Chapter Two

Morning couldn't come soon enough. I hadn't been able to get back to sleep since my ghost had paid me an uninvited visit. Instead, I had spent the night curled in a ball, praying to God that I would never have to hear that creepy voice ever again.

At 7:00 AM Debbie, the gruff morning ward nurse, stopped by my room to do checks. My body felt tired all over and I was having trouble moving and stretching my muscles. I didn't even pop my head up to show her I was awake, I just lay in bed lifelessly, more depressed than ever.

I was crazy. I couldn't run from the truth anymore. My brain was malfunctioning, attempting to create something from nothing. I deserved to be locked up. There was nothing that could fix this problem, except perhaps for death. The outcome was grim no matter what mind-numbing drugs they gave me. All was lost. I was certain that there was no life left for me to live.

Debbie came into my room several more times at 15 minute intervals, and finally told me that if I wouldn't get out of bed she would have to write me up. She had an intractable zeal for discipline and I knew her words were more than a warning.

Begrudgingly I dressed in my day scrubs, all the while hoping that Debbie would let me go to the bathroom in peace.

My room was annoying plain and white, austere and functional beyond belief. Against the wall in the center sat a bed; one white sheet, one blue wool blanket, and one pillow were the only bedclothes provided. Against the wall facing the door was a large window to the outside world that I hated because it reminded me of my friends and family and everything else beyond the confines of my prison. I always kept the blinds fully closed so no hope could eek its way in uninvited.

Sitting near the glass portal of lost dreams was a chest with a single drawer and a white plastic folding chair, none of which were comfortable or pleasing to the eye.

There was a small bathroom inside of the larger room, with a toilet and sink. There was a shower faucet, but no curtain, so every time I bathed, water would shoot all over the floor of the bathroom and drench anything I had forgotten to put away. It was the worst thing about the room. I never knew how luxurious shower curtains were until I came to the hospital.

Because I was on 1 to 1 monitoring, Debbie usually demanded to be in the bathroom with me while I went. It was supremely embarrassing and she did nothing to ameliorate the situation, watching me with her cruel blue eyes like a hawk the entire time. I usually tried to stare at my feet so I wouldn't catch her creepy gaze.

It was bad enough having someone camp out side the door whenever I was inside the room. They tell me the 1 to 1 is for my own protection. I think that's bullshit. I knew they were treating me differently from the others based purely off what I had been accused of. The only other patient on 1 to 1 was constantly threatening to kill herself and found the monitoring a pleasant way to get extra attention. No one on the staff but Debbie liked the invasiveness of 1 to 1, and shirked the responsibility whenever possible resulting in a lot of warnings and little action.

I decided to skip going to the bathroom for as long as possible and instead ventured out into the lobby area where the other patients were eating breakfast together at plastic tables in the center of the room. Debbie finally left me alone now that I was in the care of ten pairs of trained eyes.

The boy with the scar was sitting at one of the tables picking at his food suspiciously while Stephanie and Adele chattered at him, no doubt filling him on the personal histories of every patient.

I sighed and walked toward the food cart that brought our breakfasts up from the cafeteria we were not aloud to visit. I gave the cart bearer my name and was shocked when he handed me a plate with an unfamiliar slab of meat covered in thick gravy. I had forgotten to order breakfast last night before I went to bed and was now stuck with the cheapest entrée on the menu, Salisbury steak and gravy surprise.

Lifelessly I snatched the tray and took it to the only empty table. As I picked at the fruit jello with my spork, I heard Stephanie gesturing toward me and giggling. I sighed forcefully shoved the tray out of reach. I could feel tears of frustration welling up in my eyes. I folded my arms across my chest and silently told myself to breathe slowly. Across the room Stephanie was regaling the boy with my life story, including my criminal insanity.

"Stay away from Heloise. She is seriously deranged. We're all afraid of her. I'm going to ask my father if he can't pull some strings and get her moved to the sanitarium in Bellford."

