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Staring at the soft cream walls of the emergency room of Children's Hospital, I hear a voice calling me, "Ursula, Ursula. Can you hear me?" Blinking my eyes to refocus my vision and shaking my head, I turn and stare blankly at the physician next to me. They are gently nudging my arm, trying to get me to respond. Looking away, tears fill my eyes as I hear my mom outside, talking to a different doctor, "She's not a bad kid. She really isn't. She's just had some problems lately." My mom peeks her head inside the room and smiles weakly at me. She knows that I'm really doped up right now and that's the only reason that I'm as calm. Especially since I'm sitting in a hospital room, which I detest to no end.
Rubbing my arms, I wince and look down at the red cuts neatly made up and down my arms like railroad tracks. The doctors haven't gotten around to bandaging them up yet, but I know they will because they do every other time I'm in here. This is the third time I've been admitted into the hospital for my cutting, which has become more of a problem now than it ever was before. It's always the same questions, "Why do you do it? Were you trying to kill yourself? What did you use?" And so on. I tire of the endless barrage of questions that accompany me whenever I'm sent to psychiatrists or counselors. It's become so much easier to just block everyone out and live in my own world; a world where there is no more suffering and no more cruel people. A place where I can be safe from myself and everyone else.
After carefully bandaging my arms up, the nurse leads me up to the 7th floor where we go through two locked doors before I realize where I'm being taken. Spinning around, I make a mad dash for the door in hope that I can catch it before the latch slides into place, but the nurse and two other assistants catch me by the arms. Grimacing in pain from the cuts, I still twist and turn, trying to break free. "Now, now," she coaxes me, "it's not as bad as you think. Besides, your parents already signed the papers admitting you." I stop struggling as my eyes shift slowly towards her, "They already admitted me? Without even talking to me?" I demand, trying to keep my cool but still paranoid from the drugs I've taken. Like usual, the terrible shakes I get start up just as the sedative I was given earlier sets in at the same time. Giving in, I let them lead me to the 24-hour surveillance room where I'll spend the night. There's a camera built into the ceiling so that the night crew can keep an eye on me all night long. Falling onto the cot, I curl up in the fetal position and drift into a dreamless slumber.
There's always the extreme confusion upon waking up in a strange place. It's like getting rip-roaring drunk and waking up in a pool of your own vomit in someone's house that you've never met before. Even that isn't nearly bad as waking up, thinking you're still dreaming and realizing that it's all real. Of course, the first thing on my mind is a cigarette as I stumble out of the bed, a little shaky from all the drugs I've taken and the one's pumped into my system in the past 24 hours. Pushing open the door, I slam my eyes shut and pull my pair over my face at the harsh glare of the neon lights
in the hallway. "Well, look who decided to wake up," jokes the nurse at the nurse station. Pulling my long black hair out of my face, I demand, "Where the hell am I?" Chuckling, the nurse replies, "You really don't remember last night? Me dragging you in there, and plopping you down on the bed. You were shivering so bad I though t you were freezing." Rubbing my head, I groan, "Oh man, I need a cancer stick like nothing else."
"I'm afraid to say that it's impossible to smoke while you're in ere. You should know that by now considering the fact that you've been in here what, how many times is it now? Three? Four?" The nurse rambled. Swinging my head towards her and glaring at her, I see Dr. Krauss striding down the hallway towards me with a particularly evil smile that spreads across his face. "Well, well. Thought you weren't coming hack this time." He taunted me, trying to make me look stupid just because he was right and I was wrong. He's such an egotistical asshole. Just because he has a degree in whatever it is he does besides bugging his patients to death, doesn't mean that he has the right to go around as if he's king. "Yeah," I reply, "I'm back just for you." The sarcasm in my voice drips off every syllable I utter.
Dr. Krauss scribbles something on a couple of papers that he's been filling out. Handing them to the nurse, he simply states, "Make sure you get these filled as soon as possible so she can start taking them." In case you've never heard doctors speak in their cryptic codes, that means I' going to be put on medication that's probably going to sedate me so bad that I won't be able to function nearly as well as I'd like. Medication dulls your senses, especially your mind, which for me is a major downfall since I'm always using my mind to figure things out. Nevertheless, I know better than to try to dispute this right now because there's no way I'm going to win, especially against a nurse and a doctor. They'll definitely gang up on me and suppress any hopes of not taking medicine.
