Part 36 (1/2)
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”How is that?”
”Look at your wrists.”
Anger began to well inside of me. I locked eyes with him. And when I did, I knew he had me. I couldn't look away when he began to speak.
”You tried to kill yourself a little less than a month and a half ago. Your heart stopped beating, and you could have died. Do you realize that, Kristen?”
”Do you feel like you failed? Kristen?”
”I failed? Is that what this is about? I failed! And Rocky succeeded. He got out!” The anger and the tears flowed out of me.
”That's how you see it? Rocky got out? And you failed because you didn't?”
”Why do you say that? Why do you keep saying 'failed'?”
”Isn't that what you mean? Those were your words. You said 'failed'.”
”What? No. You just said. You said, 'You failed.'”
”I'm just repeating what you wrote.”
”What I wrote?”
Dr. Pelchat opened my chart and pulled out a wrinkled, sheet of paper. He reached out and handed it to me. I looked at it.
”My c.r.a.ppy poem.”
I had never seen Dr. Pelchat look so shocked. ”Is that what you call it, Kristen?” he asked.
”Yes,” I said.
”It doesn't look like a c.r.a.ppy poem to me. It looks like a very deep piece of work created from an expression of serious emotion.”
I tried not to let his compliment affect the anger I was feeling inside.
”How did you get this?” I asked.
”I found it on the floor of the main unit right next to a broken pencil. The sitting area was being cleared out, and I asked Geoffrey who had taken paper and pencil from the counselor's desk, and hadn't returned the pencil. Your name was mentioned.”
”Right.”
”Why are you so angry, Kristen?”
”What makes you think I'm angry, Dr. Pelchat?” I only said his name because he kept saying mine every time he asked me a question.
”You are responding to me with some anger in your voice. Are you angry?”
”I'm upset.”
”What is that poem about?”
”It's about the Devil,” I snapped. I was annoyed at him for asking me so many questions.
”The Devil? Help me understand, Kristen. How does the Devil tie into that?”
”It's about how the Devil is evil. And we are evil. And we do evil things that the Devil likes. Like hurting people. Like hurting children. Like killing ourselves. And when we do this, we may not necessarily be trying to kill ourselves, but maybe we are trying to do something else.”
”Are you speaking about yourself?”
”I don't know. Rocky killed himself. He got put in here because he had tried to kill himself. But then when he got in here, the place that was supposed to help him, well, he succeeded in killing himself.”
Dr. Pelchat did not respond. He just kept looking at me.
So I continued, ”I tried to kill myself. I failed. But now I feel...” I stopped myself. ”I mean, I feel confused.”
”About what?”
”I thought that I wanted to die.”
”Do you not feel like you want to die?”
”Sometimes.”
”How about right now?”
”Frustrated. Confused.”
”I see. Does Rocky's suicide make you feel frustrated and confused about your own feelings towards what you had tried to do to yourself?”
I thought about his question. Rocky seemed to really want to die. He had tried it and even when he was brought in to Bent Creek, the feeling seemed not to leave him. Maybe he was in the wrong place. Maybe he needed to be somewhere long term, like Janine. Was he hopeless, as Dr. Bent had said that some people are? Was I hopeless too?
”Yes,” I answered Dr. Pelchat. ”It does change my feelings. I do sometimes feel like I would be better off gone, but then I feel like...”
”Yes? Like what, Kristen?”
”Like it can't all be hopeless. Right?”
”No,” Dr. Pelchat a.s.sured me. ”You're not hopeless. If you are hopeless, then, what are we both doing here?”
I don't know, I thought to myself. I sank back in my seat feeling calm, but still a bit frustrated. I wanted to understand what it felt like to be hopeful and actually want to get through all of this. I needed to know what it meant to cope, survive, and not feel like I wanted to die.
Dr. Pelchat opened my chart and began to write. I tried to sit up to see what he was writing. Doctors were good at scribbling so that no one could understand what they were writing except other doctors and nurses. It seemed like a secret code only doctors used.
Finally, Dr. Pelchat looked back up at me. He said, ”You are making great progress. You should know that, Kristen.”
Even more confused, I said with a sarcastic smile, ”That's good to know, Dr. Pelchat.”