Part 26 (1/2)

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”You don't know me!” Tai snapped back at her.

I felt the tension rise between Tai and Mena.

Daniel said, ”This is not about you! This is about what happened to our friend last night. Rocky is lying in a hospital with his head in a box, and he is fighting for his life! Did you think about that?”

The girls looked away from each other with shame. At least Tai looked like she was ashamed. Mena just kept a straight face and remained quiet. She picked up her breakfast tray and walked away from the table.

When she was gone, Tai seemed to be relieved.

She said, ”That girl is seriously asking for a beat down.”

As we sat at the table, I wondered what Mena had meant. I should have just ignored her like everyone else did, but the thought only lingered.

Our first group meeting with Dr. Bent took place after breakfast. We all sat around a long table, and Dr. Bent wanted to discuss our thoughts and feelings about what had happened to Rocky. At first, there weren't any volunteers who wanted to share. Dr. Bent seemed to like it when she had volunteers to speak. Daniel, who was more open than the rest of us, was in his own world this morning. He sat in his chair, silently staring down at his shoes. He wasn't even picking at his shoelaces. It was the most silent I had ever seen him.

When I closed my eyes, I still saw Rocky lying on the stretcher with his head barely attached to his body. His face was stone-blue, and he looked dead. I shuddered as I flashed back to that scene. Daniel must have been seeing the whole thing repeatedly in his mind.

”I keep hearing the door slam when he did it, and it woke me up. He was on the floor,” Daniel sobbed to Dr. Bent. ”If I hadn't fallen asleep while he was talking to me, maybe I could have stopped him.”

”It's not your fault, Daniel,” Dr. Bent said. ”You know it's not your fault. Don't do that to yourself.”

Daniel shook his head and said, ”I know it's not my fault. I just wish I had been awake. He had been saying stuff, and I didn't know what he was talking about. I thought he was just trying to bother me like he always did at night. He never liked to sleep. He'd just lie there and make weird noises or talk to himself. I swear, I didn't know.”

”Oh, G.o.d! I need a cigarette,” Tai said as she slapped herself in the forehead miserably.

Daniel raised his head to that.

”Rocky was thirteen, and he smoked, too,” he said. ”He was thirteen and he wanted to die. I know what that's like. I was the same way. Why didn't I catch that? Why didn't I see it coming?”

Daniel's voice faded out, and his sobs turned to heavy cries. He cried so hard that he made tears come out of my eyes. Janine shook her head and started to get up and go to him, but Dr. Bent reached him first. While she stood next to him, she picked up the telephone and called someone to come get Daniel, because she didn't think that he needed to be in Group. Within a minute, Dr. Finch came into the room without knocking. He told Daniel to come with him. Daniel seemed relieved to be leaving with his doctor. Rocky's suicide attempt may have been too much for him to talk about in Group Therapy.

When Daniel and Dr. Finch were gone, Dr. Bent moved in on Mena, who was sitting cross-legged on the end of the long table. She was leaning back and had her arms folded across her chest. She was staring up at the ceiling, letting the bright hospital lights burn into her eyes. She didn't blink once. Dr. Bent called out to her. Mena moved her head slowly and fixed her eyes on Dr. Bent, who was at the opposite end of the table.

”How old are you, Mena?” Dr. Bent asked.

”I'm seventeen,” she said.

Dr. Bent boldly asked, ”Would you care to share with us what brought you here?”

Mena shook her head while keeping her eyes on Dr. Bent, as if she didn't trust her.

Dr. Bent leaned forward. She said in a calm voice, ”No one here will judge you, Mena.”

”Everything I say can stay in this room, and no one will judge me or hold it against me because we are all in this together...blah...blah...blah...blah. I know all of this,” Mena said to Dr. Bent.

Dr. Bent was sitting back in her seat with her arms folded across her chest, silently staring at Mena.

Mena looked away from Dr. Bent. She said, ”I have 'anger problems', or so they say.”

”So who say?” asked Dr. Bent.

Mena sighed. ”The judge who put me here for four weeks,” she said. ”I guess four weeks is the longest I can be here at this place.”

