Amelia opens her eyes slowly. She takes a slow breath in and releases it even slower. Her body aches like she's been working it to the bone for years. Her chest feels heavy as she keep breathing. She doesn't feel right. Something is wrong. She tilts her head to one side, then to the other. Her head feels like it weighs ten extra pounds. The lights are too bright and the bed is uncomfortable. She squints up at the ceiling. She doesn't like it, something is wrong. She doesn't feel like she fits in this room. She doesn't belong in this space. It's not right.
She inhales sharply as she realizes. She doesn't recognize the walls around her. She doesn't know where she is. She swivels her head back and forth, eyes wide, trying to find something familiar in the room encasing her. The walls are white, too white, the bed creaks underneath her. There's nothing besides her, the bed, and a rolling tray. She winces when she tries to sit up. She flops back down with a huff. It hurts. Tears start to well up in her eyes, but she pushes them back. Where is she?
She remembers the pain on her skin. She lifts her head and shakes away her tears. Running up and down her arms are cuts, criss crossing and stitching her together. She leans back and focuses on breathing. She knows there are more, running along her thighs and a few across her stomach. She's lost count of how many she's made. There are too many memories she would rather not remember. She rolls to her side and curls up on herself. She holds back her tears, now is not the time to cry. You're stronger than that. A voice that sounds like her father's echoes in her head. She sucks up her hurt and sits up again.
She places a hand to her increasing headache. She blinks a few more times. It's too bright. The room is too unfeeling. She swallows hard. Where is she? How did she get here? There's a door in front of her, and while part of her wants to run out and run away from the room with the too white walls, she knows she can't. She doesn't have the strength for that. It took so much to just sit up. There's no way she could handle running. Not now. Her stomach twists. It grumbles at her. When is the last time she ate? When is the last time she managed to keep her food down?
The door opens. She snaps her head up to the man now entering her room. She swallows again when the man smiles at her. Not a condescending smile, but a look that one would use with a frightened animal. That's what Amelia feels like. She's in a cage, and this is the hand that feeds her. Now she has to wonder if she'll bite it or not. The man has brown hair long enough to be tied into a small ponytail. His white uniform blends in with the bland walls around him. He's carrying a clipboard and a glass of water.
"Hello Miss Jones," He says quietly. He steps closer and Amelia flinches. He pauses. Amelia blinks to herself. She doesn't know why she had that reaction. The nurse holds out the water to her more, a peace offering. Amelia gulps and holds out her hands. The man steps forward again, slower this time, and places the glass in her hands. She drinks it down before he starts to talk.
"My name is Daniel Héderváry, I'm a psychology assistant here at Growing Tree Institute for Girls," He lowers the clipboard. Amelia gulps again. He's still smiling at her. She looks down to the blanket covering her legs. She doesn't want to answer him. She doesn't know what to say or how to react to this situation. Institute for girls? She raises a hand and grips at her hair. What is she doing here? The nurse steps forward again and she looks up to him. He gently sits at the edge of the bed to not sit on her.
"Can you tell me why you're here Amelia?" She just stares at him. Her father is yelling at her in her head. Telling her so many times that she has to be the best. She has to work harder and be the better one out of everyone else. Amelia tried. She tried so hard. After all that time practicing she managed to secure her spot as the head cheerleader, a symbol of pep and goody two shoes. She studied well into the night to be the smartest girl in school. Her grades are top notch and all the teachers love her. She's everyone's idol, because she's not a mean person either. She's just genuinely nice and good at what she does. She's dating the most popular boy in school.
Her father had been proud at first when she came home with her grades. A's reigned over her report cards. Then her father realized they were not all plused. How could she make valedictorian when her grades aren't the best they could be? Her father had yelled, telling her to study harder, but not until she became more flexible to become the flyer of the cheerleading drills. So she worked out to be the smallest and lightest one. He didn't care how she did It, as long as she did what she was told. He wanted her to be the center of attention, and be in the spotlight. Who cares how she got there, as long as she did.
