Chasing Death
Chapter 1: Suicide's Silent Call
Author: Innocent Attraction
June 19, 2009
I guess I it could be considered suicide when you chase a bottle of sleep pills with a bottle of straight liquor. I guess that might be the reason they locked me away anyways. Whatever they think it could possibly be, they're wrong. I didn't try to kill myself. I can swear the only reason I even took the sleeping pills was to try and go to sleep. I wasn't intending to even die; just get some sleep. I haven't been sleeping at all. Literally. I was tired. There was nothing else to drink in my house. The milk had been rotten for days. The pop was dry and warm. The tea sat in the fridge for longer than I thought it would. The only thing was the bitter tasting liquor sitting in the cabinet. My father drank it on nights when his boss at work and he would fight or on special occasions. I guess every night was a special occasion because he drank it almost every night. I took a sip, and suddenly my body was spinning to a vortex of darkness. I couldn't feel the world anymore. It was strange to say the least. I woke up to find a tube down my throat, a doctor hovering over me, and my mother crying while she sat next to me in the chair. I wasn't sure if she had even left my side the whole time. "Mom?" I said weakly.
She looks over at me, wipes her tears off her cheek, and gets up to run her fingers through my hair. I blink, trying to raise up but feeling my body crumble with the pressure. I lay back down. "What happened to me?" I ask my mom, wondering why it felt like I'd been out for days.
"I came home to find you on the floor of the bathroom, vomit dripping out of your mouth and unconscious. I was wanted to make sure you were ok. I heard you and your father had gotten into it."
I smile at her. Ever since mom and dad split up and moved into different houses, mom's been more worried about me. She always thinks that one day, dad's going to suddenly snap and rip me in two, throw the pieces out the door, and forget about me all together. Maybe it's the alcohol that's doing it. Maybe it's the phone calls she gets hearing a drunken man try to tell her that he's sorry for asking but he needed a ride home from the bar again. Mom would drag herself out of bed at 2:30 or so in the morning, throw on her sandals, and drive her car to get him. She'd help him threw the door and find me sleeping on the couch with the TV on and a pizza box on the counter or, even worse, me asleep near the front door waiting for dad to come home. She wished she could've taken me with her. It's hard to imagine what she must've gone through. She had to send my older brother to an institution for trying to commit suicide already. She was reliving that horror. I realize I'd been staring off into space. I look over at my mom. "Will I be sent away?" I ask her.
Tears form in her eyes again. I take a breath in and look away from her again. She has to calm herself down before she can bring herself to talk. "Look, I think you might try this again. Lately, you've been more submissive. You don't talk to any of your friends, you're struggling with school, and I don't want this to happen again. I think you might be like your brother. I don't want to see you die."
"Mom, I'm not a manic depressive. I didn't try to kill myself. I wanted to sleep. I haven't been sleeping for weeks now. And when I do sleep, it's not for very long because I have to hear dad's drunken, angry slurs."
Mom pauses for a bit. "That's why I'm asking a therapist to talk to you. I need to make sure I'm making a right decision. For your mental, and physical, health. I think you're not telling me all the things that have gone on and I'm afraid that if you don't talk to someone, it'll eat away at you until you plan another suicide attempt, like hanging yourself. Just please, do this for me. Just talk to someone. Please?"
I roll my eyes. "Fine." I say. "But I'm only doing this for you. Just to prove to you that I'm not losing my head and that I'm ok."
:::::
Several days later, a fat, bald guy walks into my room. His coat is a dingy, green color that's in a plaid sort of pattern. His pants, obviously a bit too small for him, are tanned and wearing. His shoes are brown loafers with his tan-colored socks slightly showing. "My name is Dr. Cotter. Your mother wanted me to talk to you to see if staying at an institution would benefit you. Everything you say to me will remain confidential. I promise you that much." He pauses, gets his pad of paper ready and his black pen, and looks at me. "So tell me about yourself. What's your name?"
I stare at him for a bit. "Sasuke. Sasuke Uchiha."
