Beautiful/Terrible

Facilitate

To my despair, I soon found that I would only be able to see Allen during school and meals. The other half of my time would be spent in a girls-only wing. My least favorite part of the whole ordeal was that the showers were set up gym-style- lines of showers with semi-sheer doors. You could see the silhouette of everyone.
This was all explained to me by a woman named Tammy, who smiled too brightly and walked too fast. Apparently, she was the woman who was supposed to “welcome” me. I didn’t give a fuck. While Tammy continued to blabber I on I clasped onto Allen’s bicep and checked out the scene. There were many winding halls that were probably very confusing. The floors were white. The walls were white. I smiled. My teeth were white.
It reminded me of my home.
I slowly shuffled, far behind Tammy, who after checking behind her found out that I was procrastinating and far back well enough. I preferred it that way. She first led me into the girls’ wing.
“Now, I don’t usually allow boys in here, but since you’re coming together I’ll make an exception and you can walk with us, Allen,” she said, “But you’ll have to leave as soon as Leda departs from us.”
Allen nodded solemnly.
We suddenly stopped in front of grey double doors. My stop. Tammy pulled them open and ushered me inside, but I stayed out, looking uncertainly at Allen. He smiled at me and pulled me in for a sweet and gentle goodbye kiss. It felt nice. I smiled into the kiss and beyond when we pulled us apart, Tammy looking out of place and uncomfortable. Allen whispered in my ear, “I love you,” and then drifted away, whistling. Somehow he was so calm, so sure of himself. He was unafraid.
I looked to Tammy, who seemed to be here natural, peppy self again. She led me inside the doors.
Inside there was a small group of girls my age- they all looked anywhere from about 13 to 17. I was one of the oldest, I guess, being almost an adult. Wow that was weird.
They were all talking amongst each other until they realized I had entered the room, and then they turned silent and looked at me intensely. I was frozen. I felt uncomfortable. I didn’t want to be here. I went to turn around, but I was blocked by a firm-looking male nurse. I sighed and turned back around, however when I did I realized I had become a fly in the back of their minds, no longer the center of their attention.
I was relieved. I sat on a chair across from the couch that they were all crowded on, and managed to catch the attention of a few girls again, the rest of whom continued chattering absentmindedly.
There was a girl with rotting red hair, brown roots growing out. I suppose they didn’t allow bleach to be used in a place like this- obviously. She had a slight figure and was blessed with beautiful brown eyes. They reminded me of the dirt at the bottom of a creek.
There was another girl with seemingly natural platinum-blonde hair braided down the sides. She turned to be with her black eyes boring into me. I shuddered.
A third girl had unassuming brown hair that dropped lifelessly onto her shoulders. She stared intently at me through small, beady eyes, as if expecting me to say something. Her shoulders hung limply and her elbows dragged across her lap with little effort.
Uncomfortable under their gaze I averted my gaze to the corner of the armrest of the chair. There was a thread that had been pulled and I was insistent on staring at it until it disappeared.
“Hey, hottie,” the blonde one said to me, “You’re far too sexy to be in here,” she continued. As if it was an art, I dodged her two dimensional comments by assuming they were a part of why she was in here.
It turned out I was right when the girl with brown hair told me, “She has multiple personality disorder. She’s Amber right now.”
“And who are you?” I asked her.
“Grace,” she said.
“Funny, I’m friends with a Grace.”
“I get that a lot,” she said.
“So why are you here?” I asked her out of curiosity, even though it was probably rude.
“I was diagnosed with AIDS and now I’m suicidal. Ironic, huh?”
“Cool,” I said.
“Yup. What are you here for?” She asked me in return.
“My boyfriend and I attempted a joint suicide,” I told her. I felt no need to lie. Something about this place told me that everything was ugly and left out in the open- something about that was both terrifying and comforting.
“I’m here because I tried to stab myself in the heart, but I was too weak due to my anorexia, and the blade skidded across my chest and plunged into my stomach instead. I was all kinds of fucked up until they took me here,” The girl with red hair offered without being asked. It made me uncomfortable and so I stared at the pulled fabric of the chair again. It was all fun and games until someone offered too much detail.
She continued, “And Amber here has an alter by the name of Gregory that repeatedly tries to kill himself when he isn’t whoring around as Amber, though in her defense she does have one normal personality named Claire- her main self or something I guess.” Once again the unnamed redhead shared too much. I gulped. I already knew I wasn’t going to like her.
Amber crawled over to me and straddled my lap, grinding into me- she wasn’t wearing underwear. In attempt to rid myself of her moistening flesh I reared back my hand and thrust it into her face, connecting with a sickening crack.
She fell back onto the floor and cried out, “You fucking punched me!”
“Yeah, I did, fucker!” I knew I could have a temper but that was seriously freaky. Who just does that? It suddenly occurred to me that she probably couldn’t help it because of her illness, and though I was still mad at Amber I felt remorse for Gregory and Claire.
“Sorry,” I mumbled quietly to myself.
Too late for apologies, because I suddenly felt arms grasping at me and the prick of a needle being inserted into my skin. A sedative, I assumed. I felt a drowsy wave wash over me and I relented under its and the nurses hold. I had no reason to fight.
I let them carry me into an elevator that I hadn’t noticed before, mostly because it was the same color as the wall. We waited in awkward silence for the doors to ding open and I closed my eyes, contemplating my future.
I felt myself being pulled into the elevator; it felt like being weightless and a million pounds all at once. I felt the same feeling when the elevator began to ascend- weighted and weightless.
Ding. Thrust. Shuffle. I was led mindlessly into a corridor and I didn’t bother opening my eyes even now, I wanted my senses to be lethally alive in a sense.
I felt a sudden stop and I opened my eyes in curiosity. We stood in front of a check-in desk, it was labeled Ward 1. The man sitting behind it smiled at me warmly and I hated it. I scowled at him.
After the nurses conversed with him for a few moments I was led into a cell that mirrored many others that lined another corridor within the room. I was once again thrust into the room and the door slammed behind me. The walls were padded and the room was free of any clutter other than a mattress in the corner, which was small and uncomfortable looking. I sighed and fell down onto it, staring at the blank white ceiling.
For the next few hours I stared blankly into the void of white while lyrics wrote themselves across it. I rehearsed chords I knew by heart, and synthesized memories into a beautiful flow.
Then, a male nurse stepped into the room with a loud click of the lock. He stepped forward.
“Are you aware of why you are in here?” he asked me.
“Because I punched that girl in the face,” I said nonchalantly.
“Yes. I’m going to ask you a series of questions,” he began. I cut him off-
“No, I do not want to hurt myself or anyone else,” I told him, knowing what he was going to ask. They always asked the same things, and as long as you said no they always let you go. Stupid.
He left.
I was left once again to recite the words of my idols in my head as my ears begged to relinquish in the silence. I wished that they would let me out soon. I hated it in here, I had always hated the silence. It was so cruel to me. It made me think things that I didn’t want to, made me remember pain, suffering. Suffering.