Her mother stood by and watched, sometimes she would nod her head along with her father's ranting, but never said a word. Amelia wanted her father to be proud. He wouldn't be proud until she had perfect grades, the perfect boy-an absolute smart gentleman, the perfect body, and the perfect life. He degraded her. She could do better, she could be smarter, she could be prettier. Amelia tried. She really did. Everything had to be perfect.
She shakes her head at the question but lifts her arms out to show them to the ceiling. The nurse scribbles something quick on his clipboard. When had she started doing this to herself? Had it been after the first time she tried out for cheerleading? She had made it on the team, but the position hadn't been good enough. There's a line for that. Somewhere. Hidden underneath all the others. Her father would yell, but he never hit her. He tried to punish her by sending her to her room to work out, or study, or think about how she could do better next time. She knew she wouldn't learn that way.
She snuck downstairs late in the night and stole a knife from the kitchen. A typical steak knife with a jagged edge. They had plenty, no one would miss it. She locked her door. It started slow. She winced with the pain at first. The skin on the inside of her arm tugged with the groove on the knife. It took a lot of strength not to curl her arm up and stop. She tried hard not to tighten her muscle to not change the line near her elbow. The line had to be straight. It had to be a perfect mark on her imperfect skin.
"Miss Jones," She slowly raises her eyes to meet his. He's still smiling at her. Her fingers twitch. She can't stop the sick thought that he's judging her, waiting for her to slip on something, to see the imperfections.
"Is there anything you would like to say to me?" Amelia can feel her throat close up. There's no words that she can come up with. She tries. She opens her mouth and sucks in air, but no noise comes out. She exhales and looks away. She upset with herself. She should be able to talk. She should know the words to say and be strong enough to say them. She squeezes her eyes shut. How disappointing. She can't do it. She should be able to. A few more tears well up in her eyes. She wipes them away quickly. She's stronger than that.
She shakes her head. The nurse is quiet, then he sighs. He scribbles another something onto his clipboard and stands. Amelia watches as he goes to the door. Part of her wants to scream, the other part wants to die. He opens the door and gives her another smile before leaving her all alone in the room with white walls. It starts to spin in her vision. She looks around and spots a trash can. She leans over the edge of the bed and grabs it. She's throwing up before she realizes. It burns with no food in her stomach.
The bucket is in her lap. The smell of vomit doesn't affect her. She staring mindlessly at the wall in front of her. The door opens again and the nurse from before steps in. His smile slips off his face when he notices the smell, and consequently what she's done. He steps over right away and takes the bucket from her. Immediately there is a light in her eyes. She blinks at the flashlight shining in her face. The nurse sighs and hands her another glass of water. She takes it and just as eagerly drinks.
"Did you do that on purpose?" He asks softly. Amelia pauses. She doesn't know. She shakes her head slowly. Her fingers are dry. Or they are now. She grimaces. The nurse sighs again.
"Can you stand?" Amelia removes the blanket off her legs. She flips them off the side and touches them to the floor. Her favorite tennis shoes are on her feet. She runs her hands down her jeans, thankful for the fact they are covering more of her scars. She pushes off the bed and stands. Her head starts to swim from the lack of nutrients in her body. She grips at her head and sits once again. The nurse is kneeling in front of her, looking up at her with warm green eyes. Amelia takes a deep breath and stands again. She's determined to stand now. She has to be strong.
The nurse smiles when she can hold her ground. He walks towards the door and waves her on to follow. She grabs the blanket from the bed and follows him, thankful he doesn't mention it. She wraps it over her shoulders and hugs it tight. The t-shirt she's wearing does nothing to stop the cold from the hallway, or hide her scars. She pulls it tighter. He walks next to her as he leads away from the secluded room. All the walls are white and all the workers are wearing white. Some give her sympathetic smiles, other do not change their expression. They stop near a reception styled desk.
