Oh Ms Believer

51. Samantha

I spent about three weeks in the hospital. After the first week, when Dad got home, I started to feel better.

I was sooo mad at Mom for sending me to the hospital in the first place. I don't really remember the night I got sent to the hospital, if I'm honest. I came back from Aunt Debby's still feeling miserable and I guess guilty. I'd been so convinced that it was my fault Kyle did what he did. No one was able to convince me otherwise.

But worse was the sounds and images I kept seeing in my mind. I could hear and smell and see everything from that day. And the worst was I saw Blaine's ruined face everywhere. In my mind, on walls, around corners, every time I closed my eyes. I couldn't get rid of the images.

But when Dad came back from tour, I don't know. It was better. I still couldn't shake the feeling it was my fault, though.

Dad visited me every day from the day he came home. A couple of days later, we had our first family session. I didn't want to be there. I didn't want to be in the hospital still. I think I was still in denial that I really did need to be there.

I hadn't wanted Mom there. Again, I was still so mad about being there.

At our first family session, Doc asked me something no one has asked me since school started. What happened when I went into the school. So I told him. And Mom and Dad. I closed my eyes because I didn't want to see their reactions. I told them about the sounds and the smells and the images I saw when I walked into the school building. I told Doc why I never told anyone before. That I didn't want them to have the images burned into their minds, too. That I didn't want Rosie or Junie to hear. I didn't want them to get scared.

Something broke inside me when I told them and I cried. Dad was sitting beside me in that session and he wrapped his arms around me and I could feel him crying on me, too.

After our session, Dad walked me back to my room. After he left, Doc came by and we had our one on one. And I actually felt better having told them all about what happened when I went into the school. A huge weight lifted off my shoulder.

Doc gave me back my phone and I sort of stared at it for a bit. I powered it on and re-read all the texts I'd gotten since the weekend, the one that ended with me going to the hospital. I didn't answer any of them just yet. I needed to think about how to respond. But I would. I smiled at my friends' and family's instagrams, caught up on some school gossip and then turned my phone in to the nurse's station to go for lunch. Up to that day I hated mealtimes. I had to eat in the day room with everyone and I still couldn't really eat. But that day, I was actually hungry. I'm not sure what we were served, but I ate it. It was okay. And it stayed down.

Mom and Dad visited that afternoon and every day after. I started being less mad at Mom as Doc and I talked during our one on ones about why I was in the hospital. Doc helped me work through it all. It was easier to eat and I stopped feeling so... bad.

I even started talking in group.

"Samantha?" Doc said that first group session I participated in. "You've had some big gains this week. Want to talk about them?"

"Yeah. Why are you even here? You never speak," Some kid named Daniel asked.

"Shut up, Daniel. She doesn't have to talk if she don't want to," Shanice, another girl on the unit said.

"I guess, well, I'm here because I was blaming myself for the shooting at my school," I said.

"That's dumb," Shanice said. "Unless you held the gun, how could it be your fault?"

"Shanice, let's watch our language. We aren't blaming anyone for how they feel," Doc said.

"Sorry," Shanice said. "Go on."

"Well," I said. "I tutored... I tutored the kid who did it. And he failed math, got kicked off the baseball team and then came and shot up our classroom. I feel... felt? maybe, that it was my fault."

"But you didn't actually do anything. Like, you didn't shoot anyone or tell him to shoot anyone, right?" Another kid said.

"Well, no. Obviously," I said.

"So, this kid made a stupid decision, did a terrible thing to you and your school but you think it's your fault?"

I shrugged and looked at my foot.

"Samantha has dealt with a lot of issues prior to this," Doc said. "This, however, is the most violent, I think. Would you say, Samantha?"

I looked up at Doc and thought for a second.

"Yeah. I guess so. I mean, Stanley was pretty bad. But at least I knew why he was the way he was. What happened at school... I don't know. All I could think was that I tutored him and he failed. Which meant I failed."

"But you didn't. We, as humans, tend to blame ourselves often for things that aren't our fault or aren't caused by something we did. And when we have a history similar to yours, where we've internalized so much, it's not unnatural to react in such a way. However when we are seeing the images you were seeing and not letting the people around us know so they can help, we wind up in a crisis situation."

I talked a little more. And so did some of the other kids. I felt better. The kids in group didn't blame me and they didn't even know me.

For the next couple of weeks Doc and I worked through the images and sounds and why I was seeing them and hearing them and how to try to stop them.

One morning, one of the kids on the unit had a breakdown. He started saying he was going to kill everyone and I couldn't handle that. I hid in my room that whole day. I wouldn't leave. No one could get me to leave my room. The nurses brought my meals to me, but I couldn't eat them. I was afraid. Scared that what happened at school would happen here. The kid was raging all day. No one was allowed on or off the unit. So Mom and Dad couldn't visit.

The next day, when they could visit again, I clung to Dad. He'd always made me feel so safe. Maybe because he'd been the one to catch me that night in their back yard. The night I became part of their family.

The day Mom and Dad came to take me home was one of the happiest of my life. Maybe the day they adopted me was the front runner, but going home after three weeks in the hospital, was up there.

And to top it off, they'd gotten Uncle B, Aunt Sarah, Uncle Pete, Uncle Patrick, Uncle Josh and Aunt Debby together and they were all at the house.

Along with Uncle Zack, who wrapped me in such a tight hug, I thought he was going to break my ribs. He said he hoped I wasn't mad at him because he'd helped get me to the hospital. I hugged him back. I wasn't mad at him. I was grateful.

He'd helped Mom when I wouldn't let her help me. I hugged him tight and let him know I loved him.