Hiding Myself

Chapter Nine

*Song of this chapter - Deep End by Birdy*

Wednesday 20th December 2002: 13:00pm

PAISLEE IVY

It's been three months. Three months of hell... torture... and pain. I can't explain why I'm so terrified.

I'm terrified of what could happen in the next few hours. I could either end up with my father again, homeless on the streets, dead, or exactly were I am.

When Asher came to take care of me, he took me straight to the hospital so I could be in immediate care.

Due to the amount of pills I had taken, I had a high risk of death. Unfortunately, I didn't. They were able to help me as it was a soon discovery.

I was insisted to stay at the hospital for the next three weeks after to be in intensive care and on suicide watch.

Asher never came back. He never came to visit or leave a message for me as to why he never saw me, so I haven't talked him since the day he took me into the hospital.

He even changed my surgeon just so he didn't have to care for me. I want to scream at him and tell him that he's doing that for selfish reasons. But then I remember that I tried to kill myself in a strangers home who has a four year old daughter.

They couldn't have any other better reason.

They put me in a psychiatric hospital after my three weeks was over. Deep inside of me, I was begging myself to scream at them and tell them to leave me alone. But I didn't.

I didn't because I knew I had nothing else. Nobody else.

I was alone.

So being in a psych hospital would help me more than I could imagine. I was physically and sexually abused by my own father and then tried to kill myself.

I might need this more than I believed. But I won't talk. I'm not an open person like that. I only talked to Lexi because I felt the warmth and comfort she carried wrap around me.

She made me want to stay alive. Nobody's ever given me that feeling before. But now she's gone and the only thing I have is myself.

I can only talk to myself. Not this women in front of me. She's not someone I want to talk to, and never will be.

Her names Michelle and she looks to be around the age of forty. She's been asking me questions for the past half hour, but I haven't answered one.

I hate therapists. I always have, and so did my mother. I don't want to talk to someone openly about my feelings and experience, for them to just write an essay about it and inform their colleagues of my life.

If I want to talk to someone, then I want them to listen to me. To actually care about me, and give me genuine advice.

She hasn't talked for a while and my attention goes back on her. I stare at her for a while, not letting a word come out of my mouth.

That's when she sighs and finally places her clipboard on the floor, along with her pen. Her eyes continue looking at mine, but not before she speaks up.

"You can talk to me, Paislee" I hate that name.

"I'm not here to be an enemy to you. I'm here to help you" her voice is gentle. But my mind goes in many places I physically can't.

I'm still. Not moving a muscle.

"Ok. We'll have to talk tomorrow then. Have a good sleep, Paislee" she stands up, walking towards the door with her back to me.

But before she leaves, I finally speak.

"Call me Ivy."

Michelle turns around, and smiles at me. Shes not once heard my voice and she's been doing these therapy sessions with me for a total of ninety eight days.

I can see the slight change in her mood. Almost filled with hope. I won't be much hope for her, she doesn't seem to have learnt that yet.

I stand up, walking towards my bedroom door. I immediately go to my window and look out at the parking lots.

Asher's there. He shows he doesn't care but I can see it. He comes everyday after my sessions and talks to Michelle. Probably to see if any progress has been made.

I would just sit there and look out at them, wondering what he's saying and if he even cares. Maybe Lexi just forced him to come.

It shows that he might care, which gives a slight glimpse of possibility that he hopes I'll be ok, and wants to see me. I hope that's true. I miss the few days I had with them.

They were strangers to me. But those strangers were the piece of my life that I was missing.

I want that back. I don't have anything else. Not even a friend. I'm alone in this world.

Asher walks away, taking his seat in the car. At this point, there's always a look of sympathy on his face. Most likely for my lack of communication with the therapist.

I love seeing him come everyday. But I hate that he can't see me, and how much I want out.

I need out!