She looked at me all expectant, like I was going to throw my arms around her and thank her for the best present ever.
I spat the toothpaste out and then said, "okay,” before I resumed brushing my teeth. Once I was done, I cast a glance at the shower. “Do you mind if I wash up?”
For a brief moment, it looked like she would balk, but then she tapped a finger to her chin and said, "Very well. I think you've earned a shower. We have to leave the door open. I’ll be just out here, so I can help immediately. You know to pull the string if anything happens?” At my nod, she motioned to the shower. “Go ahead and warm up the water, I’ll get your morning pills then you can shower.”
Without hesitation, I turned the knob and got the water flowing. I didn’t care if it was hot or cold, I just wanted to wash the ick off my skin. A cold shower might even be preferable. As much as I wanted to just strip off and get in the shower, I waited. The last thing I wanted was for her to drag an orderly in here and haul me out because I broke the rules.
She hustled back in with a little paper cup of pills. A blue one, a pink one, a yellow one, and two little white ones. Just what I always wanted. I accepted them obediently and tossed all of them into my mouth, then washed them down with the small glass of water she brought. After, I opened my mouth so she could check and just huffed a breath of minty fresh air at her. She blinked and rather than checking any further, she nodded and left me alone.
As soon as I was under the water, I shoved two fingers down my throat and gagged. The pills came right up, I hadn’t swallowed them so much as held them at the roof of my mouth, then dry swallowed. They got stuck and all of them came right back up.
“All good?” she called after I coughed.
“Yes,” I called back. Not even a lie. I was better without the pills. Who knew that the few bouts I’d had with forcing myself to purge could payoff? Well, payoff in an unintended fashion. The damage I’d begun to do with the constant vomiting could have gotten me kicked from performance, so I stopped.
Starving was another option. Cutting all the calories. But now I had the pills in my hand and nowhere to dispose of them. The drain had a tight grate over it, the pills wouldn’t fit. The door was open. She would see if I went to the toilet. It took some time, but I ground the pills up as much as I could with the hot water and the soap. The capsules split open, spilling the contents down to wash away.
There were just a few little bits left and I wiped them on a towel. Hopefully the soap would hide them. As much as I wanted to linger in the shower forever, I couldn’t. Once my skin was all pink from the heat, I stepped out to dry off. A new set of pajamas waited for me on my freshly made bed. Gray ones, just like everything else in this place.
Two hours after my shower, I questioned why I hadn’t just taken the damn pills. I couldn’t stand being here the more awareness swarmed through. My skin crawled. I had memories of this place. Disjointed fragments where I was terrified and others where I was just in pain. There were hands. Faces. So many blurred and shadows.
How many times had he sent me here?
All at once, a singular memory crystallized of the doctor talking to my uncle. Sending me away for treatment.
And it was not the first time.
Three weeks. He wanted me here for at least three weeks—while he had surgery. A smile escaped me and I couldn’t help it. Sitting in the middle of this room full of strangers talking about their lives and their issues and I wanted to laugh. My uncle had to have surgery because I hurt him. I’d damaged his knee.
Oh, I hoped I got to tell Liam all about it someday. For all his scolding over the last few days—or was it weeks? Months? God, I hope it hadn’t been months. I needed to tell him that I’d done what he’d taught me to do. I’d fought like hell and I hurt the person who hurt me.
I just wished it had hurt him more, or that I’d gotten away.
When it was my turn to talk in the group, I just shook my head, saying nothing.
The therapist, a woman with the most gentle voice, said, “I know this is scary. We’re all strangers. But at the same time, no one is a stranger here. We’re all here for you. Aren't we?"
"Yes," nearly every person in that room said in almost the same monotone. If it were possible, my skin would have shivered right off my body. That was the creepiest shit ever.
"I’m happy for you that you’re not all strangers. Unfortunately, everyone in my life is and I was taught to never talk to strangers.” My throat was scratchy by the end of that. It was more words than I intended to say.
The therapist nodded slowly. She acted like I just said something super profound. Whatever. Then she said, "Well, if that's the case, strangers become friends because you talk to them. How do you make friends if you never talk to a stranger?"
Well, she looked pleased with herself.
Too bad.
"I don't have any friends."
Shock rippled across her face and then she frowned. "Sweetheart, I’m sure that’s not true. You have friends and you have family. "
“You know what they say about assuming.”
The girl sitting next to me, who couldn’t have been more than a year or two younger than I was, started snickering. Like me, she’d been silent through the whole session. From her dyed black hair to her too pale skin, she had the look of someone escaping her own private hell. The therapist glared at her, but my neighbor was unrepentant.
"Honey,” she said, the peculiar inflection on the endearment echoing the therapist's empty sweetness. “If your family is anything like mine, we’d rather they were strangers. That would be better, right?"
She wasn't wrong. The only member of my family I really wanted to get to know, really was a stranger.
Milo. I had a brother.
The sense of wonder and confusion collided inside of me as I tried to reconcile those two concepts. I’d forgotten about him for a moment there. But I had a brother. A brother I'd never known, but who had known all about me.
Adopted.
I was adopted.
I wasn’t even a real Sharpe.
Laughter bubbled up inside of me. I caught my neighbor’s eye and grinned. She smiled right back at me.
“Fuck strangers,” I said. “Fuck them all.”
She high-fived me and the therapist groaned. At least I didn't have the talking group anymore. Lunch time was still in my room. I hadn’t earned the privilege of eating in the communal lunchroom.
Whatever.
At least in my room for a few minutes, I was allowed to be by myself without someone staring at me… Well, presumably without someone staring at me, they had cameras, so I could be under observation and not know it.
Still, they couldn’t see inside my head. The whole time I ate, I turned over the concept of my brother in silence. The brother my uncle threatened if I didn't come home. The brother who had grown up with a group of friends so tight they were willing to kidnap me to protect me. They'd kill people for each other.
What would it be like to be the recipient of all that loyalty…
They had killed for me.
They had shown me that loyalty. I’d had a taste of it and it was intoxicating. At the same time, I’d battled and pushed back the whole time. Why?
My brain scrambled to hold onto the thoughts, but no sooner could I catch one than another fluttered away. It was like trying to herd a flock of birds.