Chapter 1

She looked at me like I was crazy, like I was insane. I wasn't but she seemed to think so, she put me in this place anyways. She flipped her shoulder length black hair out of her face and gave me yet another disappointed look. It was a look I was used to. One I grew up with. One I learned to live with. Everyone gave me this look, but the mostly it came from the woman facing me. This is my story, the pain, the suffering, and how everyone thought I was crazy.
The woman in front of me happened to be my mother, Melinda. I refused to call her mother since she put me in the home. We looked much the same, and yet so different. I was a foot taller than her, but we still had the same face; the same eyes, the same nose, the same mouth. The only thing different was that her face was withered from age and wrinkles were starting to form. My hair had grown out to about my waist, which I held back in a pony-tail constantly. Melinda had come to visit me, I hadn't seen her in about a year, when she put me in too this hell hole.
"You haven't changed much," I said quietly, looking down at the floor. I didn’t want to look at her.
Melinda spoke harshly to me, "Neither have you, Christine. It looks like you’re the same as you were."
I don’t know how to respond to this. Melinda was always like this, since the day I was born. I had never met my father because of it. She had told me that he was fed up with her and stormed out, I can't blame him. If I were him, I would have done the same thing. I'm glad he did, he doesn’t have to deal with her anymore; I wish I didn’t.
"So how are they treating you here?" She asked with a scowl, she hadn’t spoke nicely to me ever, and now wasn’t going to be the first time.
"Good," I lied. I didn’t want to tell her the truth. I hated it here; this wasn't a good place at all. The other patients made no sense, the group sessions we had to take made me want to jump off the roof, and I hated the staff. I have had horrible experiences with the staff. This was about the worst hospital you could ever go to, but of course Melinda had to pick the South California Hospital for the Mentally Ill. God that makes me sound like a psychopath!
"That’s good, I guess," she replied.
I looked at the ground with a blank expression, "Yea."
She only visited for an hour, before getting tired of me and leaving. I didn’t hug her or anything, I just watched as she walked out the door. Not a wave, nope, nothing. The door shut and a staff member locked it, leaving me standing there with nothing to do.
"Christine,” I heard my name and turned around to find Mrs. Peterson, the only staff member I liked and the only person I talked to in this place, "I know you probably don't like it, but you have to go to group soon. You should probably start heading down there."
I nodded and started walking down the hallway towards group.
You're probably wondering why I am in here. Well you know about Melinda, but that’s not the whole story of course. It was a year or so ago, Melinda and I were sitting at the dinner table, we had both just finished.
"Why do you eat so much? You're fat enough," Melinda said viciously. I had barely touched any of my food. I was almost under-weight too. Melinda was always the type of person who wanted perfection. Blonde hair, blue eyes, skinny, pretty. At 16, I didn't meet any of those qualifications. I had black hair, brown eyes, almost skinny enough for Melinda to approve, and I was nerdy looking.
I couldn't help myself, and before I had a chance to think I blurted out, "And why do you talk. Aren’t you a psycho bitch enough?" I gasped and clamped my hand over my mouth.
Melinda stood up, this was the angriest I have ever seen her. "What the fuck did you just call me?" She screamed. I was scared; I didn't know what she was going to do. "I'm the psycho bitch? Then what the fuck does that make you? You are the fucking psychotic one here! You belong in a fucking mental hospital! Why can't you be a better daughter? Why do I have to have the worst daughter ever? I'm putting you in the fucking hospital, where you belong!"
Well that’s pretty much how I ended up here. Apparently Melinda told them that I was suicidal, which I am nowhere near, but I might be if I stay in this hospital any longer, but they took me in and now I am stuck here.
I arrived at group a couple minutes early and took a seat next to the window where I always sat. It was the seat with the best view, you could actually see through the bars on the window to the mountains and forest that surrounded this place. I thought the view was beautiful the hospital was the thing that wasn't. I never actually participated in group, just stared out the window. When group ended I got up and walked back to my room. I was one of the unlucky ones who got a room to their selves. You'd think that would be a good thing, except you learned what the staff really does to their patients at night.
I laid in bed, waiting for Mr. Scary, I never knew his real name, but I hated him so much. He abused me every night. Time seemed to go so slow tonight, like it took days for each second to go by. The air felt heavy in my lungs, I glanced over at the clock. It was only eleven o'clock. Suddenly there was a knock at the door and I jumped a foot in the air. It was him. He came with a cart, he always did, it was his cover up so no one else knew what was happening, but I think they really did.
Mr. Scary was about in his late thirties but looked to be in his fifties. His skin had wear and tear, as if he had been out in the sun every day for years. Wrinkles were starting to form upon his face, also giving him an older look. He was nicely shaved, always, and well groomed, but smelled of dead cats.