"I know your brother. I talk to him in the institution every so often. He seems like a nice guy."
"I haven't seen my brother in three years. I wouldn't know."
Dr. Cotter seems a bit surprised by my tone. I guess he didn't think I'd still have any bitter feelings towards my family. "So how old were you when your parents split."
"I'm 17 now so it would put me at 14-years-old, the summer before I entered high school. That wasn't a fun year. My brother had graduated high school by then and started…well I'll just say losing it. It put pressure on my parents and I noticed it. It kind of made me feel a bit neglected I guess." I couldn't believe I was telling this to a guy I had just met. "I guess it also made me a bit more…depressed. After my brothers' first suicide attempt, I never spoke to him again. I don't know. I just lost a lot of respect for him."
Dr. Cotter wrote down my words on that pad. I guess I knew why my mom liked him so much; he actually seemed to pay attention to people. "So, when did you start noticing the depression? What do you think was the defining moment?"
"When my dad came home drunk and punched me in the face after a night of heavy drinking." I hated to say that. My father loved me. That much I knew, but I never thought a man with as much class and sophistication as he had would do something like that. I tried to forget things like that; let them soak at the back of my brain and never come out. Unfortunately for me, that didn't seem possible. I look at Dr. Cotter. He wanted me to continue. "After that, I guess I noticed that my mood was less happy. It started to be a constant struggle to get to sleep at night, knowing that my dad would stumble in drunk and wasted. It wouldn't be uncommon for me to hide away in my bedroom with the door locked tight so all he could do was hit the door."
"So I assume your father is a violent drunk?" I nodded in agreement. "When did the drinking get worse? Your mother told me that at one point, the drinking was so bad that you pleaded for her to come get you."
"That was after my brother was sent to the hospital. He felt so ashamed and like a complete letdown. I guess he felt it was his fault that Itachi tried to kill himself and was almost nearly busted for having crack in his coat pocket when the ambulance wheeled him in. So dad bought stronger liquor, like black whiskey and 100 proof alcohol and have shots of those. He didn't ever drink a full glass; just shots. He didn't want to overdue it. He's overdone it before and…well it turned out kind of messy."
Dr. Cotter couldn't stop staring at me. His beady, little eyes were glued to me like a snake is glued to his prey; staring at it in silence until it's least expecting an attack and sinking his teeth into it's neck. I wanted him to look away from me. I knew already he thought going to rehab would be the best decision. I felt like not saying much more. I didn't need my whole personal life story coming out. "Your mother tells me for a time, you showed promiscuous behavior towards both girls and boys." I knew he was going to bring this stuff up. "Why don't you tell me about it?"
I roll my eyes and look away. "I don't think that would be a good idea at this point, Dr. Cotter." He gives me a stern look. Apparently, he thought he needed to know this information. I didn't think he did. This information, I knew for sure, would go back to my mother and father. They didn't need to know about my sexual history. It wasn't any of their business nor did they need to involve themselves in it. "Can we discuss something else please?"
"I'm afraid not. If I tell your mother that rehab would be best, they'll ask you about this you know. They are going to ask more than I'm asking now. You might not have me as a therapist. There are three others that work there. If you'd like me as your therapist since you've met me already, I'd suggest you tell me all you can now."
I sigh, feeling rather defeated. I knew he'd probably decide to send me away. Apparently, he observed something that caught his attention and decided it would be the best decision. I found that hard to believe that I displayed anything but being a depressed teenager but I guess I was wrong about that. "Just promise me this will only remain in your head and not involve my parents. I don't need them involved in this kind of business. It's not something I'm proud of myself for doing." Dr. Cotter nods, smiling sincerely. I take a deep breath in, try to calm my nerves, and breathe out before beginning. "All right, so my mom does know more than I thought she did. It was during my sophomore year. I was hanging with the wrong crowd at the time. My first time was with my friend actually. He and I didn't expect it to happen." I could see the color in Dr. Cotters' face drain. I was betting he didn't think I had sex with men. "The next time it happened was behind the bleachers during a football game. That was with a girl. We were both kind of…depressed I guess so we thought it would. It did." I felt my nerves build up again about the third one. "The third time…was in my brothers' bedroom." I ended with that. "I don't even have a reason as to why I was even having sex. It just…it just made me escape all the bullshit going on in my head I guess."
