Behind every mean girl...there's a tragedy

Give all my secrets away

"Crazy people don't ask for help."

"I didn't ask for anything," I tell her as she searches me.

She smiles at me. I shiver at the pity coming my way.

"You came back. Honey, that's a scream for help." She pushes me inside the small room and shuts the door.

My eyes keep staring straight ahead.

"You've just destroyed everything we've worked so hard for," Kenny snaps, "for a boy who doesn't give a shit about you."

"As if you ever did," I reply.

"Yes we did," Sarah says. "We've cared for you like you were family."

"You tried to kill me," I argue.

"No," she mutters, "we wanted to save you. This life was killing you on the inside, baby girl. You weren't standing where we are to watch yourself deteriorate. This life is not for you and you know it."

My jaw tightens but I keep my mouth shut.

"We wanted what was best for you," she continues." Death is a beautiful thing, Rachel. No more worries, no more diseases, and no more Steven."

I hold my hands over my ears. "Just shut up," I tell her. "I don't want to hear your lies anymore."

Kenny unleashes an unhealthy fit of giggles, "Girlfriend, this place must really be driving you crazy if you think you're getting off this easy. We have a whole uninterrupted week together."

She keeps her word. When the time comes for me to join the others, I couldn't be happier. She has spent hours upon hours talking my ears off. I didn't catch one ounce of sleep. Bite marks decorate both of my arms, showing my desperation to make them disappear. I thought if I try hard enough to convince myself they're not real they would go away. Each bite, however, fueled them for another full hour of endless talk.

Carla keeps quiet when she comes to fetch me out of the room. I know she noticed the blood spot on my shirt where I bit too hard.

I willed her to say something but she only cleans the wounds. She doesn't question. She doesn't lecture. She simply goes on with her day and let me to go on with mine.

For the first time in my life, I want someone to question me. I want them to ask me about my entire life. I want someone to want to discover my secrets. I want someone to force me to tell them everything.

I thought mental hospitals were big on making their patients talk, why isn't anyone forcing me to talk yet?

The only thing they force me to here is participation. After my shower, I spend the rest of the day hopping from activities to activities as if they don't want me to have time by myself.

By the time night falls, I'm a quivering mess of fatigue muscles. I fall on the bed clothed. Daisy is already snoring while snuggling a teddy bear.

I turn on my side, eyes set on the white walls. The quietness is killing me. I've finally tune out Sarah and Kenny but now there are no other sounds. I heave a heavy sigh, ready to spend another night with my eyes open until my gaze falls on a small rectangular piece of paper on my bedside table.

I reach for it. It's Dr. Frey's contact information. The one I thought I've thrown away long ago.

"Rachel, don't," Sarah warns. Her voice startles me. "I know what you're thinking. It's not worth it. It's not going to make you feel better."

Kenny chuckles, "You're talking as if she's capable of ever doing something right. I give up, we're just going to watch her waste away inside this nut house. Such a waste of so much potential."