Freedom of Sketch

Process Group

Yep, don't care. I return to the lengthening strip of loose skin on my thumb. It gets stuck between my teeth. I gasp when I accidentally pull it down too far into the live skin, and begin to bleed. A couple of girls look at me. I pretend not to notice their expressions of disgust at the sight of me cannibalizing my own fingers.

"Shiloh?"comes Meredith's light voice. The room is quiet. I look around at everyone staring at me. I feel myself go pale.

"Y-Yeah?"

"Do you have anything you want to share? Anything you're struggling with?" she says.

All I hear is Riley's breathing.

I shake my head. "No. The only struggle I have is being here. Obviously nothing's wrong with me. I don't belong in a place like this."

"Even though you set your school on fire?" a girl from across the room challenges. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and her squinty dark eyes are focused on me. She plays with a rubber band, occasionally snapping it against her wrist.

"Um, no...?" I say. "I thought I made it clear during that one group that I never did anything like that."

"You mean the group where you said that you weren't crazy... like the rest of us?" The moisture in the air crystallizes into ice, spreading over skin, fabric, and glass like a fine white mold. It crackles like static in my head.

"I remember!" Violet says. "You were all like, 'I don't need to be here 'cause I'm not a cutter or an anorexic or a druggie, blahblah'. Ugh. You're pathetic."

"Violet," Meredith warns, "you're starting to become aggressive. We should explore why Shiloh feels as though she doesn't need to be here, not attack her for her feelings."

Violet leans back into the couch with a defiant "hmmppff!"

The rubber band girl raises her hand.

"Yes, Alyssa?" Meredith says.

She sniffs. "Can I tell Shiloh why she belongs here?"

"You mean can you tell Shiloh why you feel as though she belongs here?"

Alyssa nods, her messy bun quivering perilously on the crown of her head.

Meredith: "Okay, but proceed cautiously. Do not turn this into a fight or a blame game. Shiloh, this is Alyssa's opinion, okay?"

I bury my hands in the pockets of my sweatshirt. "Okay." I shouldn't care about what this psycho has to say to me. But deep inside my stomach, I feel sick with humiliation already.

Alyssa: "So you've been here like what, a week? I'm not trying to sound creepy, but I've, like, watched you get pissed off and stuff. That first morning you got here, you threw a tantrum because you didn't want to take your meds."

"It wasn't a tantrum!" I tighten my hands into hard fists.

"Word choice," Meredith reminds Alyssa.

"Right. Sorry. You acted out because you didn't want to take your meds. And then you have - I mean, you act out again, after visitation with that lady I guess is your mom. You have problems. And maybe they're different from ours, but they're still problems. And you're really negative. You call this place the loony bin, and you're always mad at staff when they're just doing their jobs."

Meredith's voice punctures the wall of anger I've built. "Use more 'I feel' statements, Alyssa. You're throwing a lot of 'you, you, you' at Shiloh."

Alyssa adjusts herself and talks to the rubber band tangled among her fingers. "I feel as though you make things worse for yourself by fighting everyone and everything. I feel like you're not taking responsibility for your problems... and you do have problems."

A girl I figured was asleep the whole time lifts her head as though sniffing the air, weighing each side of the conflict. She looks like a limp sweater that was flung over the arm of the couch, but her body takes shape when she sits up and raises her hand.

"Yes, Talia?" says Meredith.

Talia pulls her choppy black hair into a short ponytail and clears her throat. "Alyssa, I feel like that's not for you to decide. I feel like you're judging her the same way she allegedly judged you, and I also feel like Shiloh's 'problems' are between her and her shrink. They're none of your business."

Alyssa opens her mouth, but Meredith intervenes. "I think things are getting too hostile within this conversation." She looks down at her small silver wristwatch. "We're almost out of time, anyway--"

"--Yeah, I'm done. I'm over this," I say, lurching myself up out of the beanbag chair. I cut a jagged path across the room, stepping around wide-eyed girls sitting in more beanbags, or leaning against the couch. I make sure to slam the door behind myself on my way out.

***

"Hey... hey!" I hear sticky, rubber-treaded footsteps hurrying behind me. "Wait!" The girl who came to my defense catches up. "Shiloh," she pants, "slow down!"

I stop, arms still folded. The girl leans over and presses her hands against her thighs, breaths heavy and hungry, as though she's surfacing from a pool after a lifetime of being underwater. "Asthma," she wheezes, pale eyes glancing sheepishly up at me.

"Take your time." I wonder what she wants.

She finally stands, stretching her long arms with a little cough. I hear the air bubbles crackling down her spine. "So." She flashes a brief smile.

"So...?" I echo.

"Are you okay?" she pushes.

"Not really, no," I say.

She nods once. "Sorry. I'm not known to be the best at talking to people. I just... I just notice that you're always alone."

I flash my gaze toward The Lounge. "Yeah, because I'm like, soooo popular with them."

"There doesn't have to be an 'us' or a 'them'," Talia says quietly.

Me: "Is that something your therapist said to you?"

Talia shrinks back from the coldness in my voice. "I just was wondering if maybe you didn't want to be alone so much anymore." It feels as though Talia is offering her friendship like it's something she's wrapped up in a pretty little box with a bow, cupped in her outstretched hands. I don't have the energy to deal with anything, let alone a hospital friend.

I sag into the wall and slide to the floor, drawing my knees to my chest. Talia crouches next to me. We don't say anything for awhile. I'm quiet because I'm tired, but Talia is quiet because she doesn't want to scare me away or talk me to shreds. I want her to know I appreciate this, but that would require speaking, and I don't have the strength. So we wait.