Last (40)

Welcome to the (Freaks') Club

5. Welcome to the (Freaks’) Club

Seared, that’s what the cheek of my butt felt like. Three songs played in the car before dad opened the trunk and took my bags. Let it be, Home, American Pie.

So bye-bye, miss American pie.

Drove my Chevy to the levee,

But the levee was dry.

And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye

Singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.

"This’ll be the day that I die."

“This will be the day that I’ll die,” I whispered to myself, as we mounted.

I stood looking at those bags filled with my things, and maybe my whole room. My nose flared like a bull ready to tackle the fucking matador. They really planned this thing. They want to get rid of me. Fuck them!

And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye

Singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.

"This’ll be the day that I die."

“Did you bring my blue box?” I said, referring to the locked box where I placed my writings and my un-started-diary.

“Yes,” he said and smiled.

I wanted to hit his goddamn balls and break it, fried ‘em and throw ‘em.

Dickenson Rehabilitation Center was the place meant for freaks, not me. I was not meant to live on that place, but I had no choice. I sat on a monobloc chair, filling out the questions: my medical history and if I was using drugs or solvents.

Name: Megan Anderson

Age: fucking 12 years old

Sex: Never tried, even once. I don’t want to. FEMALE.

My parents gave me a tight hug and left me with a smile on their faces. There, I had my first unusual day for seven years. I met three persons, not those important characters but still they completed my days in the Dickenson. I named them as Patient X, Y, and Z. No last names. I hate memorizing names and they shouldn’t be recognize, they’re just a pinch of pepper in my life. They were like Three Stooges, insane and outrageous.

Patient X was a fat woman, in her mid-twenties, very talkative, and of course insane.

“Hey ya girl, do ya believe in God?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Why?”

“I’m His daughter.”

“What?”

“Don’t tell anyone, okay? God sent me in this place to spread the word of God. Do ya read Bible? Do ya know Jesus? His my brother, do ya know that? Freaking great right? I could perform miracles!”

I stared, and continued to listen her insane stories.

“My mother was just a human like Mary. Do ya know her?” she said and uttered a prayer, “Hail Mary full of grace the Lord is with thee blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of your womb Jesus…But some says, Hell Mary fool of grease the Lord is with thee. Funny right? If I heard someone pronounced like that, I’ll hit her head.”