When you're a teenager, there's no way you're going to get any recognition for anything you do or any good idea you have. This would give you power over the adults of today's world and being above an adult is simply unacceptable. Therefore, I figure that in this situation, it is best to bite my tongue. Bowing my head in defeat, I hear Dr. Krauss say, "Carrol, why don't you take Ursula down to the cafeteria and get her something to eat. This can be a sort of test tot see if she's going to be cooperative this time. Unlike last time where we had to send the security guards after her." Not looking up, I hear him turn and strut back down the hall, probably feeling rather triumphant about the fact that he won this round. Silently, I vow to myself, "You might have won this time but next time it won't end up your way."
Nurse Carrol grabs her clipboard and keys, takes me by the arm and leads me to the doors leading out of the psychiatric ward. These doors mean freedom to anyone who's ever been in there, even just for visiting someone who's a patient. I force myself to not think about running away, because it didn't work last time and all it got me was a day in the seclusion room. That room is horrid. It's everything they have in those horror movies; padded walls and that little window where people can look in and ogle you. Shuddering at the thought of that, Carrol asks me if I need a jacket, and I barely hear her. Wrapped up in a world of my own, I flash back to that horrible day, remembering every tiny detail that is forever branded into my mind, torturing me.
Nurse Donna slides the key into the lock and turns it, unlocking the second door leading out of the psychiatric ward. Pushing open the door, she pulls it shut behind her, making sure it latches. Leading me down to the cafeteria, she stays close by my side the entire way. Passing someone she knows, she turns her back on me for an instant and I take off down the corridor. "Stop her!" she yells and running to the nearest nurse station, I hear her call security as I'm rounding the corner. Pushing through countless crowds of people yelling at me to stop running, I block out the voices, hearing only my inside voice telling me, "Faster, faster. Gotta make it to the entrance." Slowing down to a slight trot upon entering the lobby, I casually blend into a group of people heading for the exit.
Upon walking out the doors, I start up jogging towards the road, seeing my freedom looming before me. My image is shattered when two burly security guards come from the side and grab me by the arms. Wrenching my arms out of their grasps, I take off at a full sprint but am stopped once again by more guards. Seizing my arms yet again, they manage to clamp a pair of handcuffs on my wrists. I can see Nurse Donna appearing at the entrance and jogging towards us. "No!" I scream, twisting and turning in every direction possible, "Don't take me back in there! Please!" Bystanders turn to watch the scene as I'm wrestled to the ground and another set of handcuffs is put on my upper arms, binding my in place. One guard has his knee in the middle of my back, holding my down as another handcuffs my ankles together. It takes 6 guards altogether to hold me still long enough for Nurse Donna to give me a shot that will calm me down.
They make a path and carry me back inside, up to the ward once again. Upon getting a glimpse of the outer door, I squirm even more pleading, "Don't make me go back in there. You don't know how bad it is." My pleas fall upon deaf ears as they ignore me and hold me even tighter as I struggle to no avail. Once inside the ward, they undo the handcuffs long enough to get me in the restraints. The shot Nurse Donna gave me begins to take effect, as I get more and more sluggish. Rolling me into the seclusion room, they pull the door shut behind them and wait until I cool down. After screaming until my throat is raw, I begin to quiet down only because I know that the people on the outside can barely hear me.
A half hour passes before I hear the click of the door being opened as Nurse Donna enters to make sure the restraints aren't cutting off the circulation in my limbs. She notices that they are a little too tight but before loosening them she asks me, "If I try and loosen these up for you, will you not make a big fuss? Because if you do, they go back to being tight again and then you'll be in here for even longer." The shot is interacting with the cocaine I snorted before I was admitted and I don't have the energy to even nod my head. "Suit yourself," she says, shrugging her shoulders, "you'll just be in here longer you know."
Closing my eyes, I try and relax as much as is possible and think to myself, "Now what did you do that for? You are so stupid." How could I have been so dumb to think that trying to escape would do me any good? I know from seeing other people try what happens when you are caught, because everyone is caught in the end and then brought right back. An hour passes before I'm checked on again. By now, I'm so drugged that there's no way possible I could muster any energy to fight them even if I wanted to. The straps are taken off and the orderlies step back, waiting for me to move, but I don't. My muscles hurt so bad that I don't even want to try to stand up or even move. "Ursula," Nurse Donna calls, "Ursula, can you hear me? She's out. We'd better get her back to her room." One of the male orderlies picks me up and carries me to my room where Nurse Donna directs him to lay me on the bed. I feel someone pull a cover over me as I drift away once again.