"How many partners do you think you had?"
I had to swallow my pride. "About 6."
Dr. Cotter shook his head. "Did you use protection? Did the partner use any form of protection?"
"Sometimes yes, other times no."
Dr. Cotter obviously didn't like that answer. I could tell by the way his lower lip curled. I couldn't bring myself to discuss the rest of the things I had. Sure, I told him how many total partners I had; I just didn't tell him how many times I've done with each partner. It wasn't his business at that point in time. Maybe if he did become my therapist if he decided for me to go, I might tell him then. Other than that, I had a right to keep my mouth shut. He asks me a couple more questions about the symptoms, about the drinking, about my father and his increasing mood swings, and about the journal I had kept that my mother ended up finding and reading with all my personal thoughts locked away. She hadn't told me she kept it with her. It angered me to hear that. When he was finished, he tells me good luck during recovery and leaves. I look up at the ceiling. I know where he's going; to find my mother and talk to her about this; to tell her that the recommendation for therapy might be the best option to save my life. And no matter how against it I was, I'd have no say in the matter of choosing my own fate in this one.
:::::
Around 6:00, I got the ok that I could leave in about three days. I wouldn't be able to eat solid food for a couple days; that much I could understand. What I didn't understand was why they needed to keep me hear another couple days. I already guessed why though; I had been on suicide watch. That would be something I could thank my mother for. When the three days were up, I found mom waiting for me. She had clothes for me to wear and a Campbell's Soup on the Go in her other hand. "Your father might not come and see you. He's visiting his counselors." I look at her surprised. "Yeah, he finally took my advice and is getting help. I was so proud of him when he told me. It's a huge step for him." I smile, but it's kind of weak and forced. "He helped me move all of your stuff to my house. You'll be staying with me until the judge gives him the ok for you to come back. He actually called the police on himself because he wasn't sure he wouldn't hurt someone." She pauses again, seeing as what she was saying was getting under my skin. The horrors of getting screamed out during his drunken rampage played through my head like an infectious disease. I get myself all cleaned up and dressed before returning to my mom. She was looking out the window. "Dr. Cotter said it might be a good idea for me to send you to rehab." I knew that was coming. "I have a suitcase packed up for you." That I didn't know was coming.
"Are you fucking kidding me mom? I'm finally able to get out of dad's house and you're sending me away? That's not even fair. When was this arranged? Were you planning this shit all along and just didn't want to tell me about it? Tell me the truth!" I could hear my anger screaming out.
"I called the day after you were admitted. Loramine is a great institute and they aren't too far from here. Sasuke, I can't risk what happened to Itachi happen to you. Please understand where all of this is coming from. I need to make sure you won't end up going down the road he chose to go down. Just don't get upset with me. I'm only trying to make a decision to save you."
"You're sending me to the one Itachi's at? Oh that's just great! Real smart choice mom! I haven't spoken to him since he went crazy. You can't do this to me!"
"I can. I'm your mother, Sasuke. I'm not going to change my mind about this. You tried to commit suicide, dear. You tried to kill yourself. Who's to say you won't attempt it again and be successful the next time? I don't want to risk that happening to my son, all right?" I could see tears rolling down her cheeks. I could see the sadness behind the pale-colored mask she wore that had a smile on it. "Please, just do this for me. I can't bear to lose another son."
I hold her in my arms; run my fingers through her long, raven hair. I try to comfort her as much as I could possibly do. I felt my own eyes begin to drip with tears. Hell was breathing down my neck and the only thing I could even think about doing was hold onto the woman sending me there. Nice.
