A Fractured Echo

Chapter 1

Swapping one form of institution for another had been a gigantic period of adjustment. So many things remained the same, yet significant differences became apparent on an almost daily basis.

My new home came courtesy of a charity that worked with vulnerable teenagers and young adults. Having seen the news coverage of my case they felt they could provide a viable solution to assist the 'poor girl who couldn't recall who she was'. Whilst they'd probably never used those actual words it was a label that seemed to follow me around, and one that I was desperate to shake off in the hopes of finding a new normal.

The place offered gave the possibility of safe breathing space while I figured things out more clearly without the pressure of imminent deadlines for decision making. There was also the added advantage of the support services they provided, which would be exceptionally helpful seeing as I had no idea how things actually worked out in the real world. Knowing that there genuinely was no pressure to make major decisions unless whole heartedly ready for them.

Finding that desperately needed sense of equilibrium had taken much longer than anticipated. Naively, I'd assumed that knowing what to do once released would just come as naturally as breathing. That hypothesis couldn't have been more wide of the mark if I'd tried. Adjusting to no longer requiring authorisation for something as simple as leaving the building had been the hardest obstacle. Grasping that there was no need for anyone's permission to do anything was so alien that the first three weeks had been wasted, only venturing outside the comfort of my room to forage for sustenance.

Cheryl, one of the rougher residents had taken to calling me 'Donna' every time I had the misfortune to encounter her in the communal areas. I had no idea what crime had been committed to be on her radar, my first instinct was to scuttle back to the sanctuary of my personal space.

Her voice dripping with disdain as she acknowledged or referred to me. The girl had a liking for wearing an excessive amount of denim and plaid along with industrial looking boots. Something that I felt she favoured to add to the air of intimidation.

It was only when Jodie moved in that I overheard a conversation between them that I finally understood.

From my vantage point peeping through the crack in the door, I knew I shouldn't really be eavesdropping, but the compulsion to understand where the incessant need to single me out had come from.

"So one to avoid would be Donna." Her thick accent affirmed.

Nodding slowly but looking slightly confused, the new girl responded, "The home manager didn't mention anyone called Donna living here."

Throwing her head back sharply, a hearty cackle burst forth from Cheryl's lips. "Oh that's not her real name. We've been told to give her space because she can't remember who she is, but you can tell it's all an act."

Jodie gasped at the coldness of her words, while I had to bite my lip to avoid giving my position away.

"She spends all her time locked in her room, so I call her Donna after one of those cartoon turtles. You know...always in her shell." Cheryl added with a snide grin.

About to beat a hasty retreat once more to my protective bubble, the other girl's next words stopped me dead in my tracks.

"Good job I don't need your advice then isn't it? When I finally meet her, I'll take the time to get to know her instead of judging her." Standing to leave the room, she paused before tossing a final comment at my tormentor; "However, I think I've spent more than enough time getting to know you."

Sweeping out of the room with confidence that I had spent months dreaming of possessing, she grabbed my hand firmly with a theatrical wink and dragged me down the hallway at breakneck speed while giggling.