Abbi Glines - Existence

A knock on my bedroom door startled me and I turned to stare at the closed door, knowing it was my mother. My very worried mother. How could I explain to her I was hurting so deeply I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to recover? There was a loss in my life like nothing I’d ever known.

“Come in.” My voice sounded hoarse from lack of use. My mother opened the door slowly and stuck her head inside as if to take in the atmosphere before walking all the way in.

“You not up to going to school this morning?” she asked with a smile that didn’t meet her eyes.

I’d forgotten what day it was but I knew I wasn’t ready to face school. I wasn’t ready to face Leif or Miranda or Wyatt. I needed to remain in my room and find the strength inside me to keep living. I shook my head and she gave up the pretense of smiling, a worried frown creasing her forehead.

“Honey, you’ve missed a week of school so far. I have let you stay in here hoping you would overcome the trauma you’ve experienced. But now I’m getting worried you aren’t going to pull out of this. I’ve been studying your symptoms on the internet and you have all the signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. You’re having horrible nightmares and screaming out in your sleep, yelling for dank or sank or crank-I can’t understand it through the sobs. You won’t leave your room and you aren’t taking calls or visitors. When I try to talk to you it’s like you black out on me. You aren’t listening to me.”

I sat there listening to her. I was suffering from having my heart shattered, broken beyond repair, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I just stayed silent. She seemed to take my silence as encouragement. “I’ve made a few calls and I got you an appointment with a psychiatrist. I need you to go talk to her. She’s really good and works with teenagers solely. She comes very highly recommended and we don’t have to tell anyone you’re going to see her.” Tears sprang into my mother’s eyes. She swiped at them and let out a ragged breath. “I…the truth is, I should have sent you years ago. When you were little you would talk about the people in the walls. I thought it was your imagination but now I wonder if somehow you have some unbalanced chemicals and this trauma you’ve experienced has triggered something.” She sniffed. “You talk to yourself at night in here. I hear you speaking to someone. Honey, you need some help.”

I nodded. I knew it would ease her fear. She was so worried and I couldn’t explain any of this to her without her truly thinking I was insane.

She smiled through her tears and nodded. “Okay good. I’ll give you some time but you need to get up and get a shower. Then get dressed and we will ride over to see Doctor Hockensmith. She’s expecting us today.”

I nodded again and watched as my mother left the room, leaving the door open as a reminder I needed to get up. I had just agreed to go see a psychiatrist. My mother was wasting her money but I knew I had to go or she was going to need to see a psychiatrist from the stress I was putting on her emotionally. I hated that I was upsetting her but I couldn’t seem to see a way out of the despair consuming me.

The large, two-story, white stucco house stood on stilts facing out over the Gulf of Mexico. My mom slowed down and stared up at the house large enough to hold at least five families comfortably. But then, it wasn’t a house for a family. The cheery house on the beach was a place to heal for female teens suffering from psychiatric issues. I glanced over at my mom, who was waiting on me to make the first move. She’d packed my things with me in silence after I’d agreed with the psychiatrist that I was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and needed help. I’d been ready to agree to anything to get me out of the office where it was obvious she really wanted me to change personalities on her or admit to cutting myself. I wasn’t a psychopath and this seemed to be the one diagnosis she’d given me I was okay with lying about.

“Do you want to make a few phone calls before we go get you settled in? One of the rules is you can’t have your phone here.” Mom’s expression told me she was afraid the news of no phone was going to be a deal breaker for me. I nodded thinking of Leif and Miranda. I needed to let them know where I would be for a while. Mom nodded. “Okay. I’ll start taking your bags on up and getting you all checked in.” She said the words with a small hiccup as if she were about to break down and cry. She’d handled this all so well and been so strong, thinking this was what I needed.

I reached over and took her hand and squeezed it tightly. “Mom, I’m okay with this. I think it’s going to help me. Don’t look so upset. It’s all going to be okay.” She nodded with tears filling her eyes. I knew I had to get better for her. I had to find a way to live with the hole in my chest.

Mom headed up the stairs with my bags in her hands and I picked up my phone and dialed Miranda first.

“Well, it’s about flippen’ time I see your name pop up on my screen. Jeez! Pagan, you’ve been scaring me.”

I smiled at the relief in her voice. “I’m sorry.” I took a deep breath. “I’ve been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I’m waiting to be checked into this rehabilitation center for people with similar issues. I can’t keep my phone but I was told I could have visitors if you want to come see me sometime.” Miranda was silent and I started to wonder if my phone had dropped her call.

“So, they can fix you…I mean, this?” she asked slowly sounding as if she was terrified.

“Yes, they can.” I told her reassuringly. But I knew they couldn’t heal me. I would never be fixed. I would just learn to go through the motions of living so those I loved didn’t worry about me.

“Have you told Leif?” Her voice had lost its earlier cheer and I hated that it was my fault.

“No, I called you first.”

With a ragged sigh she said, “I love you.” I felt tears spring into my eyes for the first time. I loved her too. “Call Leif and I’ll be there to visit ASAP.”

“Okay. See you soon. Bye.” I pressed end and then called Leif.

“Pagan.” He sounded as relieved as Miranda had.

“Hey you,” I said, needing to reassure him before I dealt him the same news I’d just given Miranda.

“You feeling better today? I hope so, Pagan, because I’m missing you like mad.” I smiled at the warmth his voice always caused.

“I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Leif. I went to see a psychiatrist.”

“What is that? Are they giving you medicine to fix it?” His voice sounded panicked.

“It’s exactly what it sounds like. I’m having trouble functioning normally due to the trauma we all experienced. You all handled it normally. I didn’t. It could be a chemical imbalance; they’re not sure. But I’m going to be in a psychiatric center for a while. They’re supposed to be able to fix me here. I’m not going to be able to keep my phone but I can have visitors.”

Leif seemed to be taking a deep breath. “So I can come see you? How long will you be there?”

“Yes, you can, and I’m not sure yet.”

“I’m sorry this is happening to you, Pagan. I’m so sorry.” His voice sounded full of pain and guilt.

“Listen to me, Leif. I’m dealing with this because of things that are wrong with me. What we saw just triggered it. I’ll get better.” I needed to hear that lie as much as he did. After reassuring him several more times I hung up and left my phone on the passenger seat of the car. My overnight bag was all that was left in the back seat so I grabbed it and headed up the stairs to my new home, at least for now.