:::::
My arms held the suitcase close to my chest. Only two days after getting out of the hospital and already, I was being sent away. I couldn't look at my mom, who was in the driver's seat. I couldn't at this point in time. I felt rather betrayed by her and didn't need her to hear what was really going on inside my head. We drive for an hour or so before getting anywhere. We come up to a sign that reads "Loramine Institution for Mental Health". It makes me seem less like a psychiatric ward and more like a college for potential doctors. My guess is that's what they were going for. My mom follows the narrow roads towards the office building. A man is waiting for us to greet us. Mom parks the car. I hesitate to get out. I don't want to. I've never felt more dreadful in my life. Mom looks at me with impatient eyes. I sigh, opening the car door and get out with a huff. "Welcome to Loramine. I'm Dr. Rowe. I run the institution. Before we talk, I'll need to borrow your mother for a bit so we can fill out paper work. Dr. Liam will show you around."
And just like that, the doctor was gone. I could barely pay attention to her before Dr. Liam walks out. Dr. Liam is much younger. His hair is an ashy brown color with natural blond highlights running through each strand of hair. He smiles at me, but I can tell he's just trying to make me feel more comfortable by smiling. "I'm gonna guess you're part of the welcoming committee." I say sarcastically.
He looks at me with his intense, green eyes. "Afraid so. I seem to get that reaction a lot from newcomers. I'm Dr. Liam Murphy, and I'll most likely be your group leader. Dr. Rowe has instructed me to show you the grounds while she talks to your mom and your potential therapist. Towards the end of your stay, you'll only be talking to Dr. Rowe. She's the one that approves the people that are allowed to leave. But your therapist and I have some authority to that too so she's not the only one you need to impress. But anyways, we'll start with the cafeteria."
I follow him through the small, concrete paths towards another large, red-bricked building. "This is where we eat at 7:00, 12:00, and 7:00. You can probably guess which is which. You have one hour to eat and take care of business. After that time is up, we'll walk you back to the men's ward and lock up the building. When you've been here a couple months and have proven worthy, we give you a card that will let you in to get coffee or eat early. Of course, there will be nurses that will watch but I assume you could understand why." I nod in agreement. "All right, any questions?"
"Is the food any better than a school cafeteria? And what about schooling? I'm still in high school and I'd like to graduate with my class."
"I'll promise to discuss that when we reach the classroom area. For right now, I'll take you to the recreation center."
I followed him down another path. My arm grew tired from carrying two suitcases. I'm guessing I didn't have to bring them along. I check to see if they had wheels, and feel stupid to find out that after carrying both for ten minutes, they had wheels all along. I put my stuff down, grab the strap, and start walking around. Dr. Liam stops in front of the building. "This is the recreation center. When you've been here long enough, the card that gives you access to the cafeteria will also give you access to the sports center. There's a gym here to work out in, another gym for basketball, and a pool. Again, nurses will be on duty at all times. I don't need to explain why. Now you asked about the classrooms." He turns around and points to the smallest building on the far east corner of the grounds. "That's the classroom. You're not the only teenager here, you know? There are at least five others you'll be sharing a ward with, including about eight other girls. You'll have classes 8:00 to 11:00, be walked to the cafeteria, then back to class until 2:00. It'll be just like high school."
I groaned at the mention of high school. I knew people were going to ask where I was and why was I sent to an institution. That was inevitable. It just sucked to realize I'd spend my last year of high school in a jail cell. "I also asked about graduation."
"If you've shown significant progress, we allow students to attend the rehearsals and graduation ceremonies. We have nurses that go with who dress like teachers so not to cause suspicion. It helps make the process a little easier for some, as I've been told."
I nod, though hearing that news wasn't something I'd like to hear. I'd like to be able to see my class and graduate with them. But I guess it doesn't matter what I want anymore. "Now, I'll take you to the men's ward. The women's ward is off limits to you, which I'm pretty sure you already knew. I'll show you around the ward and let you meet back up at the front to say goodbye to your mother."