He pushed the cart into my room, it was empty, like usual, and I sat up in bed. He started to unbuckle his belt and take off his scrubs. I knew the drill and striped. What happened next, I am ashamed of, and I wish it were to never happen but it did. These were the reasons I hated this place. I wish I was never here. I would have picked anything over this.

Chapter 2

"Christine?" a small voice called. I opened my eyes to find the white ceiling of my room. I was lying on my hard bed, aching all over. "Christine? Are you awake?" it called again. I couldn't figure out where it was coming from. I sat up slowly, trying to ignore the slight pain in my body. Looking around I found no one but my room. Movement by the door and I looked over to see Mrs. Peterson poking her head in the door. She saw that I had gotten up and walked quietly into the room. She brought me a small container of medication that the hospital had prescribed to all the patients. They were supposed to make us calm, but I thought they were just a plain waste.
I swallowed them in one gulp of water, and Mrs. Peterson gave me a small smile full of care. I knew she felt bad for me, she knew my really story she knew my life, she knew what happened here, she new everything. I liked her; she was the only one I liked.
Mrs. Peterson was a foot short than I was. She had short, blonde hair and baby blue eyes that seemed to sparkle like diamonds every time she saw me. She always had the biggest smile too. She seemed to be the only sane one, out of the staff, in the hospital. Her blue uniform and nice white shoes seemed to be well taken care of and never seemed to get dirty. Mrs. Peterson visited mote twice a day, once in the morning and once in the afternoon. The morning visit was to give me my medications and the afternoon was to see how I was doing. She cared a lot for me and the same was returned. I loved her like a mother, and she treated me like her daughter that she could never have, this job wouldn't allow the time and she just couldn't have kids. She practically lived here, but she loved her job.
"So how are you doing?" She asked.
I frowned. The truth was that I wasn't doing well at all, I hated it here and I hated everyone here, and she knew it, but I lied anyways. "Fine."
She looked at me with a small disappointed look, "How are you really doing?"
"I hate it here! I hate everyone here! "
"I know, I'm sorry dear. I wish I could do something about it, but I can't." She frowned.
"It's okay, I know you can't. It's not your fault I'm in here."
"It's not okay, what your moth- I mean Melina- did to you was wrong. You are not crazy."
"Thank you for believing in me. At least someone does and doesn't think I’m totally crazy!"
"You welcome, and of course I don't."
I didn't say anything back but gave her a small smile. It was nice to have someone believe in me for a change. I liked the feeling. Ever since I was born, I was never paid attention to, never trusted, never believed in. Mrs. Peterson was like the mother I always wanted, but never could have, and it was nice to have someone in this place.
"I got a question," I said.
She looked up at me, "Yes?"
"If you know what goes on here, why don't you say something?" I asked. This was one of the several questions that had been bothering me. She did know what was happening here, but never seemed to say anything about it to anyone.
She looked down, her smile faded and a frown had appeared in its place. She replied in a quiet tone, "I have. I tried, but nothing happened. I have tried many times. I never lost hope though and I am still trying, but no one seems to want to listen. No one believes me, they think that it is all a lie, or a scam, or something of that sort."
I looked at her for a moment. Not knowing how to respond. So all these years she had been trying but I didn't know she had been. After a few moments I finally responded.
"Oh, I didn't know."
"I know, I should have told you, but I didn't. I don't know why I didn’t." I didn't know what to say to that. Every time I opened my mouth, words wouldn't come out. I didn't want to say something stupid that would make her feel bad or something like that. I was astonished at what she did for me, but it did not surprise me that no one would do anything about it, that was just how this place worked. She really did care about her patients and wanted to do whatever she could to help them. Though, it didn't always work out in her favor. The point her was that she actually did try.
We sat the in silence for a few minutes, unsure of what to say next. She looked up at the clock and said, "I have to go. I'll try to be back if I can before I leave, maybe it will save you from another night, if you know what I mean," she meant Mr. Scary, "I will see what I can do."
I nodded and said thank you before she turned to leave. Mrs. Peterson took a step away from me and I quickly grabbed her arm. She spun around to face me. "Seriously, thank you. Thank you for everything you have done." I gave her a smile and she walked of the room. Suddenly the room felt empty and cold. I didn't like when she left, I felt safe when she was around.

