My entire body shook while trying to hold down the dry heaving that was threatening to bring another wave of sickness. I tried to stand at the sink, hands gripping tightly enough to the ceramic that my knuckles were white from the force. My reflection made me hate myself. Weakness was all I could see. Red puffy cheeks from crying, bile still wet on the corner of my lips, shoulders trembling beyond my control. He was in my head, telling me my fragility would win. Telling me that weak-minded people always give in at the end. It would be better off if I just ended it, ended the torment. He had always said my battle wasn’t one worth winning; strong people were soldiers called upon to fight. Not weak people who couldn’t battle their own demons.
Fighting what had been put in my head over the years was mentally draining. I fought with my reflection, going back and forth on whose will was stronger in this moment. The voice in my head that didn’t belong to me, or the one I was trying to gain from the moment I broke up with him. My voice wasn’t strongyet, though it tried its best to overpower his; it wasn’t loud enough to drown out his influence. If I had been at home, unsupervised and alone, I probably would have given in to the desire to regain control by cutting myself until I felt the sweet release from something completely under my supremacy.
But I wasn’t at home. I was surrounded by people with demons just like myself. Breakfast wasn’t for another hour, judging by the clock that hung high on the wall in my room. It was still early yet, with no guarantee that anyone else was awake, but it didn’t hurt to try. She said that if ever I needed a friend, she would listen. As uncomfortable as it made me, I was willing to put it to the test to try and rid myself of the downward spiral my mind was intent on taking me.
Not bothering to put on the slipper socks with rubber bottoms, I made my way to Kendi’s room barefoot. It was against policy, but since we weren’t supposed to line up any time soon, I was hoping any nurses doing the rounds wouldn’t notice my lack of footwear. Her door was cracked open. Whether it was because she preferred it that way or if it was left that way by the nurses, it was hard to tell. When they did their rounds every quarter of an hour, if the door was closed, they had to knock, no matter what time it was. I learned to leave mine cracked simply to prevent the knocking when I wasasleep.
As gently as I could, I knocked, slowly opening the door as quietly as I could, relieved to see her light was on and she was sitting up on a neatly made bed with a book on her lap.
“Good morning, and here I thought I was the only one who woke up this early by choice,” she greeted in her usual cheerful voice. When she caught a glimpse of my face, her tone immediately changed. “What’s wrong, Rae?”
Words failed me as she got up and made her way over to me, concern etched all over her face. She didn’t wait for me to answer as she embraced me in the doorway. Her goddess braids were loose and tickled my cheek as she hugged me tight, rubbing my back against my dry sobs.
“Shhhh, it’s okay Rae,” She had no idea what I was upset about. She just comforted me in the same way Michelle would have — without judgment or the pressing need to know what was bothering me.
We stood like that for a while, my tears taking a few moments to slow down, while the voices in my head battled it out. I squeezed my eyes shut against the light from her room, willing my own mind not to betray me with what he wanted. He wasn’t in control of me anymore, but the guilt that I carried for ever letting him take that power from me was something I wasn’t sure would ever go away. How could I have given over those pieces of myself so carelessly to the point that I lost myself inthe process?
“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked, letting go of me as I started to regain my composure.
I nodded as she led me to sit down on her bed with her. More personal items decorated the empty spaces of her room from where she had been at the clinic much longer than I had been. Pictures were taped to her wall of what I assumed was her family. Photographs of art were placed right alongside them.
“Are those paintings you’ve done?” I asked as I sat cross-legged on her bed, facing her.
“Some, my parents sent me pictures of those and a few of my favorite pieces by my favorite artists to brighten the room. They bring me a new one every visitation.” She said, admiring all the photos she had beside her bed.
“They’re beautiful,” I said, fiddling with the tape on my bandage again.
“What happened this morning, Rae?” She gently asked.
“My ex-boyfriend called.” Nausea threatened to overtake me again just from thinking about his voice over the phone.
“I thought they had banned him?” A look of shock appeared on her face.
“They did, at least from visiting me, I’m not sure if phone calls are screened or not before they come in here.” My eyes were overly dry and itchy from crying so much as I tried to process everything he said, yet I was unable to produce any more tears to make them comfortable.
“What did he want?”
“He wanted to work out our future,” I said with a scoff, the notion even more ridiculous when I said it out loud.
She laughed, a colder laugh than I had heard from her during our time together. “He’s kidding, right?”
I shook my head, “No, he said if I don’t give him a chance, then he’s going to finish what he started.”
She sat frozen for a minute, processing what I had said, the reality taking a moment to fully sink in.
“So he threatened to finish killing you?”
“More or less.”
“Did you tell any of the nurses?”
“Not yet. No one believed me that he tried to kill me before; I doubt anyone will take me seriously this time.”
“That doesn’t mean we won't try. Is there anyone who believes you? Someone who isn’t a patient, maybe?”
“My therapist seems to think I’m telling the truth, but he could just be saying that to get me to open up to him.”
She shook her head, her braids swaying with the movement. “I doubt your therapist would lie to you. It would make their job a bit counterproductive, don't you think?”