I hated that word; goodbye. It's like a death sentence for me. It's a killer word. It kind of ripped through me harder than I thought it possibly could. I follow Liam to the ward, which is larger than what I expected. I stare at the windows. I could already tell the walls inside were white and blue and the windows were barred, like a jail. Dr. Liam starts talking again. "The first floor of the building is for group therapy and your therapy sessions and second and third floor are for residents. Residents who are permanent, or 'lifers', live in another dorm near the back. You won't see any of them. But moving on, you must attend all of your therapy sessions and group meetings. We'll have the list posted what days you meet." Liam looks back at me, noticing that I'm obviously confused. "It'll get easier once you've lived here longer." I follow him up the stairs towards the second floor. I see nurses in white dresses and suits. The TV is blaring in the family room near the nurses station. I look at the rooms as I pass them. Some look at me; others don't. I look in the room nearest the nurses station. I can see my brother, sitting on his bed with a book in his hands. I recognize the long, black hair, and tattoo that decorated his shoulder. He didn't look up at me to notice me walking by; I didn't look at him long enough to give him a chance to. "That's the room you'll be staying in." Liam says, pointing to the exact room I looked away from. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest. Just adding to the torture I'm already experiencing, they're making me stay in a room with my older brother. Liam guides me into the room. "Itachi, this is your room mate, Sasuke. I assume you two know each other sense you are related."
Itachi looks up at me. I could see his gaze was just as surprised as mine. He smiles at me though, obviously faking it. I shock his hand, he shock mine; both of us were obviously very static. "Well, I'll let you two comfortable with each other and you get settled in. I'll come back for you in about twenty minutes. There's an emergency I need to handle quickly. Itachi, you wouldn't mind telling your brother about procedures, would you?"
Itachi shock his head. Liam shut the door, and suddenly the air felt a lot thinner than it ever had before. Itachi reads the book until I walk over and put my stuff on the bed. He suddenly puts down the book and turns to face me, his eyes like lasers, staring at my back. "You're a fucking idiot, you know that?" He says coldly. I ignore him. I don't even feel him creep up on me and force me to turn around and look at him. "I thought you'd never make the same mistake I did, Sasuke. But you did. And now you're stuck here like me." His eyes have a magnetic charge to them. They hold me there for a while, forcing me to look at him. "Welcome to Loramine." He brushes off the dust on my jacket. "By the way, not only will you be sharing a room with me, but you'll also have group with me. If you're trying to avoid me completely, you picked the wrong reason to enter rehab. Now the procedures. Rules are you'll have a nurse watching you your first couple months, you have to be at all the meetings, and you'll get a letter for every privilege you earn. You start at 'R', which means restricted to the ward. I'm an 'A', which means I'm allowed to leave the grounds with the nurse. 'A' is one step from signing out, which then you move to a halfway house. It takes a while to get to 'A'. I've been here for two years and I just recently got upgraded. Any questions?"
I pause for a moment. "Why did you try to commit suicide in the first place?"
Itachi has his back to me by the time I ask. He doesn't say anything for a while. "You'll find out when you're ready to handle it. For now, you might want to unpack your stuff. I've got a therapy session in twenty minutes." Itachi walks out of the room. "Hey Kelly, I've got a fucking session in twenty. You gonna escort me over to Dr. Cocker?"
"You could set a good example for your new roommate you know?" She was obviously ignoring the fact that he flipped her off after her comment. "I'll escort you once Liam gets back. He wants you to show him around the second floor. Tell him where the bathrooms are and about the isolation room."
"I'm pretty sure he can find the bathrooms and isolation isn't too hard to find." He looks back at me. "It's at the end of the hall. If you cause a heavy amount of trouble or are brought back after escaping, they strip search you and lock you in there for a couple days. You don't want to spend any time in there. It pretty much sucks. Now Liam will be here in five. Peace." Itachi leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.
