Day 1
The pink blanket Nurse Kelly gives me smells like old people and scratches against my dry skin.
“Can I get one of those soft ones instead?”
“We’re out A?a, sorry.” She pronounces my name like Aza and I bite my tongue to keep from correcting her.
With that she continues scribbling on paper. I never liked her anyway.
I wrap the last-resort blanket around my arms and start down the white washed halls of the hospital, my bare feet grazing the rough carpet with each step.
A group of men pass me.
“Muzzie,” one of them mutters. A crackle of laughter.
I think his name is Alex. Or maybe Alec. Whatever he’s called, he was a part of a Neo-Nazi group. That’s what got him in here, and already he’s apart of another “gang.” I thought that wasn’t the purpose of these kinds of places.
I tell myself I’m not offended, but it hurts a little in my chest. That’s what's been happening lately; I feel my emotions in my chest instead of my head. As if I need another reason to call myself screwed up.
Uniform walls and the kinds of low beds found in a nurse’s office await me in my room. Lying down on the one closest to me, I sink deep beneath the surface and plunge into the pinkish abyss of the scratchy blanket, anxious for sleep to arrive and to take me away from this mental hospital. Tonight I’ll either drift off to a comfortable, numb state of slumber, or I could come face to face with the nightmares.


Day 2

I’m in the cafeteria the next morning when my eyelids fall and the noise around me becomes almost touchable, as if I could take it and shape it into a tangible object, separating the racket from my consciousness.

I didn’t sleep last night.
“A?a,” Dr. Guupdah’s voice slices the noise into a million pieces and cuts right into my ears. My eyes feel like windows that haven’t been opened for years, as if they have been sealed shut from their overbearing surroundings only to be forced open once again.
Dr. Loud-Voice has the same reddish-brown skin tone as me, “raspberry chocolate,” my mom would always say. I feel my chest tighten when her face floats to the surface.
I’m so sleep deprived that it takes me a moment to realize I have been staring at the doctor.
“No staring!” my mom would say.
I stare at a lot of people in the mental hospital; it’s hard not to. I wonder what she would do to me if she were sitting at the breakfast table with me, eating loudly and scolding me for being a staring freak.
“Yeah?” I say to Dr. Guupdah.
“We think it’s time to talk about discharging you.” His voice is like molasses, thick and tart.
When the statement leaves his mouth there is a flutter in my chest and my dark eyes widen into circles of excitement. In the two months I’ve been here, I have seen girls of all levels of mental instability be discharged: the excitement, the hugs, the goodbyes. Jealousy of those lucky girls and the desire to leave has been rooted deep into my chest ever since my first day here.
“Well have you found someone willing to pick me up?” I voice the problem as soon as the thought pops into my head. No one in my family would come and get me. My parents don’t care if I spend the rest of my life here- even if it mean never seeing my face again.
But he has an answer waiting on the tip of his tongue.
“Your brother.”
Confusion. Excitement. Fear. The mixture of emotions churn in my stomach as I contemplate Dr. Guupdah’s answer.


Day 3
Sunlight strokes my face with its warm hand when I step into the outside world. Everything feels sharp; There are sharp-edged leaves on the trees surrounding me, sharp red car awaiting me, and sharp puffy clouds above me.

A tall man paces in front of the car, hands stuffed into his pockets and head bent over in concentration.
His face is just as I remember: warm maple syrup eyes with a pointed nose, sharp jaw, and jet-black hair askew. My insides lift up into my body as if I’m on a roller coaster. I have loved the feeling since the first time I went on a ride because along with it comes giggles and sun and a warm breeze whipping past my face.

“Sid!”

He is silent when we hug, and I grip on to his shirt to keep him from leaving this fabulous dream. Sid. My big brother. My best friend. He is here. After all this time.

Meanwhile Nurse Kelly, my escort, leaves without a word.

“I’ve missed you so much A?a.”

“I hope so,” my words bubble out through the tears on my cheeks.

With that he releases me and takes my suitcase while I marvel at the presence of his car- the idea seems silly after having one building substitute as my world for two long months.



The windows are rolled down all the way, bringing a tidal wave of cool wind on my face. I imagine it is cleansing me of the past months, stripping away the soot and grime to reveal my clean brown skin.
I see that Sid is smiling at me. I must look like a child, squinting at something as simple as the sun, and finding it to be the best thing I have ever seen.

He pulls off the highway to a Dairy Queen. Not my favorite of the many American fast food industries, but I couldn’t care less. All I can think of is the taste of ice cream on my tongue.
He orders a vanilla blizzard for himself and chocolate custard for me.
Before we even sit on the tacky red chairs, he states, “I have something important to tell you.”
“Lay it on me.”

His face is hard as a rock, though, despite my light tone. I don’t like that face on him- it’s the face my dad wears when he’s sad-drunk. I guess my brother inherited it.

“It happened while you were inside… I don’t even know where to begin…”

“Just spit it out, Sid!” I say playfully, but I hear an undertone of nervousness in my voice as well.
“A?a,” he says, putting his hand over mine. “Mom and Dad are dead.”

Day 4
I sit with a hard bench beneath me and the dark gray sky of dawn above me as I watch as the first people awake begin to walk to their morning classes on the campus of Sid’s college. It’s where he took us after picking me up from the hospital, and where I’m staying at the moment until campus security finds out. I tighten my fingers around the warm cardboard cup of coffee in my hands to keep them warm. .
Yesterday I found out my parents are dead. From a car accident, of all things; raging alcoholics since their thirties and they die in a car crash instead of from liver disease, which I think is horribly ironic.
They were verbally and physically abusive to Sid and me ever since we could remember. As I think back on our shared lives, I cannot remember the initial hit, yell, or scream, only a lifetime of pain and tears.
Sid told me on the ride to college that I not only have to forgive them, but forgive myself as well. My mind was too chaotic at the time to process his important words, but I can’t begin to fathom them now as I sit on this bench. What do I forgive myself for? Why should I even forgive them for what they did to us?
Just as his face comes to mind, Sid appears next to me. Before he can speak, I ask him what he meant yesterday about forgiveness.
“Our lives are too important to be weighed down by theirs. By forgiving them for what they did, we can move on with our lives and not be dragged down by our past.”
The truth of his words echo inside of me, and I finally feel as if a heavy weight is being lifted off my shoulders allowing my breath to come more easily. My brother has grown wise since I saw him last.
“But what about forgiving myself? What did I do?”
“Nothing, really. I just meant that you have to forgive yourself for not missing them as much as you think you should.”
This answer doesn’t echo within me; it shakes my ground and rumbles around inside my chest. Tears prick at my eyes as I realize that what he mentioned was true; I don’t miss them as much as I should- they’re my parents for God’s sake.
I collapse my head into my hands, the tears coming faster now.
“I’m a terrible person,” I mumble.
“No, no, no!” He exclaims, rubbing my back. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you- it’s okay. You have a perfectly valid reason, A?a. No one blames you.”
His words comfort my sorrow with a warm hand, and I wipe my hand under my eyes, feeling dramatic among the small crowd of people around us.
“You’re right. You’re always right,” I sigh, leaning my head against his shoulder.
We watch as the sun peaks its head over the distant trees, sending it’s yellow glow down upon the world, and I feel happy for the first time in a long time.
I’m going to be okay.