Part 32 (2/2)

I shook my head. ”Thank you, Mom,” I said.

I looked down at my school books. Physics 2, Calculus, Civics... What had I gotten myself into?

”Kristen,” Mom calmly called out to me.

I had drifted off into a daydream. I looked at her after setting my books aside. They started to give me a headache.

”Do me a favor. Why don't you go ahead, sign the back of your paycheck, and endorse it to me. I can take it to my bank and get it cashed for you.” She smiled sincerely. It was almost frightening.

I twisted uncomfortably in my chair. ”Why can't I just cash it when I get out of here? I have to mail a portion of it off for my school tuition. I have to pay for this semester at the end of the month, anyway.”

”Well, endorse your check to me, and I will mail it off for you. Besides, we don't know when you are getting out of here. And I also need the portion that you are supposed to give me so that I can get a few things.”

I looked down at my paycheck with a slight frown. It didn't feel right, but Mom was right. I showed it to her.

”My tuition is due by next Tuesday. That's the end of this month. If it is late, they only give me five days before they add a late fee. Can you cash it and mail it off for me tomorrow?”

I looked into her eyes. Her smile went from frightening to warm.

”Yes, Kristen, I will do that,” she a.s.sured me.

I believed her. So, I endorsed the check to her, and handed it over. As soon as she took it, she seemed to calm down. But it seemed like something was on her mind.

”Are you okay?” I asked her. ”What's going on?”

”Nothing. I'm just tired from work. So, you have to take that test tomorrow. Are you nervous?”

This was the most we'd talked without yelling or crying since I had been in Bent Creek.

”Not really,” I said. ”It's going to be pretty simple.”

”Well, I hope you do well on it,” she said kindly. ”And if you do have that Borderline Personality Disorder, I want you to know that we will do what we have to do to help you. If that means coming to the doctor every week, then that's what we will have to do, and if you have to take medicine, then we'll get that taken care of, too. I just want you to become a normal adult and be able to function right on your own. You will be eighteen soon and graduating from home school. I know that you plan on going to college, and you will be working and on your own. So I want you to be able to take care of everything for yourself.”

The sound of her voice made me sad. She was so sure about what she wanted for me. On the outside, it seemed like she was any other normal parent, just wanting the best for her child. But on the inside, I felt as though she just couldn't wait to get rid of her problem. Her problem was me, and having to take care of me.

”Do you know anything about Borderline Personality Disorder?” Mom asked.

I shook my head. I remembered the book that Dr. Pelchat had given me, but I hadn't had a chance to read it.

”Dr. Pelchat gave me a book to read,” I told her. ”It's about BPD.”

”That's good,” she said.

An awkward silence crept in.

Mom broke the silence. ”Can you receive phone calls here? Are you at that level?”

”Yes,” I told her, ”but it has to be during visiting hours or scheduled.”

”Good. Lexus has been asking if she could call the hospital to talk to you. I guess she doesn't really have much time to visit, with everything that's been going on with her and John.”

I shrugged. I couldn't think about Lexus or John. I had to be strong and stay positive to get out of Bent Creek.

”I miss her,” I heard slip from between my lips.

Mom nodded at me. ”I will give her the hospital's number. Everyone has been asking about you. Of course, Alison and Nick want to come visit you. They miss you. They have written you other letters, but I must have forgotten those letters at home. Oh, well. I'll bring the letters to you next time.”

”Will you hug them for me?”

”Of course I will.”

”And please tell everyone who's been asking ”h.e.l.lo” for me.”

”I will do that.”

”And Mom?”

”Yes?”

”I will be out of here soon. I feel different. I feel like I can beat this, and I won't be doing anything to get myself back in here again.”

Mom smiled warmly. It was a real smile, not a forced one. She believed me. I believed me.

After visiting hours, I immediately wanted to go back to the room to get the book that Dr. Pelchat had given me on BPD. I remembered seeing Mena go to the Girls' Unit. I knew she'd be in the room, lying on her bed, probably listening to music that screamed she hated the world.

Against my feelings, I went to the room anyway. When I walked in, the room was empty. Mena wasn't there. Relieved, I went over to my bed and grabbed the book from the bedside table. I looked at the cover. There was a picture of a girl's reflection from inside of a broken mirror. The shards of the mirror remained in the center. Pieces had broken out from the center and had scattered, causing the girl's reflection to look distorted. Her face was misshapen and disoriented.

The cover was playing tricks on my eyes. It made me want to open it. So I did, and skipped through the pages. The t.i.tles of the chapters looked boring: Borderline Personality Disorder, What is BPD? Who Am I? The Symptoms and the Root, The Borderline. One chapter caught my attention: Self-Injury and Suicide.

I read on. I found a quote from a girl who had been suffering with Borderline Personality Disorder at the time she was interviewed for the book. She'd written: ”I tend to think about suicide quite often. When I think about it, it seems like the only welcoming solution. It's the only thing I seem to be able to think about, and it makes me feel as if I have something. I find it very hard to not selfmutilate, and I tell myself that this is what I deserve. When I hurt myself, the fear and the pain of everything that is going on in my life disappears.”

It was as though I were reading my own words. Afraid, I threw the book down to the floor. I covered my eyes with my hands and tried not to see the girl's face on the front cover. I tried not to hear her voice speaking those words. It was easier to cut. It was so easy to cut so deep. Deep enough to get wire-sutured st.i.tches, but not deep enough to die.

Mr. Sharp's angry eyes breathed cold air through my heart that pumped hate through my veins. His s.h.i.+ning eyes begged. He was upset. How long could I deny him? How did I think that I could deny him? He whispered through those silver b.u.t.terfly wings onto my skin, If you deny me now, then you deny me forever. I will leave you. You will be alone.

I was too scared. When the wings pressed to my skin, I jolted. The pain was not how I remembered it. It used to be so easy. But I couldn't do it. I put the b.u.t.terfly pendant back into my pocket, and I didn't hear Mr. Sharp anymore. Instead, the pain got thicker and heavier. I got up off the bed quickly and I rushed onto the main unit. Geoffrey was sitting at the counselor's desk. I leaned on the desk and greeted him. He smiled up at me.

”Hey there! Do you need something?”

”May I have a pencil and a sheet of paper, please?” I asked him.

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