The Valley: A Memoir

The First 24 Hours

The room was painted, but barely.

The colors ranged somewhere between shades of depressing grey to a sterile whitish-brown. I set my jacket on the cotton sheet of the second bed and let it all slowly, depressingly sink in.

There's a knock at the door and a hunched man in a blue "VV" polo sticks his head in and looks at me.

"Group's about to start. How about you join us?" Group?

I nod blankly, following him out of room E401.

The Activity Room was lined with plastic chairs nailed to the floor. There was a long, stretched counter with cabinets underneath, and atop it sat clear boxes of writing utensils and a few piles of various coloring books, self-help magazines, and playing cards. Around 15 pairs of eyes darted up the moment we entered the room. I watched as a few particular ones scanned me up and down. I met their curious stares with unblinking, intimidative ones of my own. The polo man gestured to the chairs with an impatient smile. I wove my way through a few unfinished board games and sat down on one in the corner. I vaguely noticed how the second I settled into the cool plastic, my long legs rose and my hands wrapped about my knees insecurely. I peered around at the others speculatively and rose my chin a bit as each one averted their gaze from mine.

One of them raised a hand. The sleeve of her purple hoodie slipped down her arm a bit, exposing a plethora of small, shallow cuts. "Michael, can I go get some tissues?" She peered at him from behind a pair of small glasses. The girl looked to be about 15-16 years old; her face dotted with acne and long, blonde hair tied back and hanging loosely around her waist. Polo man, Michael, nodded and she rose and shuffled out. Michael went over to a large dry erase board hung on the wall and began drawing a bunch of black boxes, each labeled things like "self-worth", "self esteem", and "self-awareness". I sighed.

A long 30 minutes later, I found myself walking down the freezing corridor that connected my unit to the main building. A girl named Emma and I had been introduced and told we were roommates. The 14 year-old shuffled down the hallway a foot or so from me along with the others till we reached a door, and the two of us peered into what was supposed to be the cafeteria. There were tables and connected benches, a small salad bar, and two doorways that I assumed took us through the food line.

I'd learned that the adults that were constantly with us were called techs. Our tech for the afternoon was a tall, younger guy named Allen who stood by the door with a key in hand and mouthed numbers as he counted us off. He watched closely as all 17 of us filed in, some laughing and flirty; others with eyes that looked so sad there appeared to be a film over their pupils.

I followed the group toward the first doorway and waited my turn to grab a plastic tray and place a single apple on it. Emerging from the second doorway, I stared at the long table the rest of the members of my unit sat at. Suddenly a biracial-looking girl or guy, I couldn't tell which, waved me over. They had wild black hair cropped close to their head and big eyes that seemed to serve as more of a barrier than anything else. I arched a brow at her/him, but made my way over and sat down.

"Hey, I'm Destiney." She watched me carefully with a smile. "You look like a good friend of mine. What's your name?" I answered as she grabbed the glass of water on her tray and took a sip from it. "What're you in for?" I looked at the others around us who ate and chatted, and the ones around them who listened to our conversation with needless subtlety. I stifled the emotion of bewilderment at her more invasive question, and met her gaze. "I tried to kill myself on Friday." Her head bobbed up and down as if in confirmation. "Cutter?"

"Yeah."

She scans me.

"I figured."

To this I don't respond.