13| Communication

Chapter Thirteen

Trigger Warning! Mentions of Drug and Sexual Abuse

Alice

"Alice, here are your pills?" Asshole number one says to me. Asshole number one, or what he considers himself to be James, is my around-the-clock nurse. He's a bigger man who reminds me of Santa Claus. Suppose Santa Claus lived in blue scrubs and was bald. He's always smiling and saying the same thing.

Isn't it wonderful outside today?

No, I do not think it's wonderful, no matter how good of a view this looney bin room has. My window is made of plastic to add looks down on central park in all its glory. He doesn't know how disgusting and scary it actually is in there. He sees what's on the outside. He considers the lush trees and the tiny onlookers who pleasantly jog through.

I see the opposite. I see the muggers or the kids who damn near start a fire. I see the animals on the cuff of death due to their poor diets with the idiots who litter. The clouds in the sky engulf the air. And I would love to smell it, but the lack of useable windows up here prevents it.

If I ever jump out a window, it would be the escape here not to kill myself.

I eye the two plastic cups. One is filled halfway with water, and the other has pills that I forget are called. As I would say, it's something for the anxiety, PTSD, and depression-happy pills they call them.

But instead of being happy. I've been angry. Angry at my mom for allowing this. Angry at Dr.Avery for coordinating this. And I'm mad at Alessio for going along with this.

He put me in here. She put me in here, and I'm stuck here for God knows how long. I eye the cups and swallow the pills dry. I lift my tongue, indicating that I indeed took them. "No water again?"

I shrug my shoulders at asshole number one. "What can I say? I don't need them." I place the cup on the silver metal tray he so graciously has in his hand like a freshly cooked pizza.

"You should probably get ready, Alice. Therapy starts in thirty minutes." Therapy, the word tastes sour on my tongue. Just the mere thought of it brings me back to Dr.Avery and her betrayal. James leaves the room in haste, most likely to give his other patients meds. I know he's supposed to be my nurse, but it seems like this psych ward is going against mommy's wishes.

I go to my drawer, stacked to the brim with leggings and sweaters specially sent to me. It's cold in here-colder than I would prefer my current living situation to be. Putting on my clothes and left my room. The one thing about this psych ward that I can say without a doubt that I enjoy is the socks.

The gripped socks feel better than any expensive shoe I've ever worn. The psychiatric ward is riddled with words of encouragement from overcoming eating disorders to suicidal patients.

I wish I could tear it all down. The eight circles of hell or group therapy sit two halls away from my room. I need to be early, or all the snacks will be gone. I leave my room, which they make seem like an open door when it is not. I know they know when I leave or not.

They know when I take shit too. They're constantly monitoring me, walking down the two halls. I open the white double doors. There sits sixteen chairs-all empty. I grab the plate and fill it with the bit of serotonin that they provide.

Chocolate chip cookies and orange juice. Some would say a disgusting combination, but they only provide water and dark chocolate bars for dessert at a nationally acclaimed psych-ward. You take what you can get. I prefer any hard liquor or cake, but this is the next best thing. I take my seat nearest to the exit. Tina is the first to walk in. Tina, or what I like to call her asshole number two. Who, I am sure, is the fakest of them all. She is our group therapist, who I know does not care.

When she listens, she only nods her head and smiles at the most fucked up stuff. A girl being molested by God knows how man people smile and nod. A suicidal guy with a severe eating disorder, smile and nod. A child who was only eighteen dealings with their gender and was abused for it and shipped here, smile and nod.

She hears these things, and there's no reaction. Not even a sorry that happened to you. It's only a nod, and who's next. I would write it off of us having time to vent but in the midst of me staring at the clock. I noticed that she gives each person just enough time to vent.

Just enough time so that everyone can be heard and for her to get her check. She doesn't care if someone skips or even if someone speaks at all. It's mechanical, lacking all instances of care that we should be hearing.

"Alice! Once again, you've beaten me here. Oh, and I see you have a cookie, nice," she adds. Oh yes, therapist of mine. Please comment on the food choice. What if I had an eating disorder, and now you've made me overthink for the rest of the day.

"Yes, I did, Tina." She takes her seat across from me-closest to the window. She's wearing dark jeans and a bright t-shirt with matching shoes. I envy the feel of jeans. All I'm allowed here is leggings and sweaters as if jeans will cause a national catastrophe. I could ask, but I cannot be bothered with talking to asshole number three through five. Three being Dr.Avery, four my mother, and last but not least Alessio.

He's called and visited every day, but I refuse to see him. He allowed her to put me in here. He went against my wishes.

The room begins to fill one by one until all the chairs in our merry circle fill.

"Okay, guys. How are you guys doing today?"

"Fine," Parker says, accompanied by his usual smile. Parker is one of those people here that you wonder why they exactly are there. He seems normal enough, a great smile is attractive, and he can command the room into laughing at will.

But, I'm sure if he coughed or even breathed in my vicinity. I would get a contact high in a mere second. He said that ninety percent of his body might as well have been cocaine, heroin, or weed. He overdosed six times and still does drugs-not at all caring. He does what he's supposed to and leaves and is back again in six months.

