calling out to you

14. anna

‼️TW: SELF HARM‼️

11:50 am

I never know what to say in such situations. When the only reason you have come across a person is due to the same mental issues your significant people face.
"Yeah, I better go now." Cara smiles while receding towards 404, the room where her elder brother stays at.
"Goodbye."

My first meeting with Cara was three years back when I found her crying, curled up in a ball just outside my sister's room. She had just left her brother to the center along with her family, it was after his first suicide attempt and she was even younger than me.
But young enough to remember what happened. In fact, no matter how young you might be, the bad parts always find a way to jab their jaws deep in your soul.
I hugged her and calmed her down, I told her how it was necessary for her brother and how it would make him better. And with every consolation and every reason, I prayed that I was right. I hoped, because these were all the reasons my mother gave me and I clung to them.

After making sure that Cara had disappeared into the room, I increased my pace and jogged to the elevator. My hands shaking and heart racing, I was about to steal an extremely confidential property, I understand the risks but something has happened to me this past week, I crave for this adrenalin rush.

The door opened to the reception and I walked out, eyes moving past every face and every clock and every movement. I was suddenly hit by this overdrive of emotions so I stopped, and calmed myself down.
The double door to the right swung open as one of the nurses came out and a glimpse of the file cabinet brought me back to life. I rubbed the sweat off my hands and walked closer to the room, an eye on whatever was going inside and another on Charlotte. She always seems to notice me and working in a rehab, I am sure she can pick up unusual behavior.
As soon as her eye catches me, I turn and walk towards the counter.

"How is she today?" she asks politely.
"Same old." I smile and eye the familiar bunch of keys kept on the counter. A rush of electricity passes through me, I remove my id card and am about to hand it to her when my hands twitch and the card falls down on the floor.
"Sorry." I say as Charlotte bends down to pick it up when another rush hits me and I leap forward, my hands trembling with the unnerving time pressure, I grab the keys off the counter and turn around, disappearing behind the doors.

12:01 pm

I carefully closed the doors behind me, relief washes over my face when I look down at the keys. I am getting better at this.
When slowly my mind registers the fact that there might be other nurses here, I turn around and eye the entire room.
With hushed steps, I move towards the file embarked with the year 2017. My hands trace the alphabets all through B and Bl and Bly and bingo.

I pulled out the yellow folder, stuffing in the photos and records that had managed to escape. I feel the edge of the tape from over the folder and hastily close the cabinet, putting the folder back into the bag and rambling my way out of the room.

12:20 am

I put the car in reverse and accelerated the hell out of the parking lot, looking beside at the folder kept on the passenger seat, my heart doubled over. I really hoped that there would have been another way to know about my sister and all she had to go through but I couldn't risk putting her progress in danger for something that might turn out to be nothing.

I pressed one of the many buttons on my wheel, "Call Addy."
"Oh my god." I practically screamed as soon as she picked up.
"Why do you sound out of breath Ann?" she said, with a note of panic in her voice.
"I got it."
"Sorry, I am not following. Are you okay?"
"Just meet me in 10. At my place."

I roll my car into the driveway and catch the glimpse of Addy parking her cycle in front of the house. I have to teach Addy how to drive a car but I think it is just one of those things she would never want to learn. And honestly, I don't blame her. I wont be strong enough either to drive the very cause of my mother's death.

I eye the yellow folder, this is it. This file might contain more information that both of us have ever known. It might also contain the truth behind what really happened to Theresa.
I look at my reflection in the rearview mirror, acknowledging how I look like my mother and praying to the gods that John would be the one lying, not my mother because the last thing I want is Peter to be right.

"What the hell is this about?" Addy screamed, walking towards me, her tennis skirt against the wind, hands up in the air. "Freaking me out here, Blythe." She paused midway.
I shoved the folder in her hands.
"Is this?" her eyes budging out, "Anna did you steal this?"

12:38 pm

"I would just like to clarify that this was not my idea." Addy said, making herself comfortable on the couch with a cup of cocoa in one hand and the folder in another.
"Careful with the folder." I walked towards the couch and grabbed her cup, putting it on one of those coasters my mom got from a flea market.

We sat in front of each other, nervously looking at the folder kept between us, hoping that either one of us would be able to gather enough courage to actually look into it.
Addy hastily grabbed the folder and tossed all the contents onto the couch. It was a bunch of stuff, including a file with her name and the date she got admitted on, a tape which required one of those special tape recorders to work and a bunch of pictures.
I picked up the folder and flew it open. The first page had all the usual stuff. It asked different questions, like what is your name, date of birth, gender but the second sheet was the one that caught my attention.

Q. When was your first suicide attempt/self-harming incident?
A. I was six years old when I first started self-harming. At the moment, I did not know exactly what wrong I was doing. I just knew one thing, that I was hurting. Theresa, a close friend of my mother had just passed away. I do not know if six-year-olds are capable of making such strong bonds but I did. I was closer to Theresa than anyone ever and she was gone. John was acting different and we had these two babies to take care of out of the blue, it was like I didn't matter anymore. No one would acknowledge the fact that I was hurting too, so I made them notice me.
But I knew that was wrong as soon as I saw the panic on my mother's face, my little sister Anna cradled in her arms, she thought it was her fault but how could I tell her that it wasn't.
Some days later, my father...he abandoned me. I thought that I did something wrong, that it was my fault that he went away, that I didn't deserve to be happy so I cut myself again but this time, I didn't want anyone to notice me. I just wanted to redirect the pain towards something else.

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