It wasn't even five minutes before I heard a knock at my door and a small voice asking if anyone was here. I slowly got up and walked quietly to the door. Only to open it to see a face I knew, my sister.

Chapter 3

"Sierra? What are you doing here?" I asked.
Sierra was the sister that Melinda had never told me about. She had thrown her out on the streets, not able to take care of her, when she was very little. Sierra was five years older than I was, but we looked like twins. I found her on the internet and kept in touch with her that way. Melinda never found out that I was talking to Sierra. I don’t know what she would do if she found out that I was, so I never risked it.
I studied her for a moment. Even though we did look much alike, I still thought she was way prettier than I was. The way her long brown hair flowed in perfect waves, the way her brown eyes shined in the light, her perfect complexion. It was a look that made every girl want to look like her and every guy want to have her. To tell the truth, I was a little jealous. She had a personally to match. Sierra was always very kind, sweat, and was never mean to anyone, that I know of anyways. She was the perfect girl and I, her sister, seemed too unworthy to be in her presence.
It also didn't help that I didn’t have the best self-confidence in the world. Not once had I ever been called pretty, or told that I was kind or anything of that sort. I grew up being called ugly, fat, worthless, or even a mistake; all by my parents never the less. I always thought it was the truth too. I struggled to please everyone and did whatever it would take, but nothing ever seemed to please anyone. Never realizing that what I was doing was a huge waste.
Finally she spoke. "I come to save you," she replied in a whisper. I looked in the hallway and pulled her into my room after making sure it was clear. I locked my door and gestured her to sit down. She took a seat in the small couch like seat.
"What do you mean you came to save me?" No outsider knew of the things that went on here, so how could she know. Another thing that confused me was how she got in here this late. Visiting hours were over hours ago.
Sierra flipped her hair back. Holding one of her arms she looked down, as if a little uncomfortable. "And how did you get in here so late?"
"I know everything that happens here, and I was hiding. I know about the abuse, about the guy that goes around at night, Mrs. Peterson, e-"
I hadn't even given her a chance to finish before I started to throw questions at her at a million miles per hour. "But how do you know about this?" I waved my hands around the room. "About Mr. Scary? About Mrs. Peterson? How?" I had so many questions.
"I used to live here just like you do now."
My eyes grew wide and I flinched. "B-but w-what?" I kept stuttering. I was astonished at what I had just learned. "H-how? When? What?"
"Mother, she put me in here, after throwing me out onto the streets. I lived by myself for about a year, that's when she found me," she frowned. "She apparently was following me, watching me from a distance. I had no idea that she was doing it, or why she was doing it exactly, but one day she told me to get into the car and that she had food and a place to live. I hadn't recognized her until I got into the car and that’s when I knew I was screwed. She drove and drove until we arrived here. At first, I had no idea where I was, what this place was, but I soon found out. Mother said that I was suicidal. She probably told them the same thing for you, didn’t she?" I nodded. "Every night that guy came in and did terrible things to me. I hated it, I wanted to die, I even tried to kill myself but they stopped me before I could. I was then put under watch for awhile.'
'That’s when I met Mrs. Peterson. She was the best thing to happen to me in my life, but I still couldn't stay here. Eventually Mrs. Peterson got me out of here and I disappeared. I lived back on the streets for another year, but it was still better then here, that was until I found a home for unwanted and homeless children. I went there and they found me a nice family," she was now smiling. "They take good care of me, I am lucky to be there."
I cut her off. "What are you trying to get at here?"
"I want to get you out of here. I told my new family about you and they said that they would be glad to take you in."
"W-wait! You mean you could get me out of here?" I asked. She nodded her head.
This was great news! I wouldn’t have to deal with this place anymore. No more abuse, no more meds, no more Mr. Scary. There was only one problem, I couldn't leave Mrs. Peterson. Not now anyways.
I held a blank expression on my face unsure what to say now. After a few moments of thought, I managed to say something. "I'd have to think about it."
"But what is there to think about? You’d have a family, food, loving people," she paused, "me."
I frowned. She wasn’t making this any easier. I looked towards the ground trying to escape the sight of her eyes, full of confusion and plea. I wanted to say yes so badly but I just couldn’t do it, not now anyways.
"Let me just think about it. Please."
She nodded and stood. "Well I guess I got to go. I'll come back tomorrow I guess. Love yah sis." And with that she was out the door and gone, leaving me to wonder if she would actually come back.