He even got his sponsor to indulge in a drug binge with no problem at all. A charismatic drug addict is a force to be reckoned with

"Hey, Alice. You still hate the world today?" Parker asks me.

"Yes, Parker. As much as you hate being sober for more than five minutes." He holds his heart, mimicking as if I stabbed him. "You know if it was anybody else. They'll have to go on some extreme meds."

"Wouldn't you love that?" I jest.

"Oh. I would. I still do not understand why people want me to be clean so badly," he admits. "Like, I know my limits. And I go to work and do everything I'm supposed to. I just like cocaine."

I laugh. At least Parker is honest. He likes cocaine, and he doesn't think anything is wrong with it. "Whatever happened to DARE?"

"Fuck DARE. That went out the window when I smoked my first joint. I enjoy drugs. They're no underlying abuse or some ex that fucked me in the head. I like drugs. They're fun. Do I like what they do to my body? No. But it's my business, not others," he finally finishes.

"You're a very rational addict. Still an addict but very rational."

"Guys!" Tina squeals. "It's time for sharing time." I roll my eyes. "Who wants to go first?" I raise my hand. I always go first. Going first means I can tune everything out and won't have to deal with the anxiety of when I'll be next. "Alice, as eager as always." She looks at the clock and me."How are you feeling?"

I sigh. I was honest my first day-even told them all about Annabella and how it hurt me so profoundly. But, now that I know half of these people don't want to be here, and Tina is here for a check. I don't care enough to tell them the darkest depths of my mind and what they entail.

I want to do my time and leave this crazy house. "Um, today I feel better," I lie. "I'm starting to get used to it here, but I do miss a few things."

"Like what?" Parker asks.

"Burgers, my bed...windows made of glass."

He raises an eyebrow and smirks, "feeling like jumping? I don't suggest it. A guy I knew did that, and he ended up living, but everything neck down was paralyzed. Imagine that. You try to kill yourself, and you end up in a hospital bed shitting out a tube."

I cringe at the thought and the vulgarness of his words. Tina claps her hands, indicating that it's time to share. I raise my hand first. "Hello, everyone. I hope you all slept well last night."

I did not. The sheets are washed with the cheapest fucking detergent known to man, and I'm sure is the reason for my itchy legs. Scratching my legs, I nod at Tina giving her one of the classic smiles that I do not mean.

"And there's the smile," Parker mumbles under his breath.

"Today, we're going to be talking about communication. Communication is the foundation of life, and without it, there's no way to live a fulfilling life. Like, how I'm communicating with you guys now. So, guys, I want us to all go around and tell us a time where we communicated our feelings, and it made us feel better in the end."

Instead of my usual eagerness to raise my hand first and get it over with-I don't. My mind is empty, clear of a single thought. I communicate with my therapist, sure. But Alessio? Have I communicated enough with him? Indeed, not now, after he put me here. What is there to exactly say to the man?

The girl next to me raises her hand. Her story is textbook, as they would call it. A fucking horrible textbook that too many young girls deal with. Her dad and older brother assaulted her most of her life. She told her mom, which of course, ended with her not being believed, continuing her cycle of abuse. Until one day, her teacher saw her scars from the unending abuse and sent her here while her family stood trial.

I can only imagine what's going on in her head.

"I talked to my mom today," she admits. Silence befalls the room, "this morning to be exact. My therapist gave me her number, and I talked to her."

I ease in closer to her. "Okay, and how did it go?" Tina asks.

She pushes back her hair, and looks down, and then back to Tina. "Well, I cried, and she did too. And I asked her the question I've been holding in since I was a little girl. Why? Why would she let them hurt me? And what the hell was going through her mind. And you know what she said? She said she wanted to keep her family happy. She wanted to maintain a happy picturesque life. And she shouldn't be punished for that." She laughs, "she's such a sick bitch. Then she proceeded to talk about how I shouldn't go through with the charges against her and her family because who am I kidding. I wasn't a part of the family, by the way, she described things."

"And how did that make you feel in the end?"

"You know...strange enough. I feel a lot better. My mom...Fela is a sick woman, and now I truly see that. Before, I tried to rationalize things. I tried to think of what I did wrong or what I could have done. And the answer is nothing. She is sick and a horrible mother, and I'm done with her. I have no desire to speak to her. She was supposed to be there to guide me, love me, and protect me. And she did none of those things. She failed me. And knowing that now, really confirming it feels so goddamn good."

"See, everyone. Kiya, here is a great example of talking and facing your trauma head-on so you can cope and in Kiya's case. You can realize that it isn't your fault."

I do not speak when it's my turn. Instead, when the session ends, I get up and walk to my room, closing the door behind me. Inside sits a phone that I've been dreading to use since I walked into this godforsaken room.

"Hello?" he says. His voice is cool, as if he doesn't even recognize who is on the other line when I know who he is based on his breathing alone.

"Les," is the only thing I can manage to get out.

"Alice?" He scrambles on the phone, and I listen to the chattering and the plates in the background. He's at a restaurant.

"It's Alice?" Is it Aria? She's with him.

"Aria, finish your lunch. I'll be back in a sec," he says before the chattering in the background turns into nothing.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Sorry, this chapter took too long. I was on hiatus.

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