Greeting Insanity

chapter sixteen

The beige door shut softly behind her, only a wisp of air signaling the action. A tall woman sat in the room, behind a white desk, clashing with the brown walls. The lady wore an all-white pantsuit, her hair pulled into a tight bun, face clean of makeup. She looked quite young, barely in her twenties.

"Reyna, come, sit." Reyna wasn't used to the kind, gentle tone that commanded her actions. Choosing to obey, the young girl sat. She insentiently twisted her finger around a short golden curl. The eleven-year old's brown eyes darted up to meet the lady's blue ones. She looked like Miss. Ellis, a previous foster mom, but the blue eyes were much lighter than Miss. Ellis's.

"Hi, my name is Nancy. I'm here to interview you for the HTA. You do know what that is don't you?" The young woman spoke, her smooth voice, tender. Reyna nodded, but did not speak, she had been hit for talking once. Mr. Austin hadn't liked when she defied him, and her pale face wore the punishment. However, she had heard of the HTA. Her latest foster parents, Mr. and Mrs. Jake had thrusted the pamphlet in her face, and returned her to her room.

For a split second, Reyna wondered why Nancy bothered calling it an interview. It wasn't as if she had applied. Not like she wanted to be there, sitting in the bland room. Questioned, no doubt. The Jakes set up the meeting. Most of her foster parents tried, repeatedly, to welcome her into their family, to make her happy, make her feel loved. She didn't want their love.

"The HTA stands for Helping the Abandoned. We are an institute that strides to help. I want to help you." Reyna nodded once more. She had read the pamphlet, she knew.

"I'm going to ask you some questions, and I want you to be completely honest with me. Alright?" Another nod.

"You are reported to be an orphan. What happened to your parents?" Reyna's head shot up at her bluntness. The soothing voice still there, but a hard foundation carried her words.

"I was...abandoned, as you people call it. Mom put me up for adoption when I was born. Dad left when mom got knocked up." If Nancy wanted to play blunt, Reyna would as well. Nancy raised a heavily trimmed brow, not offering an opinion.

"It also says that you haven't had a long-term home. It says you jump from foster home to foster home."

"What says?"

"Excuse me?" Nancy raised her other brow to join the first.

"You keep saying, it says, so what is this, it?"

"Your file Miss Evans."

"No one kept me because I don't want to be kept."

"Excuse me?" Reyna fought to tell her she was excused, a small smile struggling onto her face.

"None of the foster parents kept me because I didn't want a family. I don't need one." At this, Nancy got a concerned look on her face. Fake. Reyna could see the curiosity battling with her work ethic, trying to hold her poker face.

"Why do you feel as though you do not need a family, Miss Evans." This time, Reyna returned her gaze to the ground, hesitant.

"Miss Evans?" Reyna gulped, her eyes glued to the white tile floor.

"Miss Evans?" She could hear the struggle in Nancy's throat. The tightening of muscles. The fleeting effort to keep the melodic tone, to remain gentle.

"Miss- "

"I made my own family."

"Excuse me?" There it was again, the urge tell her she was excused.

"I made my own family. I write to them." Nancy got that look on her face. The one adults got, the look of worry. Worry mixed with fear. A mask. A self-reassurance that they knew what to do, knew how to handle the situation.

"What do they look like?" A basic question. An open-ended query that could lead to the unfolding of the young girl's secrets. Reyna laughed. A quiet sound, booming through the small, silent room.

"Well I imagine that if I had seen them in the flesh, I would need medical attention."

"Excuse me?" The same question, again. Didn't she have another one? This is her job, have some diversity.

"I write to them, my family. They understand me." The bite to her second sentence didn't go unnoticed by Nancy. The nurse nodded, signaling, pleading, her to continue.

"I write to my family, in my journal." The golden-haired girl gestured to her hand. Nancy only now taking notice of the light green pages, stapled together. A home-made diary.

"What are their names, honey?" There it was. Reyna wondered when the pet names would come in.

"Pain. I write to him because I don't feel him." Nancy's momentarily shocked face turned still again.

"Yes, I was told that you don't feel subtle pains. Such as papercuts, bruises, a prick of the finger. Is that right?" Reyna didn't answer, she already knew.

"I don't know why, though. Does my magical file say, why I don't?" Her head slowly rose to meet Nancy's gaze again. The stares clashing, battling, for dominance.

"Your brain processes things a little differently than other people, honey. It doesn't seem to want you to become aware if something small is hurting you." Reyna submitted, nodding, acting as if the answer satisfied her. It did not.

"You write to Pain, is that it or- "

"No. I write to them all."

"All?" The concerned look of worry and fear; trying to take control.

"Pain. Stars. Walls. Windows. Tears. Water. Ice. Heat. Starvation. Many more." At this, Nancy gave up on the fearful worrying look. She took on a new mask, one of furrowed eyebrows', blinking eyes, scribbling hands. She was writing quickly on the clipboard, rushing. Reyna couldn't fathom the possibility of someone reading the scrawl successfully. Nancy looked up to her again, down to the board, up to her, down, up, down, up, down, all while writing.

"I think we are done here, Miss Evans. Do you have a ride home?" Reyna stood, clasping her self-made notebook in her frail hand. Nancy didn't get the answer to her question, but her mind was too frazzled to be terribly worried about the young girl's transportation. Nancy stood from her tan chair, watching as Reyna opened the quiet beige door once again. Stopping at the threshold, Reyna turned to look over her shoulder, her gawk traveling over Nancy's white attire.

"I hate white." With that, the young girl slipped away. The silent door shutting behind her.