After everything that happened, my health took a turn for the better, indicating that I had been suffering from a severe bout of the flu. Within a few days, I found myself back at the mental facility alongside other children. Although I still couldn't eat like a normal person, I managed to come to terms with the fact that there was something amiss with me. Despite others insisting that I had PTSD, I didn't believe it. I simply recognized that there was something about me that didn't feel quite right.
"Fuyuko, the therapist would like to see you," Ms. Naomi said, poking her head into the room where I was currently staying. Letting out a sigh, I set down the pencil I had been using to write a letter to my older brother. Kolter, who had been visiting me along with his brother, had urged me to express my feelings about the past ten years since my brother had sent me away. However, I had only managed to write the letters so far, as I wasn't quite ready to send them to the address Kolter had provided.
Heading down the hallway, I took a turn at the common area before reaching a door that was slightly ajar. Inside, a man with slightly gray hair and a larger build awaited. "Ah, Fuyuko, there you are. I hope everything is going better," he said, licking his lips. Every time I was around this man, a feeling of unease gnawed at the pit of my stomach. Years of enduring abuse from foster families had taught me to trust my instincts and run if something didn't feel right. However, being in a mental health facility left me with no means of escape. I had learned that this man was just as troubled as some of the patients here, confirming my gut feeling.
"Yes, sir. You wanted to see me?" I said, hesitantly taking a seat in one of the chairs. Normally, I would have preferred to stand by the door, but the man was facing the other way. However, my unease intensified as the man abruptly stood up from his chair and began to approach me from behind. His hands started to creep over my shoulders, causing panic to surge within me. In that moment, I lost control and let out a piercing scream at the top of my lungs, hoping to draw attention.
Within seconds, Ms. Naomi and an orderly burst into the room, responding to my distress. Despite their arrival, the man's hands remained on my waist, his intentions clear as he attempted to pull down my pants. The situation was dire, and I desperately needed their intervention.
"Doctor, remove your hands from Fuyuko right this moment," Ms. Naomi sternly commanded, swiftly pulling me away from the man's grasp. Thankfully, my pants remained securely in place throughout the ordeal. The orderlies reacted swiftly, seizing the man and escorting him out of the office and away from the ward.
"Fuyuko, are you alright?" Ms. Naomi asked, her hands gently resting on my shoulders. Initially, I felt a surge of panic, as if I were trapped once again. But then, I remembered the words Yusaku used to say after the lost incident. He used to say that three things can get you through anything. I wasn't sure where he had gotten that from, but I was grateful because those words had helped me through some rough times.
Taking a deep breath, I replied to Ms. Naomi, "I will be fine, and I can list three reasons why. Firstly, that man will never be able to touch me again. Secondly, I am safe here. And thirdly, as long as I don't hide from the fear, there is nothing that can hurt me." With each reason I stated, I felt a newfound strength and resilience building within me. I took another deep breath, releasing it slowly, allowing myself to let go of the tension and fear that had gripped me moments ago.
"That's right, Fuyuko. Now, how about some frozen yogurt?" Ms. Naomi suggested, gently leading me out of the office. Since I still couldn't keep anything down, the mental facility had made sure to have a steady supply of frozen yogurt set aside for me. Excitement welled up within me, and I eagerly nodded my head, grateful for the opportunity to enjoy a sweet treat that I could tolerate.
"There you go, Fuyuko. Have you tried spending time with the other children today?" Ms. Naomi asked, gently placing the frozen treat on the table in front of me. I shook my head, choosing to retreat to my room rather than interact with people. Ms. Naomi looked at me with her usual expression of disappointment before taking a seat across from me. I knew what was about to follow.
"Fuyuko, it's important for you to socialize with the others. I understand your desire to leave, but they won't allow it until they see some real progress from you. Then again, the therapist you were seeing believed that you still posed a risk to yourself and others," Ms. Naomi said, reflecting on the recent events. I glanced up at her, the spoon halfway between my mouth and the small plastic bowl in front of me.
"The reason I haven't been released is because that individual claimed I was a danger to myself and others. But I assure you, I'm not a threat to anyone. At most, I might cause a few scratches in self-defense," I said, forcefully placing the spoon on the table, narrowly avoiding breaking it in the process.
"Fuyuko, according to your file, it appears that there is a record of you causing substantial damage to the police station with your sheer strength," Ms. Naomi stated, raising an eyebrow in response to my statement. I gazed at her, a mix of disbelief and regret washing over me as I realized that only the police force, myself, and any witnesses present that day would be aware of the magnitude of my actions. With a heavy heart, I slowly sank back into my chair, my eyes fixed on the dish of frozen yogurt before me, overwhelmed by a profound sense of remorse for the mistakes of my past.
"In my defense, I was a fourteen-year-old runaway at that time. I had no idea what the police were going to do," I explained, pushing a few strands of my blue hair out of my face.
"So, in order to convey your fear to the officers, you felt that biting four police officers, including my husband, was the only option," Ms. Naomi remarked, crossing her arms over her chest while maintaining her raised eyebrow. I let out a sigh, my head bowed in acknowledgment.
"No, that should have been my last resort. I should have tried to communicate verbally first," I admitted, looking up at Ms. Naomi. To my surprise, I was met with a gentle smile that I had grown accustomed to seeing on her face.
"That's true, Fuyuko. But there's something else you didn't take into account. When someone has a mental condition like PTSD, expressing their fear verbally is not always easy. At that moment, their primary focus is finding a safe place and they'll do anything to escape the perceived danger, even if it means unintentionally becoming a danger to those around them," Ms. Naomi explained, reaching out to take my hand in a comforting gesture.
"And do you truly believe that I have PTSD?" I asked, for the first time considering the possibility of accepting what others had been telling me.
"Oh, yes, Fuyuko. Have you ever taken the opportunity to read through your file?" Ms. Naomi responded, reaching into the chair beside her and pulling out a stack of papers. I could tell it wasn't my medical file but rather the file given to all the foster families I had been placed with. I knew that more than half of them had probably burned that file in frustration. However, there were a few who had initially tried to understand me, but eventually gave up when everything became too challenging. Ms. Naomi left me alone to peruse my foster file, providing me with a chance to discover so much information about myself for the first time.
From the revelation that nobody knew where Yusaku and I had come from, to the surprising knowledge that I held a track and field record at my school, there were countless details that I had been unaware of. It turns out I was one of the fastest runners the school had ever seen. Then, as I turned the page, I stumbled upon a breakdown of my medical conditions. In bold letters, there it was: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder - diagnosed at the age of nine.
I sat there, staring at the words in front of me, feeling a mix of emotions. All this time, there had been a genuine reason behind my actions, rooted in stress and fear. It was as if a heavy burden had been lifted from my shoulders. Quickly gathering my file, I rushed back to the room where I was currently staying, disregarding the dinner bell and leaving my forgotten frozen yogurt behind. This was the usual routine during mealtime because I preferred to avoid interacting with the other children.
For the rest of the night, I devoted myself to writing letters to all the people I had hurt by not believing what they had been telling me, including the owner of the orphanage. I knew I would have to wait to send them, but it was the only way I could apologize for my past behavior. That night, for the second time in ten years, I slept without the fear of someone hurting me, including the haunting memories that had plagued me for so long. It was a newfound sense of peace that embraced me as I drifted off to sleep.