30 Days In Rehab

Day 3: Wednesday

"Humpty needs drugs." I say to Dawson as I tap my foot. He chuckles, "you're asking me, a detective, to get you drugs?"

"Yes."

"Seriously?"

"Give Humpty drugs." I demand. He shakes his head, "nope, no can do."

"Why not?"

"I have a couple of reasons actually. Number one, I am an officer of the law; it literally goes against everything that has been installed in me. Number two, you've been here for three days and have done nothing but defy your counselors." I toss my head back and sigh, "Humpty is suffocating here. Humpty needs to relax."

"And drugs will make you relax?" He questions. I nod and in response he shakes his head, "can't do it Steph. Unless you can earn it."

"Earn it how?" I narrow my eyes at him, taking a bite of the slice of pizza that's in my hands. "You have to try with the program, meaning you have to actually speak with your counselor about how you feel and interact with other patients."

"Why in the hell should humpty do the second one?"

"Because you never know what you could learn from someone else." He points out. "The third thing you need to do is kick the Humpty persona. You aren't broken Steph, you're just not feeling well."

"But Humpty--"

"What is your name? Say pronouns, say your name." He interrupts, determination in his eyes. My mind draws blank, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Seeing this Dawson stands and walks in front of me. He grasps my hands, "how do you spell your name?"

My name is...

"H--"

"No, try again."

I blink at him a few times, trying to get my brain to work.

"Why?! Wh-- Humpty Dumpty, Humpty Dumpty! No one can save me, I'm still falling!" I cry harder as my mind slips away again, but this time there's no strings to try to tug it back together again.

"There are no strings to try and tug it back together again. Humpty cant--" "strings?" He questions, "The strings of your mind? You're telling me that you feel like  your mind unraveled?"

Boom, that's it.

If you pull on a string in certain kinds of stitching, the entire seam will come undone, and whatever it is will fall apart. Sometimes you can unravel an entire knitted sweater by pulling on a loose thread of yarn.​ My mind was like a sweater. After years of enduring different forms of abuse (strings being stretched to the max), my miscarriage paired with the death of Daniel pulled a string. My mind unraveled in a matter of seconds.

"Stephanie if you're imagining a string that pulls your mind together is gone; all you have to do is imagine another one, a stronger one."

"Another string?"

"Find a good memory and twist it, twirl it into a string."

A good memory? The day I first met Daniel.

A group of men catch my eye as they come out of a jeweler, each holding around two to three bags. I recognize one of the men as the one that was with Andrew the night we first met.

They all look at me and smile, looking amongst themselves as if they know a secret. I just raise an eyebrow and keep walking. I bite my lip as I pause in the middle of the hallway, thinking of where to go. "On the inside she's thinking, 'all this money, and I don't know what to spend it on'." A voice says sneaking up behind me making me jump. I turn around to see its Andrew's friend.