Stephanie helps me up from the bed, being extra careful of my wounds. Though she may not look it, she’s a lot stronger than I anticipated. With tan skin and hair that’s darker than even mine, she’s a petite little thing, but obviously looks can be deceiving, because as we make our way to the bathroom, she practically carries me all the way there, taking the brunt of my weight. The metal bars attached to my leg clang with each movement, and I flinch at the noise.
She lowers me onto a hospital grade stool. It’s one of those stools elderly people tend to use. She helps me strip out of one of the many plain gowns I’ve been in since I got here.
“I know this is uncomfortable, but I promise, I’ll try to be quick.”
“Thanks,” I mumble. “I’m sure having to wash someone isn’t all unicorns and rainbows for you either.”
She pauses as she gets the warm water and washcloth ready. “You’re not like the other patients.”
I can’t help but scoff. “Yeah, that’s because I don’t belong here.”
Her lips twist. “On second thought, maybe you are. I hear that at least thirty times a day.”
I roll my eyes, not even bothering with a retort. I’m sure anything more out of my mouth, and they’ll strap me back down to that cot they’re passing off as a bed.
“Where are we, anyway?”
“Napa.”
I feel my eyes widen. “As in Napa State Hospital? Jesus Christ, this place is for the criminally insane!”
She raises a brow, lathering the towel with soap. “It’s not as bad as it used to be. The assaults have dropped quite a bit.”
My eyes narrow. “How much are they paying you to say that?”
She smirks, dipping her hand under the running water to check the temperature. “You really aren’t like the other patients.”
“You guys want to bring me out there with other patients? Are you crazy? These people have murdered and pled insanity to get in here and avoid prison time. The most I’ve ever done is dye my hair and speak to my dead sister.”
Stephanie pauses. “That’s why you’re in here?” She seems taken aback as if she thought I was in here for far worse.
“Well, maybe that wasn’t all. I did lie to my boyfriend and try to get his friends thrown in jail. So, definitely no angel, but definitely not a psycho mass-murderer either.”
Still staring at me oddly, she shakes her head, brushing it off. “There are different levels of the hospital. The room they have you in is quite nice. The chances of you being moved into the communal area are slim. Dr. Aster only allows it when her patients show progress, and well…”
“I haven’t progressed at all.”
And now I’m glad I haven’t made it easier on the doctor. I’d much rather be on my own than stuffed into a room with a roommate who may or may not try to murder me in my sleep.
“I think she just wants to give you a feel of the place. Give you something to look forward to once you have a breakthrough.”
“Believe me, there will be no breaking through. I know my truth. I know what I saw. Most people may not be able to understand it, but I do.”
She smiles down at me sadly then gets to work. I have the urge to curl in on myself as she cleans me. Because what woman needs another woman’s help cleaning herself? It’s beyond degrading, and with each day I’m stuck here, I hate my parents even more. They haven’t come to visit. I don’t know if that’s been their decision or Dr. Aster’s. Regardless, I feel abandoned. Even Madison has left me. She always seems to be missing when I need her the most.
Following the doctor’s instructions to a T, Stephanie pages her once we’re ready. I kept my eyes closed during the whole process, refusing to look at myself, or rather, look around as another washes the dirt and grime from my body.
Dr. Aster pops back into the room with her annoying ass smile and that stupid notebook, taking in my clean skin and the shitty attitude I still have. She motions to the nurses and leads the way, the burly male nurse in step beside her. Stephanie pushes me in a wheelchair, making me feel like an even bigger invalid than I already do, and the other male nurse trails us like security.
I roll my eyes internally. Am I really that much of a flight risk?
Even if they want everyone else to believe this place is safe, it’s obviously not. She wouldn’t need to walk around with three guards if it was, and I refuse to believe all the muscle is for me. In this state, I can barely throw a pebble at someone, let alone attack them.
“This entire wing that we’re walking in is considered the infirmary. Makes access for doctors and the medical team to get in and out much easier. Since you’re not in the best of conditions, we’ll be keeping you here until you’re able to walk on your own. This will give your body and mind the proper time to heal itself.”
The hallway is long and bleak looking. With linoleum floors that are an off-white gray color and walls that are a blinding white, everything here is so…plain. So colorless and bland. It’s a stark contrast to the vibrancy of LA, the vibrant green of the trees in Ferndale, and the ruckus that is New York. Being in this place is like a shock to the system—like having all the color drained from your life. Once we near the end of the hallway, it breaks off into a T, where you can either go left or right. Dr. Aster points to the left side of the hallway first.
“Back this way is where the facility branches off into the group activity center, and this way,” she says with a snap of her fingers, ordering us to follow. “This is the communal area and back down that hallway over there is the crafts room. If we were to go the opposite way, meaning the other side of the hallway, we’d enter more of the housing for patients. We have everyone here coordinated by wings and levels. For example, depending on their behaviors and whatever supervision they need, all that is taken into consideration when a patient is placed on a certain floor.” She glances back at me, and for a few seconds, we share a look, none of us saying anything. It’s hard to read what’s going through her mind. It seems Dr. Aster has mastered the ability to shield her thoughts from her patients. She snaps out of it and continues with her speech. “As I was saying, the patients here can watch TV, play games, and do group activities together. If they’re deemed stable enough to be around others,” she’s quick to add, as if she’s trying not to get my hopes. I couldn’t really care less. The last thing I want to do is make friends with anyone here.
“This is an important step in the rehabilitation process of the mind. Working with and being near others does something magical for the mind and soul. Even though you’re not quite ready for that yet, I do believe when you open up to me, things will change for you, Mackenzie. You’ll see.”
I scoff, and my eyes roll heavenward.
Sounds like a crock of shit to me.
Dr. Aster clears her throat, effectively ignoring me, and dives back into her spiel as if she never missed a beat. She prattles on and on about all the amazing activities and programs they have, but I’m not paying attention. Instead, my gaze is fixed on the hordes of patients that we pass as we roll through. If I wasn’t sure before, I’m sure of it now. I truly don’t belong here. When you think of a mental institution, I’m sure you picture patients dressed in colorless and lifeless clothes that talk to themselves, and honestly, what I’m staring at right now isn’t all that different.