“Very well. We’ve scheduled discharge in four days, so we’ll shoot for Tuesday afternoon. Since it’s Friday, things are a little slow over the weekend with therapists’ availability. She’ll get limited therapy sessions over the weekend, but we think therapy on Monday and Tuesday will be beneficial. We want to make certain she’s ready to go home.”
You feel the tears come and you can’t control them. You wonder if anyone understands that you’ve got an eating disorder, that you don’t belong here, and you’re not in danger of killing yourself. You look around the room and you see that there might be two people who do understand that you being here is a huge mistake—Damian and Shayna. The two of them look shocked to hear that you’ll be staying another four days.
“Are you sure that’s necessary? Another four days?” Shayna asks. “She’s getting all the therapy she needs at Healthy Foundations.”
Dr. Winthrop nods curtly. “We’re sure, we’re very sure. It’s best that she stays here under our supervision. The good news is we have a flexible visitors’ schedule over the weekend. You’ll be able to spend more time with your parents than just an hour each night.”
You turn to your mom and dad, tears streaming down your face. “Mom, Dad? Do I have to stay?”
Your mom and dad look at each other and then your mom says, “We were hoping you could come home too, but if Dr. Winthrop thinks you should stay for a few more days then you probably should.”
You have never felt so defeated in all your life.
55
After the meeting, Dr. Winthrop suggests you go to your room until therapy so that you can calm down. She feels a rest will do you some good.
In your room, you slide your hand under the thin mattress where you put Ben’s letter. You want to read his words; they’ll reassure you someone cares for you, that someone wants you. But when you reach for the letter, you can’t feel it. You thought you had shoved it up high, but maybe it’s farther down, so you move your hands lower. When you can’t feel the crisp paper, you get on your knees on the hard floor and lift the mattress, getting a bit frenzied.
It’s not there.
You lie flat on the floor and scan under the bed.
Nothing.
Your heart is pumping wildly and you begin to tear the room apart, pulling your pillowcase off the pillow, removing the sheets, yanking the scratchy blanket all the way down to the floor. You’re crying and yelling, “It’s not here! It’s not here!”
You’re hysterical.
It’s all you have of Ben.
You open the dresser drawers, then bang them shut, and then tear the other bed apart—Savara’s bed—knowing your letter is not going to be there either, because you know, you know, the letter was under your mattress and now it’s not in your room.
Minutes later you sense a presence in the doorway.
Ken.
You know then that he’s taken your letter.
“You looking for something?” he sneers.
You wipe your nose and push your hair away from your splotchy face.
“You give it back, you asshole.”
He turns from the doorway and begins to walk away. Before you know what you’re doing, you slam your body into his and beat your fists into his back. You scream at him, “Give it back! Give it back!” and, “You’re an asshole and a thief! You thief!” You pound at his flesh and he turns toward you like he’s going to hit you and the next thing you know you’ve knocked Ken’s glasses from his face and you scratch at him with all the energy you have. Your fingernails slide against his cheek and he lets out a howl.
Two guards come and grab your arms to pull you away from Ken.
“The chick’s crazy,” Ken yells, grabbing his face. “She freaking attacked me!”
“He’s a thief! He stole my letter! He went into my room and went through my things!” you yell.
Dr. Winthrop and Damian come around the corner to see what all the commotion is and when Dr. Winthrop sees your room has been ransacked, she asks, “What’s going on?” She looks at you and Ken, and sees that Ken has a bloody scratch on his face.
“She attacked me!” Ken accuses.
“He went through my room!” you say.
“Did you do that to her room?” Dr. Winthrop asks Ken.
“No, I just stopped by to see if she wanted to play cards or checkers. I was bored. And she freaked out on me!”
“You’re a liar!” you yell.
“Who did this to your room?” Dr. Winthrop asks you.
You’re silent.
“Who did it?” she asks again.
“I did,” you say. “I was looking for a letter of mine.”
“Did you do that to his face?” Dr. Winthrop asks you.
You’re silent.
“Are you not going to speak?” she asks.
You remain silent. Ken smirks from the hallway.
Dr. Winthrop is fuming. “I warned you last time, did I not? And violence? We do not tolerate violence in here. Damian, take Ken to Janet to have those scratches looked at.”
Then Dr. Winthrop stares at you with hate in her eyes.
“You. Come with me.”
*
You’re in a room alone, with just a bed and a toilet in the far corner. Dr. Winthrop put you here so you can think about whether or not you want to tell her why you felt compelled to become so violent, when she has been “so very good to you. And you were so close to being discharged.”
The walls are white, the bedsheet is white. Besides the bed and the toilet there is nothing else in the room. You wonder if Winthrop will keep you here for the next four days. Or longer now? Your parents will kill Winthrop if they find out what she’s doing to you, because being locked up like this isn’t therapy, this is abuse. You’re emotionally exhausted and you can’t believe this is happening.
This is your fucked-up life.
And it all began because you can’t eat some foods.
All because of a stupid-ass monster who lives inside you.
All because someone sent an anonymous e-mail and you got sent to the Crazy House.
You have no idea what time it is but Winthrop locked you up around three-thirty. Someone brought you a snack but of course you don’t eat it because you have an eating disorder but they don’t get that because they think you are suicidal.
You’re on the bed staring at the ceiling when there is a quick tap on the door and it opens. It’s Winthrop. She enters the room and stares down at you.
“Well?” she asks.
When you don’t say anything, she continues. “I just spoke to Ken at dinner and he says that he did nothing to provoke you.”
“He’s at dinner? He’s not locked up? Why am I in here but he’s not in trouble?”
“You were the violent one. Did you see what you did to his face?”
“He’s a thief! He’s not in any trouble? He went through my room. He stole from me!”
“What did he take?”
“A letter from my boyfriend.”
“And that’s a reason to scratch his face up? Do you see now why we think you need to stay here? You have severe anger issues, you’re dangerous not only to yourself but to others as well. We were right to suggest you stay longer.”
You have no fight left in you so you close your eyes, signifying that you’re done with the conversation. She’s not going to listen to anything you have to say anyway. She’s been against you since you arrived and nothing’s going to change her mind.