I'm left alone in the tiny room. I look around the bedroom, noticing the collection of manga on the desk. I assume most of them are yaoi manga. It wouldn't surprise me in the least. It also sits next to an assortment of books, his make-up, and some cigarette cartons. I unzipped my suitcase and put my clothes, toiletries, and towels in the available dresser. I next put the picture frames with pictures of friends and family on the desk. By the time I have things the way I want them, Liam arrives to take me to my mother. "It looks like you're all moved in. Your mother is here with me."
I walk out of the room and follow him outside. Mom is standing in front of the door. She seems a bit scatter-brained and disheveled. Tears, once again, run down her angelic face. I walk over to her and hug her. "I know you'll get better. I promise to visit at Christmas. I'll bring all your presents here and we'll open them together."
I smile, hugging her again. She kisses me on the forehead, tells me she loves me, and walks away. I feel the tears drip down my cheek. I walk into the building. Liam takes me back up to my room. "Itachi will walk you to the cafeteria at 7:00. If you have any questions, ask the staff. They'll help as much as they can. Your first group, like I've said already, is Thursday. Your first meeting with your therapist, Dr. Lindsey, is tomorrow at 2:30. I'll see you tomorrow for class. Once again, Welcome to Loramine."
I look through my suitcase and find that my mother has returned my notebook. I'm grateful for that. I grab the small, black Composition notebook, a pen, and begin to write.
One attempt at suicide has left me to spend a year or two in a mental institution. Where does that leave my senior year of high school? Up in the air, floating away from my grasp. I'd like to be able to stretch my arms and fingers up towards him and somehow grasp it, but that doesn't seem to be the case this time. I'll miss out on all the dances, the football games, and everything that makes up your senior year on one depressed, over-emotional night, a bottle of black whiskey, and three sleeping pills. I don't consider that a suicide attempt. I really couldn't sleep. There was nothing else to drink except for the flat-tasting, chlorine contaminated water or the alcohol in dad's wooden cupboard. I didn't think there was much else to drink. To make matters more trying for me, they've placed me in the same room as my older brother. I'm sure you've heard of him. He's the person that taught me the ways of the dark side of humanity. He's the person that has pushed me beyond my limits. He provoked my parents to split, my dad to drink heavily, my mother to constantly worry about my physical and mental health, and the reason I'm locked up in the prison cell. I can't blame every bit of this hell on him, though I can blame some. Some blame obviously goes on me, for even thinking that it was a good idea. Some goes on my father, for pushing to this point. Most, however, is my fault. I've let the cruel and demented thoughts roam around my head like a parasite and have suddenly consumed what little sanity I had left in my mind. It's shameful to admit to that, but it's honest and true.
The walls of this place remind me very much of the jail cells I've read about when I did a research project on Alcatraz; brick walls painted colors that are supposed to make it less dingy and somehow more comforting. Though Alcatraz didn't think of the same idea that Loramine has used, it still seems like the same concept in my book. During the time I spend here, I might have to confront the reality I'm not exactly looking forward to facing. The drug uses my mother doesn't know about, the nights I spent in the school bleachers drunk and alone, the nights of sneaking out and sleeping with one of six active partners I have, and purposely avoiding going home to get stoned before my father would come home, drunk and violent. The weed would make the pain duller; the cocaine would make me feel almost nothing. It's a road I never thought I'd travel down. This, and probably other journals, will follow my journey, which I hope will lead to an eventual discovery of what really caused all this and how to heal the wounds that have caused this eruption in my mind.
I put the notebook in a safe place and lay my head down on the pillow. The mattress is softer than I expected. For now, it seems to relax me. It will probably be the most relaxed I'll be for a long time. I look at the ceiling for a while. This is what you get for fucking up, Sasuke. Way to go. Now how do you expect to get yourself out of this mess when you shouldn't have put yourself in this mess in the first place? Stupid idiot. I fiddle with my fingers, trying to remember what even triggered this whole thing but not wanting to have any flashbacks at all. If this was my opportunity for a clean slate, I had to use every bit of it; even if it meant wasting a year of my life. I had no other option, and right now death didn't seem like a good choice; it just made things more complicated.