"This is where you can see your schedule." Amelia scowls. She didn't know she would get a schedule. She doesn't know anything. She looks up at the board taking up a chunk of the wall. It's a white board sectioned off into times of day with names at the side. She spots her name at the top. A breath leaves her. Now it's starting to feel real. She's really in a hospital. She's really there. He breathing sharpens and her head feels light. Immediately she's sat on the ground and pressed against the wall. The nurse is staring at her. He's saying something. Amelia can't focus. Her breathing is too hard. She looks at his lips. Whispering words she can't register. She recognizes the word he's mouthing. Breathe.
She takes a deep breath and holds it till she can't no longer. The air comes easier then. His voice is cutting through the fog in her head. She can hear him now, telling her to breathe slowly and lean against the wall fully. She listens, not taking her eyes off the green of his. They are constant and unwavering in their determination to get her to calm down. There's water from somewhere. She takes it carefully, afraid she'll drop it. The nurse sits beside her, not close enough to touch her, but close enough so she can feel him next to her.
"Do you get panic attacks often?" He asks her. There's another woman standing in front of her now. Amelia shakes her head. She's only ever had that feeling twice before. Once before a test, and once before going home. She found a way to mask the feeling with a smile. The overwhelming sense of 'this is real' hit her too hard. She couldn't handle it. She scolds herself. She should have been stronger than that. The woman in front of her kneels down now to be eye level.
"Miss Jones yes?" She says. Amelia thinks her voice sounds like summertime. She nods to her question. The woman smiles brightly then.
"My name is Carmen Carriedo, I'm the personal therapist here," She holds out her hand tentatively. Amelia stares at. It takes her a second to remember to shake it. She does so and the woman smiles wider. She stands back to her full height and the man beside her does the same. He holds down a hand to her and she takes it. She leans against the wall still, trying to keep her balance. Her head hurts.
When she feels up to walking again, they explain the board to her. It's a set schedule, the same thing everyday except for Saturday and Sunday. Amelia's eyes linger on the word therapy far longer than she would have liked. She's here and she should get over it. She sniffs hard and turns away from the board. The adults with her take that as a sign to move forward.
There are twists and turns and hallways and doors and far too many things for Amelia to keep track of. They point out rooms to her as they pass. There's an art room and the group therapy room. Amelia tries not to wince at the word. Dr Carriedo points out her office, where Amelia will go tomorrow. They pass by the cafeteria and show her where the small gym is located, but she is warned she can't go there without an adult and permission from her therapist. Again she tries not to wince at the word. Dr Carriedo bids them goodbye and walks back to her office.
"Tomorrow you will get into schedule, your roommate will help you out." Nurse Héderváry says. Amelia snaps her eyes to him. She didn't hear anything about a roommate. She looks back to her feet. She thought the room before would be her room. She doesn't know whether to be happy or sad that she will be with someone else. It's bad enough she has to figure out how to act with the doctors. Now she has to figure out how to act with the other people. The other patients. She gulps. She's a patient now.
Nurse Héderváry leads her down a hallway labeled 'young patient's wing 2', a further confirmation of what she now is. There's a loud yell from up ahead. The nurse beside her just sighs. Amelia slows down her steps when they come up on a recreational room. There's a few board games scattered about and a gaming system attached to a TV. From her peek in spot, she can see other girls, maybe around her age, sitting on a couch. Some have controllers in their hands. The screen is showing a video game.
"Julchen, what have I told you about yelling?" Nurse Héderváry scolds one of them. A girl on the couch with long white hair just flicks up a peace sign, not taking her eyes off the screen. She lets out another yell of sorts when an explosion happens on screen. The nurse sighs.
"Julchen please come meet your new roommate." That gets a reaction. The word pause is now flashing on the screen and several pairs of eyes are now looking their way. Amelia's eyes widen when she realizes they are looking at her. She turns her head away sharply. The girl with white hair gets up from the couch and struts over. The others start to whisper. Amelia now gets a good look at her 'new roommate.' Her hair is messy and has fly away's all over. Her eyes are violet, bordering on red. She has a scratch under her right eye. Julchen smirks wildly. She sticks out her hand for Amelia to shake. Amelia does so, after staring at it for a minute.
