Hall 12

The Orphan (REVISED)

Being a mental patient is one thing. Being an orphan is a completely different thing. Being both at the same time? That's some kind of curse. I'm sure of it.

I've always said I was a serial killer in a past life, because this kind of shitty karma doesn't happen to the innocent. It certainly shouldn't happen to a girl who can't keep herself in line to begin with, who has no control over her impulse to swallow pills and skip meals and act on fleeting emotions. It shouldn't happen to the ones already struggling.

I'm reminded of such fact when we're at the Island ("we" meaning Smokey, Crack, Heroin, Blue, and I).

"Yeah, my mom sent me this giant basket full of shit from home," Crack says, munching on some grapes, "but the nurses threw it out. They said it was against policy, but I call bullshit."

"That's...destruction of property," I respond, angry but calm, "they should go to jail. That's seriously illegal."

"You a pig or some shit?" Heroin asks.

I shrug. "I was an honors kid, thought I was gonna study law. We can all see where that went."

"Who needs law anyway, amirite?" Blue adds, smiling and leaning back so the pegs of her chair are in the air. "Buncha buzzkills. 'Cept you, Shakey, you're cute enough to make up for the piggery. Don't know who made you think that being a cop would be fun though."

"Well...my foster dad is a cop. He said that law is what keeps us safe."

"What kind of shit is th-"

"Whoa, whoa," Blue interrupts, "foster dad?"

I nod. My brain is suddenly full of anxiety anxiety anxiety anxiety.

"Yeah."

Blue becomes interested, sitting down completely and looking intently at me. "What are you waiting for? Spill it, Shakey."

I can't move, can't respond, because the anxiety tells me to shut up but my mind tells me to keep going and when the two battle it out it's a lot like-

"Hell," Crack says, "I wouldn't wanna talk to a buncha psychos about my personal life. Don't feel like you gotta do shit for us, Shakes."

I don't have to. Well, to be honest, it wasn't up to me in the first place. Thankfully, after asking it with careful politeness, my anxiety gives me permission to do it as it slips back into the dark shadows in my mind.

"My mom and dad died when I was a baby, so I haven't had a real family like, ever. I've gone through foster homes and fake parents and all that fun shit instead," I explain, laughing to break the silence but the tension still feels overwhelming.

Smokey is the first to speak. "Who admitted you here then? King of the Orphans?"

"Foster dad. The fourth one. He said it was best if I wanted to get adopted."

"Fourth? Y'know, other people collect rocks, not dads," Blue says.

"I don't collect them, they just come. Then they leave. No one wants an psycho addict for a daughter. Not for long, at least."

Blue scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Why do you think we're all here, huh? Our parents decided they'd rather us fuck off to some bullshit healing institution than deal with us. Just 'cause you don't have parents doesn't mean you're some poor orphan. Shit, you're lucky. You never had people to love you in the first place! We all got abandoned, so suck it the fuck up."

She gets up from her chair, shoves it away, and walks out. I feel like crying, my hands shaking as I attempt to keep calm. Why did she get so...angry? Disappointed? Annoyed? Why do I bother? My entire body shuts down, going cold.

Heroin touches my arm gently. "She didn't mean it. Her parents didn't take her back when they dropped her of a few years back. She's just being pissy."

I nod while my throat begins closing and scoot away from the table. I start walking away, slowly at first, then jogging as I make my way to the restroom. Tears run hot down my cheeks and I don't bother to swipe them away. I barge into the girls restroom, turn the lock, drop to the floor, and scrunch into a ball in the corner.

I hyperventilate, clutching and clawing my knees like I'd pass out if I didn't. The air around me gets so tight and warm that my entire lungs feel like they're on fire, burning and burning and burning until my chest starts to murmur.

"Shakey?"
"Shakes? You in there?"
"Allison, it's Joslyn, please open the door."

My vision blacks. My hands go numb. The voices behind the door start to mute.

"Shakey, c'mon babe, you're scaring us-"

Be scared of her, Anxiety says, be scared of me.

"This ain't funny, open up!"

I lift up my sleeve and dig my nails down my wrist, watching as blood starts coming to the surface of the skin. I dig harder.

"Is she okay? Shakey, please-"

Skin gathers in clumps. I dig harder.

"Allison, it's Blue."

Keep going, Anxiety replies, she did this to you. I dig harder.

"I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean it."

I can barely hear her. I dig harder.

"I wish you would come out, love, please. We need you Allison."

My hands are slick with sticky red and the floor is slippery under my feet. My eyes slip shut and my heart slows. I dig harder.

"Please don't do this."

Before the darkness takes me, I rasp out the only words in mind.

"I'm so sorry."