I snorted loudly but didn't turn around to face her. The petty bitch wasn't worth my attention.

"Thanks for the warning, but I'm certainly not afraid of her," the boy with the scar bragged, "She's so tiny. What's she going to do, bite me?"

Maybe I will, and see how you like it, I thought brusquely. Clearly everyone my age was a fucking idiot. This boy had just confirmed everything I already knew about the teenage race. Paradoxically, I happened to be the only sane crazy-person on the ward.

"Well then go sit with her," Stephanie prodded flirtatiously, "I dare you."

"What are you going to give me if I do it?" the boy asked, cockiness transforming his voice into a low murmur.

"That depends, what do you want?" Stephanie answered, positively purring.

"What will you give me?"

Stephanie hesitated for a moment and then leaned over to whisper in the boy's ear.

Out of the corned of my eye I saw scar boy lean back and appraise Stephanie with amusement.

"No way," he snapped maliciously, "you might die of exhaustion on top of me. That's the last thing I need."

His comment apparently struck Stephanie speechless, as I heard nothing but a small gasp from Adele.

Just then a person popped down across from me, bringing me back to reality once again. It was scar boy.

He extended his hand.

"I'm Matt," he said, "I've heard a lot about you." He smiled, "only good things of course."

I met his intense gaze hesitantly. His eyes were pools of darkness, so empty and black that I had to look away almost immediately.

"Of course." I responded, throwing the bitches across the room a furtive glance.

"So Heloise, huh. Like that Barry Ryan song?"

I was shocked. No one my age had ever mentioned the song to me, although it was my namesake.

I appraised him carefully, then answered." Yeah. Except with a silent h. I think my mom was trying to be ethnic or something. I'm surprised you know Barry Ryan."

"Well, I know a lot of things, " he answered confidently, still staring straight into my downturned face. I felt the urge to match his intensity, but couldn't bear to go through with it.

"You haven't touched your delicious breakfast. What's the problem Louie? "

He smiled at me and I felt that I should answer him. I was powerless with those dark eyes burring into my brain.

"I'm a vegetarian," I answered.

Although it was a lie, it was still easier than explaining the truth, that I had bouts of projectile vomit every time I tried to eat meat. It seemed to be a new physical symptom of my craziness, one I'd rather forget.

"Noble of you," said Matt, "if you weren't lying."

I turned my widened eyes upward and stared at him. How could he know what I was thinking so clearly? Who was this Matt character?

He laughed at little at me, clearly taking in how shocked I was at his internal lie detector.

"Don't worry. I can't read minds or anything," he chuckled, "my dad is a CIA agent. He specializes in body language. I could teach you to read people, if you want?"

"Why are you here?" I asked, suddenly paranoid.

He didn't look surprised at my question, and his mouth twitch absently as he stared at me. He knew I wasn't asking about his crazy, his crimes, and his admission to the loony bin. I wanted to know why he would talk to such an ugly psychopath like me.

"I'm not afraid of you Louie. I'm sure there is a good explanation. Maybe sometime you'll tell me?"

The loudspeaker turned on with a static buzz and Diane announced that morning group would be starting momentarily.

The boy was dressed in scrubs like everyone else, but had gotten away with a watch, which he glanced at uneasily. An indecipherable emotion flashed momentarily cross his scarred face.

"Better go trash this. I'll save you a seat in group." Matt smiled brightly and got up from the table, walking toward the trash bin hurriedly.

My conversation with Matt left me confused and filled with longing for human contact. For a moment I sat paralyzed, not a thought crossing my mind.

Out of nothing I heard a voice. I looked around to see who was trying to talk to me. Then I realized with horror. There was no one. There was nothing but white mist surrounding me. No table, no staff, no ward, just blank nothingness. A scream caught in my throat. I tried to call for help, but my vocal chords were paralyzed.

"You must kill him Heloise," my ghost commanded, "if you don't, I will."