officially diagnosed her. The doctor was pretty vague for the most part, but apparently what used to be considered manic depression was now classified under a bipolar disorder. Due to what the doctor identified as a psychotic break, it was decided she’d be in treatment down south for at least six months, or until the doctor saw fit to release her.

Her dad, hesitant at first, ultimately decided it would be best for her to get away from everything at home that had affected her so badly in the first place. “This will be perfect, sweetheart,” he kept saying. “You can come back to us when you’re stronger.”