Behind every mean girl...there's a tragedy

Unwanted

 I spend an entire week in isolation. A nurse brings me food and drinks three times a day with two little pills I have to swallow in front of her. That's the only human contact I was allowed to have.

I can finally relate to Passenger's song. Now that I'm far away from my house and everyone else, I miss them like crazy. I go as far as missing Darwin. That in turns depresses me even more.

Today is my deliverance day. My punishment has passed and I'm back in the room I first woke up in with a crazy roommate named Daisy who thinks she's at the North Pole. She has checked the "Naughty List" at least ten times in less than thirty minutes. Apparently, Santa doesn't like mistakes.

Guess who's at the top of the list? Well, it isn't much of a surprise. If there's actually a real one, I'm sure I'm at the top of that one, too.

I haven't completely adjusted to the idea of sharing a room. I spent all my life as an only child with two cousin who I haven't seen for over five years so I don't know how to share anything.

The nurses continue to cast me wary look as if they're waiting for me to break down again at any moment. If only I was in my own turf, I would give them a good reason to be scared of me. Instead, I'm stuck in here with them as my superiors.

While eating the usual bland cereal and milk they force us to gulp down every morning at seven, Carla comes to inform me of my visitors. In my hurried state, I almost knock off the bowl.

"Heyyy," protest the table's other occupants which are Daisy and friends.

They've been wrapping bricks all morning. I feel bad for those kids who are supposed to wake in the morning only to find poorly wrapped bricks under their tree.

As crazy I might think Daisy and her friends are, at least they have each other. At least they're not like me who's so excited about someone finally visiting her that she can't handle herself.

I find my mother and Steven waiting inside of my shared room as the power couple they always seem to be in public; Steven, with eyes out of the window and a phone stuck to his ears, looking as busy as ever in his black business suit while my mother, who stands by him, rocks her knee-length black dress and cream Louboutin heels. Her raven black hair obediently resting still on her back.

Why can't my mom just go back to her jeans and T-shirt look?

"Oh my darling," she rushes toward me with her arms open for a hug which I duck out of.

"Great, you finally remember me," I mutter sarcastically.

Steven either hasn't noticed my entrance or doesn't care because his babbling doesn't stop, "Absolutely not Ms. Linx, we have to close up this deal today..."

Business as always.

"We've been so worried about you," my mom says.

"You wouldn't have to if you didn't throw me in a mental hospital like a I'm a crazy person," I shout at her. Steven shushes me but I stare at him and shout louder, "This not your house. You don't want to hear me talk so get out. Nobody needs you anyway."

"I got to go, Ms. Linx. My daughter seems to be experiencing another break down." He hangs up

"I'm not your daughter." I dig my nails in the palm my hands, stopping myself from hitting him.

"Rachel Jackson," my mom finger-wags, "I will not tolerate such ungrateful attitude from you. If it's wasn't for Steven, you wouldn't be able to get the help that you need."

"Exactly what kind of help do you think I need, mother?"

"I understand you might be feeling a bit angry, Dr. Frey..."

"No, you don't understand anything. You're just following whatever those stupid doctors are saying. None of them know me. I don't deserve to be here. I'm fine."

"Well Rachel," Steven starts with his hands on top of my mother's shoulders. She might as well be a gnome under his 6' 1" posture. "That's exactly what anyone could expect a sick person to say. The first step to get better is to acknowledge the problem. You don't have to do this alone, let us help you."

I crack my knuckles unsubtly. Can somebody please let me punch this guy?

My mom gives his hands a little squeeze and smile happily at me, "We're here for you."

So I have nobody.

"Are you guys done? I have more important things to do than to stand here and listening to..."

"Hello, you've reached Steven Reel," Steven answers his phone before I finish the sentence..

"I think we're going now. I don't want to keep Steven from his work for too long."

I eye the man who has already forgotten all about "his family business" to go back to his actual business. "Trust me mom, you're not keeping him from anything."

"Business men," she giggles as if that's supposed to explain everything.

Leave it to my mom to make excuses for the man who clearly does not care whether either of us live or die.

"Everyone has their flaws, Rachel. Marriage is to make it work with those flaws," she whispers to me.

"Just like you made it work with dad," I challenge. Her eyes widen just a bit before she gives me a dismissal smile.

"It's nice to see you so well taken care of," she says louder as Steven hangs up his call.

"Henriette, I can't stay any longer. I have a meeting with a client in half an hour."

She answers as soon as his mouth closes, "We're all done here." She awkwardly kisses my forehead. "We'll come see you soon again, Rachel. We won't forget about you."

"Please do." Her smile vanishes.

Steven sends a curt nod as they leave

I deflate in my bed, pinning over my own stupidity. I didn't mean to tell her to forget about me. Why would I want my own mother to forget me? Her blinding love for Steven infuriates me, though. Why couldn't she be like that with dad? Or me?

Seeing her with Steven sometimes makes me forget she's my mother. She becomes the annoying woman clinging to her husband for everything. She becomes someone I hate.

I lie on my bed, pondering on my thoughts, forgetting where I am until a nurse calls me back into the athletic room for our routine exercises. I follow the schedule to the letter. One week of insanity by myself was enough for me. I'm already mentally and emotionally lonely, I don't think I can handle the physical loneliness too.

I stand at the back of the class, stretching out. A couple of others join in the guided stretches but for the most part they're throwing balls at each other. There're no equipment to do any real exercises, only a few balls and weights made out of rubber. They're worried somebody would use any other thing they provide us to end their life or like the real crazy ones – to kill someone.

I can't believe my family thinks I'm tormented enough to end up under the same roof as someone who believes in unicorns and leprechauns. I'm sane. I don't even hear Kenny and Sarah anymore. And I've always known they're not real. I just can't shake them off. I think I need them as much as I need oxygen.

The exercising time ends before I even shed a sweat. I'm going to get out of this place as an unfit psychopath if they don't come to take me soon.