Hall 12

Helmuth's Castle (REVISED)

Helmuth's Castle, we'll help you heal!

I stare at the front door, my bags hanging heavy in my arms as I hold them. Mr. Jones is waving out of the car window and I try my best to smile at him, but I only manage a worried look. His words echo in my head.

"I'm doing this to help you, Alli. You're sick. No one wants a sick child."

The castle is terrifying. It's gigantic, with gold window frames and doorknobs and god, I can't do this. I can't do this.

He's already gone by the time I try to walk away. There's no going back now, Allison.

"You're sick. You need help. Don't you want to do something right for a change?"

I take a deep breath and knock three times. A bigger woman with curly brown hair and dark lipstick quickly opens the door, a scowl on her small lips. "Allison Puckett?"

I nod, anxiety already burning hot in my chest. I feel like passing out.

"Follow me," the woman grunts.

I slip inside, following her to the service desk. She hands me a clear bag and takes mine from my hands, pointing to a group of teenagers in the main lobby. "Go stand with the rest of them. Mister Frank will show you around soon."

I fishmouth, feeling my heart race. "I can't...I can't be in big groups, it says it on my file, I can show you-"

"Do you have a brain?" She snaps, cutting me off. "I told you to stand with the rest of them. Go."

I back away, spluttering out a weak apology. I start walking toward the group of teens and I already feel dizzy.

Once I'm near them, one girl nudges me with her elbow. "Got a light?"

I pat my pockets. "N-No."

"Damn," she pulls out a cigarette from behind her ear before calling out to someone across the room. "Aye, Craig! Got a light?"

A boy with shaved hair and a Metallica T-shirt on tosses a lighter toward her. She lights the end of her square and throws it right back, hollering a "thank you".

"I'm Smokey. What's your name?" She asks me, blowing smoke through her nostrils.

"A-Allison. Allison Puckett. Are you sure you're allowed to do...that? It said no smoking on the sign-"

"It's my sixth time in here, babe. No stupid sign can stop me from enjoying my last cig before they take 'em away." Babe. My heart clenches. "What're you in here for anyway?"

I swallow dryly. "Anxiety. Depression. Drug abuse."

Smokey laughs, taking a quick drag. "How many days clean?"

"Twelve."

She shakes her head, patting my shoulder. "Good luck. Xanax, is that what you took?"

"That, and Valium."

Smokey whistles. "Good shit. I prefer pot, but a nice Val can get me high. Prescribed or illegal?"

"Prescribed."

"Overdose or did you get caught?"

"Overdose."

She pulls up her sleeve, and I catch a glimpse of two puffy, pink scars on her forearm. "They cut me open to drain my blood. OD'd on some shitty oxycontin."

"Why was it shitty?" I ask, watching as she stomps her cigarette on the wooden floor.

"'Cause it didn't kill me."

There's a loud bang from behind us and I jump, looking around only to see the mean woman standing next to a door, her fist red from where she hit it.

"Let's go, hussle hussle!" She demands, slamming her foot on the ground and pointing towards a hallway.

Smokey grabs my elbow, dragging me with her. "That's Nurse Kathy. She's a stupid bitch. Avoid her and your whole stay is gonna be a lot easier."

I process the information. "Where are we going?"

We turn the corner and the walls get seemingly whiter as we continue walking.

"Hall 12. Has about 36 rooms in it. It's for the psychos."

"I'm not...I'm not a psycho."

Smokey chuckles, stopping in front of a metal door that says "12".

"You are now."