"So you're the new girl huh? Nice to meet ya, awesome to finally have a roommate too. Yikes I've been without one for a while. Stick with me and I'll show you the ropes," Julchen winks and heads back to her spot on the couch. Amelia blinks into the room. All the girls are wearing some sort of grey clothing. There are five of them.
Nurse Héderváry waves her on. She follows him to a room near the end of the hall. He opens the door and ushers her inside. It's walls are white too. The right side of the room has a messy bed and a few clothing items on top of it. Amelia turns to the left and sits on the perfectly made bed. The nurse smiles at her and walks away, leaving the door open for her to go to the recreational room. Amelia doesn't. She doesn't know what to do. Part of her wants to be social, to go over to the others and talk and pretend to be happy and go lucky, pretend she doesn't belong there. The other part wants to be mean, be rude and be all the things her father told her not to be. She spends so long debating that her decision is made for her.
"Yo hey girl, so since you're new here and all, Nurse Héd said we could both eat in here today, which is cool, cause no one really gets to eat in their rooms." Julchen comes sweeping in with two trays in her hands. Her smirk is a mile wide. Amelia blinks at one of the trays when Julchen hands it to her. She flickers her gaze from the food to the expression of Julchen's face.
"It ain't gunna bite ya," Julchen snickers. Amelia finally gets her motor controls working. She takes the tray. There's an apple and a carton of milk. There's a plastic fork atop a mound of spaghetti. Amelia wiggles back on her bed and places the tray on her lap. She goes for the apple. Julchen is tearing into her food, not caring that sauce is dribbling down her chin. Amelia doesn't look away, until Julchen locks eyes with her. Amelia jumps a little at being caught and bites her apple. Julchen points her fork at her.
"What you here for anyway?"Amelia pauses in her chewing. She puts the apple back on the tray. How is she supposed to answer this? Many others will ask. Before she just showed her scars as explanation to the nurse. She repositions the blanket around her to hide the scars better. Swallowing her apple bite proves more difficult than she thought. She opens her mouth and inhales, and no words come out. They get caught in her throat once more. She releases the air and turns her head to the side. There's no way for her to answer that. Not yet. Not when she has no idea what she's doing.
"Oooookay, well hey you don't have tell me now. I get it," Julchen shrugs and chugs her milk carton. Amelia glances at her. Julchen scratches at her hair maniacally.
"No one here is gunna make you say anything you don't wanna." Another shrug. Julchen digs back into her pasta. Amelia cautiously bites her apple once more. She probably won't touch the pasta.
"I'm here for manic depressive bipolar disorder, a bit of depression thrown in," Julchen laughs at her words. Amelia stares at her wide eyed. She has no idea how Julchen could be so calm about her diagnosis. Amelia knows she would be freaking out and upset about actually having a disorder. It's not right. She had to be the perfect little girl, and being mental, isn't perfect. She shakes her head violently.
"You alright?" Julchen asks with a mouthful of apple. Amelia nods quickly. She has to be fine. She has to be strong. She takes the tray and places it on the table next to the bed. She takes the carton and chugs it then takes a deep breath. She'll be fine. She just has to show she is fine, and she can get out soon enough. She places the empty carton on the tray and turns into the covers. A few minutes later she hears Julchen taking her tray. Probably back to the cafeteria.
She doesn't say a word when Julchen tells her goodnight. It's not until an hour after lights are out does she hear the crying. It's not coming from Julchen, the girl is already out. She sits up and listens to the noises coming through the door. Small sobs and hiccups. Amelia grimaces and hides her head under her pillow. She is stronger than her tears. She won't cry.
AN: This story is loosely based off of Patricia McCormick's book Cut.