"Ursula! Ursula!" I hear as someone shakes my arm. Opening my eyes, I realize that I've been just standing next to Nurse Carrol as she holds the door open for me. "Are you ok?" She asks, peering closely at me. "Yea, I'm fine. Just remembering." I reply. She just nods at me with a worried expression on her face. Walking through the door, I stay close to her side, not even giving the suggestion that I'm going to take off. At the cafeteria, I pick out an apple and a bottle of juice. "Is that all you're going to eat?" She asks me, raising an eyebrow. "Yea, what's wrong with it?" She shakes here head and orders mashed potatoes and a grilled cheese sandwich. I know she's already eaten so I figure she's going to try to force me into eating more.
Walking back to one of the tables at the edge of the cafeteria, we take a seat. She stares at me intensely, like she' trying to figure me out as I slowly take tiny bites off my apple and sips from my drink. "Aren't you going to eat anything else besides that?" she ponders, wrinkling her eyebrows in a trademark concerned look. "I'm not that hungry really," I reply, hoping that she'll buy my excuse. "Well, she begins, "I'll just have to report this to Dr. Krauss. You don't want to be put back on tubes again, do you?" Glancing away, trying to avoid her gaze, I don't answer but instead nibble again at my apple.
Discarding all the extra wastes into the garbage can, we head back upstairs. I had tried to prolong going back into that dreaded place but that would require me to eat and I just wasn't hungry right now. The reasoning behind it might be that I hadn't had a cigarette all day long and that's normally what I have right before every meal. Without one, I'm normally not hungry, but I know that they're going to take it as an act of rebellion instead of it being a circumstance that I can't seem to get around. An act of rebellion? That always outrages me because starving myself is supposed to be a punishment for them. Starving myself hurts me in the end, not them. I've learned something out of all the counseling sessions I've been to.
All this runs through my mind as we enter the ward and I hear the lock of those doors, like a cell being shut in a prison. This place is a prison to me that always seems to get the best of me. Reporting back to the nurse station, I hear Nurse Carrol inside talking to Dr. Krauss, "She barely ate a thing, but she didn't try anything either. I don't know what to think of her, she's just so different that the usuals." A smile tingles at the sides of my mouth, begging to break forth at the sound of this. Being like e everyone else has always been a curse on society. I pride myself on being different from everyone else, but for the most part, I don't have to go out of my way to be like it either.
Dr. Krauss sticks his head out of the doorway before coming around the corner, "Follow me, please." I snort at this, "So you're actually going to be polite for the first time in your life? I'm truly amazed." She shoots me a dirty look and I just smile right on back. I know my sarcasm can really get to people at times and I don't mind using it if it's going to set off one of the doctors. They're supposed to be so calm and collected but really it's quite simple to get them going. Holding the door open for me to his office, I walk in and plop down in my usual chair. I swear that chair must have an imprint from how I sit in it all the time. Through all the session with just him and the ones with my 'rents. Not to mention when all the social workers, some of the staff and me get together in that office to discuss discharge terms.
However, I digress yet again from the matter at hand. I have two options walking into his office right now. I can take what he has to say and use it to better myself or I can pay him no mind and pick at my fingernails. Unlike every other time, he doesn't start with his usual, which is to lie out a plan for me to go home. He folds his hands on the desk and I realize he's never done this before as he tells me, "Ursula, I'm really sorry to tell you that your parents won't be coming in this time for sessions."
An invisible hand grips my stomach as I casually remark, "So I don't have to negotiate how I'm going to behave this time?"
He shakes his head, "That's not exactly what I meant."
"Then what do you mean," I demand, my voice rising.
"Just stay calm, it's not as bad as you think. They're not going to be picking you up either because they signed papers giving the state custody of you." His words shock me and I start gasping for air. "Oh no," I think, "Not another anxiety attack. Calm down, Ursula, breathe."
A clamp is put on my heart as I hear this and my lungs tighten to the point where I swear I'm going to suffocate if I don't get myself under control. Slowing my breathing, I gradually calm to the point where I can look up again. Dr. Krauss is staring at me, "Are you going to be ok?" he asks, his hand wavering above the phone. "Yea, just give me a minute." I reply, my hands on my knees, leaning forward. Time ticks by slowly with the only sound being the rasping of my breathing. "Well," he starts to say, "There's a number of options here. One option being that you are put into a residential place." Seeing the panic in my eyes, he continues, "not that it's the only choice. Probably the best choice in your situation would be a foster home."
