Oath Breaker

Ryan's March 4, 2022.

I was never any good with words or feelings. There is a want to pull people close and not let them go and that's a side of me that never sees the light of day. I push that person down and tell him he is better off by himself. Being here has forced me to go back in time and dig out old advice I was given and try to actually apply it. I remember when I first started real therapy, I was seeing this middle aged woman named Sara who preached to me about finding myself in God, positive journaling, gratitude lists, meditation, and exercise. I could barely function and she was adding things for me to have to take on; it was far too much to juggle and it all seemed so unrealistic. I felt like therapy was just a sick person telling someone who is even sicker how to pretend to be fine and how to pretend you're a better person. They taught you how to engage in various distractions and made yourself out to be the only thing in your way. 

It wasn't all me, y'know? It can't always be my fault. When I even tried to express any of this, I could tell she was getting sick and tired. She couldn't handle the task of just talking to me for an hour a week so she deemed me treatment resistant. My parents changed my therapist as often as they changed their minds about getting a divorce. I was always the bad guy and after a while my parents started to agree. It all came to a head with dishes being thrown and forbidden words being said. I was pushing some boundaries and getting into so much trouble just begging for someone to care. I can hear my aunt's voice in my head already, telling me that if they didn't care they wouldn't have gone through the trouble of finding therapist after therapist and taking me to church that often. Maybe she's right? Its hard for me to really say. 

They sent me to a group home facility. A place for broken toys and failed dreams that belonged to parents. We were watched pretty closely, you wouldn't find me with anything sharp that's for damn sure. They wouldn't even let me have a pencil sharpener. I got along pretty well with everyone there but I was set in this pattern of inviting them in and closing them off. Unfortunately for this beautiful girl named Taylor, I fell head over heels for her. I mean, I just could not leave her alone and I told myself I was smothering her but I did it out of fear. Anytime another guy even looked at her, I was ready to throw a punch. It was too much for the both of us, the absolute stress of it all. I was a toxic person to be with and I recognize that but it is so hard for me to change. I got into so many fights and I made the environment worse for everyone with my constant mood swings, contradictions, flashbacks, and triggers. It was every day they would call my parents and threaten to kick me out. Eventually, my parents had enough and gave my aunt custody of me. 

Here I was now, back in another little group home with people who weren't like me at all. At least the group home had people as sick as me. I tried to protect them and distance myself and now they push themselves closer. I don't want to get attached like I always do and ruin everything. After one real conversation with this new girl, all I could do was think about her and I was worried sick for her. I thought to myself that I would be there for support and whatever came of her big meeting - I would force myself out of hiding to be present. I didn't care that she was nosy, I took it to be that she was interested or was also thinking about me. 

My meeting started off as stale as they normally are. He tells me what he read and asks me tons of questions. He shows me my own sketches and asks why I did them. He judges them and then I'm supposed to be granted an item of my choosing (there are exceptions). He likes me for some reason; He says that him and I are kindred spirits and I end up leaving with more food or items than everyone else and that makes me paranoid. I worry that they'll think I'm in his pocket or they'll get angry with me. I try to be as discreet as I can, hiding the small gifts in my clothes before putting them in my corner. The thing I always ask for though is my medications which he normally supplies unless he thinks I don't deserve them. He will give me three bottles each at a time to last me those three months so I have to make sure to keep journaling in that timeframe. This time, however, when I asked for my medications - he refused me. He said that he knew something to give me that was much more interesting and would even the playing fields. 

He presented me with this gift wrapped box and told me to not open it until I am back in the greenhouse. He chuckled at himself, clearly amused by its contents and that was enough to put me on edge. Was I sneaking in a bomb to end his little game? Was it someone's head or left toe? I was thinking of the worst possible options. Was I supposed to open it in private or in front of everyone? I wasn't sure what to do when they forced me back inside the greenhouse doors. I wanted to chuck the damn thing as far as I could and put my fingers in my ears while crouching down. I wanted to play hot potato with the it and hope it ends with Stella. She gave Emily the fucking idea to begin with. Now I'm being punished? Is that what this is?

I looked at everyone with pure fear before I decided to sit down on the floor. They joined around me and for a moment we stared at the new gift. Stella kept trying to crack jokes to make this tension less unbearable but after a while Vaughn told her that she had to stop. By this point, Emily was led outside and though moments ago I could only think of her - I was swept up into something else. When I first went to pull the large gold ribbon, Abigail of all people stopped my hand and whispered, "Wait." Stella, though obviously trying to cover up her own anxiety, pretended she was annoyed with all of us and that we needed to just open the thing.

So I did, for a minute the only sound in the entire greenhouse was of gift wrapping paper being ripped and torn. I took the lid off the box slowly but was surprised to find only a few journals and a handwritten note. The note simply said, "To even the playing fields and punish the wicked -TO". After I read it, I put it down on the floor where everyone turned their attention to read as well. I looked at each journal briefly, looking at the name labels on the covers. I had a journal belonging to each of The Keepers, except myself and Emily. 

"They're yours, I'm supposed to read your journals", I finally raise my head back up to look at them in their now panicking eyes. 

Stella forces a laugh, "That is ridiculous, is he is trying to start drama? Couldn't he just watch reruns of Jersey Shore? None of us have anything to hide so there is no need."

I stare at her, "You read people's journals when you think you can get away with it but suddenly now you're drawing the line?"

Vaughn is quiet, watching us bicker and rubbing his temples from the stress. Abigail interrupts us, "Eye for an eye. Leviticus 24:19–21, its fair."

I was stunned by her answer but ultimately I agreed with her. Plus, what would happen if I didn't read them? Would he deny my medication again? It started to dawn on me that he did in fact place a bomb in the greenhouse: me. Here I was, looking forward to three months without my medications that I need to suppress the not so pleasant parts of me - and journals worth of knowledge that he specifically picked for me to read. He wants me to explode on everyone, he wants to see my anger overpower me and for me to isolate myself even more afterwards. He likes me because I'm a weapon to him, I'm just as effective as the pistol at his waist. I felt sick to my stomach and so depressed that this is who I am and he is taking advantage of it. I did not want to be the spark that starts a fire and consumes everything around me anymore. 

"I am going to read them, for my own safety, but I have to be honest with you guys. You know I'm sick, sick in the head. Abi, you've seen it and I could apologize one hundred times and it not repair our relationship. He supplies me with my antipsychotic and mood stabilizer here. But this time, he wouldn't hand them over. He expects a strong reaction and I'm not going to give it. We have to work out some sort of plan."

When I say that, I find myself breaking as I get emotional causing my voice to crack more than once. I felt ashamed for the tears down my cheeks and the vulnerability I was forced to display. Abigail dries her own eyes  but looks away from me, clearly showing me she is still not on my side. I expected as much after the absolute hell I caused. I put the lid back on the box and sigh loudly before heading back to my corner, now waiting for Emily's return.