Chapter 4

Waiting was a torture to me. My patience was running low. I was eager to find out if she was really coming back. Chances were, she probably wasn't.
Plopping down on my bed I let out a small sigh and fell back. I laid half on, half off, my bed, staring at my ceiling. Questions, like always, gathering in my head. I was deaf to the world at this moment, time to myself. I liked times like this, when I could be in my own little world, nobody to interfere, no body to bother me. Quiet surrounded me. It was peacefully, it was quite nice. I tried to go through my questions, seeing if I could actually answer them, but I realized most of them I can't. So many questions that I would never find an answer to. They would always be there no matter what I did to remove them, but at the moment that wasn't really my biggest problem.
I spent the rest of the day by myself. It was a nice change for once. Usually there were always someone visiting my small little room. I still haven't figured out how more than one person had enough room to walk in these rooms. I felt like this room was big enough to be a walk in closet, barely.
I should of slept if I would of known if I was going to be alone. Since that was out of the option now, I decided it would be best to take a nice stroll until I had to go to my daily meeting. I hated them with a great passion, I really did.
The hallway was empty. So bland, so dead. I started out the door and down the hallways quietly. Making sure that I didn't make a noise. Whoever decorated this place really should of either been shot of just beaten until they figured out how to actually match colors. The bare walls were a off-white-attempt. They weren't exactly off-white. A dark-green wavy stripe ran along the middle. I have no idea why they put that there. The floors were gray and white tiled. All of the colors clashed. And it didn't help that occasionally there would be a red chair along the wall. I have no idea what they were thinking. Did they really think this looked good?
Once and awhile I pass a room where the door was open. Usually it was because a nurse was in there taking care of the patients. No one kept their door open if the nurse wasn't there. We had no reason, and it gave us a little privacy. To me, it gave me a little piece of mind. Like everything was okay for once.
If someone asked me today if I missed my old life, I wouldn't really know how to respond. I do some parts, but no to others. I miss my school, the few friends I had, my sister, things like that. I don't miss my family and especially my mother. I would never want to go back to that. Never. Not even to get out of this hell hole.
So I don't exactly know what I would tell them, though I don't think I will ever know what to. There are just some things, like that for an example, that I have mixed feelings about. That I will never know. That I can never answer with a definite answer. But I realize now, sort of, that I really don't need an answer, because in the end, I have no choice in this decision. I don't think I ever will, and I just have to learn to accept how it is, cause that's just it.
"Oomph," I said as I ran into someone. "I'm so sorry. Please excuse me."
"It's alright, miss," he said. I felt like I recognized the voice, but I didn't look up to check, instead I walked around him. What was with the familiar voices lately, anyways?
I suddenly realize that he didn't keep walking. He just stood there looking at me.
"Hey, where are you going?" He asked, arm outstretched towards me.
I stopped walking. This time I did turn around to look.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 10.12.2012

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Widmung:
To all those who have been mistreated, misused, and have loss hope. Stay strong and you can get through anything. Fight through it and you can stand on top of the world. You just have to stay strong, never lose hope, and believe in yourself, no matter what!