My head cradled in my hands, I rub my forehead, looking up, "Can I talk to my worker about this? I don't want to jump into this if it's not going to be something I can do. I mean, living with strangers? I don't know." Shaking my head at this, he picks up the phone and calls my social worker, "Yea, Gavin? This is Krauss." Isn't it always strange how some doctors will refer to others by their last name? The thought crosses my mind and I mull over it, trying to think about anything else besides what is happening. Hanging up the phone he turns to me, "Gavin will be here in a minute or so. You can talk in here while I make my rounds." Pausing for a moment, he continues, "I really hope things work out for you this time. You shouldn't be spending so much of your life in here, it just isn't right for someone as young as you." Having to make a joke out of it, he adds, "Plus, I'm really getting tired of seeing you around here." I laugh at this and return the compliment, "It's not like I want to see you that much either." We both laugh, glad to shatter the tense atmosphere.
Gavin knocks on the door and turning, I smile. "Well, at least you have a smile on your face now," he comments, "I could hear the laughter all the way down the hall. Did I miss something?" he asks. Shaking my head, I just giggle. Dr. Krauss scoots out the door, leaving Gavin with the dirty business of taking me through my options. Sitting down in the chair adjacent to me, he puts his hands on his knees, gently punches my shoulder saying, "So, how are you doing?" The smile melting from my face, I cast my gaze downward, "I could be worse." Glancing up, he rubs my shoulder, "It'll be ok. You've made it this far so who's to say you can't overcome another obstacle?" Nodding my head gently, the tears swell in my eyes, streaking down my face. "I just don't know how I got here, that's all." I utter, burying my head in my arms. I sob quietly into my arms, desperately trying to put together in my head what would have possibly gone wrong that made me like this. In the end, I know there's no answer to my questions and there probably never will be. Gavin lets me cry for a while, gently rubbing my back.
Collecting my composure, I ask him, "Where will I go?" My eyes plead for a sign that it's going to be ok. He answers me; "We've managed to find you a place already. It's a little father out than I think you would like but it's a place. Plus, the people are really nice, I talked to them myself." All I can do is nod at the news. My whole life is changing right before my eyes and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. He clears his throat, "I need to know if you really want to go down this path. There are other options." Pushing myself up so I am sitting up I wonder aloud, "But will it be the best thing for me?" Looking over at him, he responds, "I think this is the best thing and I don't know how long it would take otherwise to get you out of here. Do you want me to make this happen?" All I can do is nod as the tears stream down my face.
It takes several weeks for the placement to be made and the day comes when the county worker, Betty, comes to take me. Gavin, who was my worker throughout all the times at the hospital, is there to see me off. "Drop me a line sometime and let me know how things are going," he tells me, giving me a hug. Saying my last goodbyes to al the staff that I've grown closer to over the passing weeks, I hoist my bag over my shoulder and leave the ward for the last time.
Walking out into the bright summer sun, I slide my shades off my face and bask in its warmth. I haven't been out in the sun in over three weeks and it's like being born again. Always taking the sun as an advantage before, now I realize what a gift it truly is. Betty chuckles, pulling my along, "There will be plenty of sunshine in the car." How long had it been since I had even ridden in a car. It seems like ages since I've even had contact with the outside world. I went in indifferent to the little things and come out reveling in everything. Being locked up inside for weeks at a time will have that kind of impact on you. Climbing into the car, I anxiously tap my foot. "Calm down, girl," Betty scolds me, "it's like you haven't been outside in forever." Looking over at her, I respond, "Well, I haven't."
We drive and drive for what seems like eternity and I drift off somewhere along the way. Hitting a rut in the road, my eyes flutter open. Pulling my head up, I look out the window and see cornfield after cornfield, "Where the hell are we?" Betty doesn't hear me at first over the radio. Turning down the dial I repeat, "Where are we?" She smiles, "We're almost there, don't you fret." Sure enough, we pull off the main road into a gravel driveway. Stepping out of the car, I turn and marvel at how beautiful it is out in the country. Once again, the tears flow freely down my upturned face. "What's wrong?" Betty asks.
Shaking my head, I take in the fresh country air. Moving out here seems like a completely new beginning where I can start all over again. Anything that is in my past is in my past. The people out here will know nothing about me and I don't have to tell them anything. Here is the place where I'll do the right things. Where I won't mess up, I vow to myself. Picking up my bag, I walk with Betty to my new beginning.
