Song: Circus for a Psycho -Skillet
6 years later
"I will ask one more time today, Eleanor. When did it all start?" the doctor asks. Again.
"I already told you," I say, rolling my eyes, tracing my finger absent-mindedly across the table between us. "You asked the same thing last week. And every week before that. I started seeing the symbols six years ago, when I was seven. I tried on my great-great-grandfather's glasses. I fell and something fell in my eye, and I've been seeing the symbols ever since. My story hasn't changed since the first time you asked, Dr. Cranston."
The doctor sighs, like he always does. He thinks I'm lying. Or that I made my own reality or something. I mean, come on. I'm thirteen, not five!
"Maybe we should up your medicine dosage. You have been taking it, haven't you?"
I pause. "Well..."
"Eleanor," Dr. Cranston presses.
"No," I admit, deflating in my chair. Then, before he can get angry, I rush out, "But only because every time I take it, all it does is make me nauseous and dizzy. It doesn't make me quit seeing the symbols. Sometimes it even makes them more vivid."
Dr. Cranston rubs his temples the way Dad does when he has a headache. He doesn't look at me. Just gets up and leaves. I hear him enter the next room, where my parents and big brother, Sam, are.
"As far as I can tell, she hasn't improved any," I hear Dr. Cranston saying. "She admitted to not taking her medications. Have you considered sending her back to the Memorial psych ward? They may be able to reach her in a way I cannot."
I tense, pulling my legs up and to my chest. I don't want to go back. Not there. I only got out a couple months ago and still have nightmares about it. The doctors there are mean, and they never listen to what I have to say. They would hurt me and strap me down to the bed, running test after test while I was wide awake.
~~Flashback~~
"Make it stop!" I beg as a male nurse straps me down. "Please, please, make it stop! Please!"
"Shut up, Witwicky," the nurse spits, slapping me hard across the face.
But I can't. The symbols are flying around my mind. I have to get them out. But I can't, not while my wrists and ankles are strapped down.
"Let me up!" I yell. "Let me up! I'll do anything! Just let me get them out of my head!"
My yelling turns to nonsensical screaming as an electrical shock passes through me. The nurse has begun his testing. They only test me when the symbols are flying. It seems to go on for hours. The pain and the symbols never stopping, the straps digging into my wrists and ankles, leaving bruises.
I can only manage to whimper as the pain diminishes, and I shake uncontrollably. I just want to be out of this place. For good. Please, someone get me out!
I hear music blasting from outside, and turn my head to face a window. I can see a beat up yellow car driving away, the lyrics fading. But I hear them. A message for the broken.
"When you've been fighting for it all your life
You've been working every day and night
That's a how a superhero learns to fly
Every day, every hour, turn that pain into power"
The next day, I overhear the female nurses saying that the nurse who tested on me the day before had been in a car accident, and the other driver had just driven off like it was nothing.
~~End Flashback~~
"No, she's not going back there," Sam interupts. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. He's the only one I ever told about what happened in that psych ward. "She's doing fine at home. Sure, she still sees things, but it's not like she's hurt anyone."
"Sam's right," Mom insists. "As long as she hasn't hurt anyone, I don't see why she can't stay at home."
As soon as we're home, I run into my room, grab a notebook, flip it open and start drawing out the symbols running through my head.
"I have to get them out, or they really will drive me crazy," I mutter to Sam, already knowing he's followed me up here. "I can't make them stop, Sam."
"I know, El," Sam whispers, sitting and placing his back against mine. "I know."
We sit like this for a long time, and I draw until the symbols slow, finally releasing my mind. For now, at least.
"Tomorrow is a big day," Sam tells me, ignoring my notebook. It's become a kind of 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' in this house, even the one's painted on my wall. "If I make an A on my report, I'll be able to get my car."
"Finally," I laugh, laying my head back on my brother's shoulder. "You're almost seventeen!"
"Shut up," Sam says, leaning back, squishing me onto my stomach. I try to push back, but he's a lot stronger than me.
"Ok, I'm tired," I announce when Sam lets me up. "Get out, so I can sleep."
Sam laughs at me, before hugging me goodnight and going next door to his room.
I'm woken by my brother repeating my name over and over. He sounds worried. But I can't focus on anything but the symbols flying circles around my brain.
"N-notebook," I manage to stutter out.
Immediately, Sam hands me a notebook, already open to an empty page, and a pencil. I begin scribbling the symbols frantically. When the montage slows down, I look up at my brother, silently asking what happened.
"You were shaking," he tells me. "Like you were having a nightmare or something."
"Thanks for waking me," I mutter, embarrassed. I don't know why I asked. He wakes me most nights, always for the same reason. I almost never sleep through the night without a 'trance', so I'm always tired.
"It's almost time to get ready for school," Sam smiles, but it's an almost pitying smile. "Don't worry, you didn't wake me."
I nod and Sam leaves my room. I sit still on my bed for a moment, not wanting to move. Eventually, however, I get up, put on some clothes, and brush my hair and teeth. I take my notebook and a black marker and get in the car so Dad can take me to school. All other supplies is provided by the school. Well, for my class at least. The Special class.
The school day starts off normal. It's numbers day, so half the class is working on counting, and the other half, my half, is working on addition. Well, Felipe, the blind boy, is working on reading braille numbers. I quickly become bored. I'm smart, just not always "there", according to Dr. Cranston. He's the reason I'm in the Special classes. Frankly, I don't know what he means. I'm obviously here. I mean, my attendance is near perfect.
"Eleanor," Mrs. Hutchins calls, breaking me out of my thoughts. Only then do I realize that I've been doodling symbols all over my paper.
"Yes, ma'am," I answer nervously.
Mrs. Hutchins simply walks over and holds out her hand. Sighing, I hand over my pencil and paper. She walks away to continue her lesson, believing that I am all out of resources. She's wrong. I have my black marker in the pocket of my hoodie. But my notebook is across the room. No way she'll let me go get it so I can keep drawing.
But I have to keep drawing the symbols. They fly through my mind, getting faster and faster. I have to let them out, but she took my pencil. I can't do anything here, not without getting in trouble.
"Bathroom," I blurt as I stand and rush into the class' private restroom.
I sit on the floor and yank up my hoodie sleeves. Taking my marker, I begin scrawling the strange symbols on my arms, not stopping until I can think clearly. Both my forearms are covered.
"Eleanor, is everything alright?" I hear Mrs. Hutchins calling from the door.
"Yes ma'am," I reply, standing and looking in the mirror. The girl who stares back at me looks strange, compared to what I'm told is normal. She has two different eye colors, one brown and one blue, short, messy brown hair, and freckles all across her face. She is thin, thinner than the average eighth grader, shorter than the rest of her class, too, and looks as though she could easily break.
I huff as I turn away from the mirror, pulling down my sleeves to cover the symbols. I open the door and walk past Mrs. Hutchins and to my seat, not even bothering to flush the toilet as if I had actually used the bathroom for its intended purpose. If I'm lucky, the rest of the day will go smoothly.
"What's the word?" I ask Sam as I buckle in to the back seat of the car.
"A-," Sam grins. "But it's an A. We're going to buy my car now."
(AN: Lyrics in the chapter are not from media at the top. They are from the song Superheroes by The Script.)