Dr. Bent nodded. ”Yes, four weeks is the longest any patient can be here. This is a short-term hospital. If you don't show any progress as it gets closer to four weeks' time, then arrangements are made with a long-term facility.”

”Well, I don't plan on being here that long,” Mena made clear. ”I'm just here because that judge thinks I have these 'anger problems,' and I don't. So...”

”Well, what happened to make the judge say that you had anger problems?” Dr. Bent kept pressing the subject.

Mena was getting frustrated. ”Don't you have suicidal people to talk to? Didn't you just have a kid kill himself last night, right here in this hospital?”

”Dr. Pelchat's your doctor, right?”

Mena nodded.

”Dr. Pelchat is a wonderful doctor. I'm sure you will get the treatment you need so that you don't have to go to a long-term hospital.”

Mena didn't respond. She looked back up at the ceiling and stared into the bright light. Dr. Bent left Mena alone and started talking to Tai, who said that it wasn't fair that, after a situation like what had happened the night before, they all couldn't have a cigarette. Dr. Bent laughed, and other people joined in, I guess because they wanted cigarettes too.

After Dr. Bent's Group Therapy meeting, and on the way back to the Adolescent Unit, Mena kept staring at me. She looked down at me, and I thought she was trying to intimidate me. I didn't like her. I didn't like to be stared at, and she could tell that it was making me upset, but she kept on staring.

”Are you worried about your boyfriend?” she asked me suddenly.

I looked at her, shocked. I must have had a stupid expression on my face, because she smirked. I didn't respond to her. I tried to ignore her to make her feel like she was talking to herself.

”You know who I'm talking about,” she carried on. ”The little baby that was crying back there. You know, the one who let his roommate break his neck.”

I turned to her. I almost opened my mouth. Something told me to hold it in and not say anything back to her. Instead of giving in, I walked past her to the counselor's desk. I stayed there to avoid her. Where there was authority, I noticed she'd try to stay as far away as possible. Mena went to the Girls' Unit. I sighed in relief.

Suddenly a feeling inside of me that I had not felt in a long time took over me. Mr. Anton was behind the counter, and I asked him for a blank sheet of paper and a pencil. He asked me if I was going to write a letter, and I told him that I didn't know what I was going to write. I just felt like writing.

He handed over the paper and pencil and, while he handed it to me, he said, ”Most writers make masterpieces while they are in a place like Bent Creek.”

I nodded my head. ”Maybe,” I responded.

I quickly sat down at the table and started writing. I didn't stop until my fingers cramped up and my mind stopped spilling. When I was done, I scanned the paper, and realized that none of it seemed to make sense. They were just words on paper that had responded to a strong feeling inside of me. It didn't matter if it made sense, because I'd just had to write it out.

I folded the sheet of paper, stuck it in my back pocket, and returned the pencil to Mr. Anton. I went to the bedroom, and Janine was not in there. My silver b.u.t.terfly sat peacefully on the table next to my bed. My heart was pounding as I stared at the sharp, s.h.i.+ny wings. I picked the b.u.t.terfly up off the table. Mr. Sharp always made it okay. I didn't need to understand anything else. I didn't need to write again. I didn't need to find a cure, or an answer, and I didn't feel like I needed to cry. That's why Mr. Sharp was there.

I lifted my pant leg and pressed the cold, silver wing to my leg, and it made me shudder. The pain reminded me of the last time I had pressed something sharp to my skin. I wasn't used to the pain again. I couldn't do it. I took the b.u.t.terfly in my fist and I squeezed it in anger.

No! No! Don't you dare cry, Kristen! No! I threw the b.u.t.terfly down onto the table and cried. Why did I let Mena get to me? Why did I do it?

Mr. Sharp was sitting on the table, holding my b.u.t.terfly in his hand. He shoved it towards me, but I just lay there, staring at him. He shook his head in disappointment. I closed my eyes and let him disappear from my mind as I tried not to think of my upcoming meeting with Dr. Pelchat.

CHAPTER 32.