Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud rap on her door. She looked up to see a girl in her early twenties standing in the doorway. She had shortish black hair tied into pigtails with rainbow scrunchies. She wore a long-sleeved, tie-dyed shirt and baggy jeans. Extremely pale, with light blue eyes, she could have been mistaken for a boldly-dressed, adorable ghost.
“How ya’ doin’, newbie?” she asked warmly.
“Um, okay,” Hannah replied, not sure what to make of this person.
“Well don’t get used to it,” the girl said grimly. “Your official hazing starts in two minutes out back. The Newbie Committee has pillowcases filled with potatoes and we’ll be beating you with them until you pass out. But if you don’t cry or rat us out, you’re golden for the rest of your stay.”
“What?” Hannah asked, open-mouthed.
The girl broke into a wide smile.
“I’m just screwing with you,” she said. “That was the whole ‘hazing’ thing right there. I’m actually the entirety of the Newbie Committee, which is really more of a welcoming committee. Welcome. I’m Meredith Bartlett, but you can call me Merry.”
“Hi Meredith,” Hannah said carefully. “I’m Hannah Dorsey and I’m confused.”
“Because of what I said about hazing and committees or because you’re loony tunes?” Meredith wanted to know.
“Right now—the first thing.”
“I just get bored easily,” she replied sheepishly. “I thought messing with you might add a little entertainment to my day. I didn’t mean to freak you out…too much.”
“Okay,” Hannah replied, not sure what to make of this Pippi Longstocking, hippie ghost girl. “Is there something I can do for you, Meredith?”
“Remember, it’s Merry. And actually, it’s what I can do for you that has me here.”
“What’s that?” Hannah asked.
“I know you came from the lockdown—er, ‘assistance’ wing, where they bring your meals to your room. But over here in Serenity Hall, they trust us to eat our meals together in a cafeteria setting. And considering lunch is about to start, I wanted give you a little piece of cafeteria advice. Always go for the kosher meal.”
“Why?”
Merry smiled. Hannah knew it was because she’d managed to pique her interest.
“Because even though this place charges thousands of dollars a week, very little of that cash goes into food quality, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
“I have,” Hannah acknowledged. Her tray typically consisted of some kind of mushy meat, next to soggy vegetables, burned tater tots, and a dry piece of cake. If someone wasn’t already depressed, it was enough to make them so. She hadn’t cared much as her appetite had been weak lately. But it was surprising that such a posh place had such substandard food.
“They just don’t seem to prioritize it for whatever reason,” Merry said. “But with the kosher meals, since they’re for fewer people with more specific needs, the kitchen staff is a little more creative and the selections seem a bit fresher. We’re not talking restaurant quality, more like good hospital quality.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Hannah said. “As long as you’re dispensing knowledge, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” Merry said. “I pride myself on being the Siri of the psycho set.”
“Okay,” Hannah replied, uncertain that her new acquaintance was the model spokeswoman for ending the stigma around mental health issues. “Is the visitor policy here the same as in the Assistance Wing?”
“I’m not sure,” Merry admitted. “What was it over there?”
“A maximum of two visits a week total from no more than two different people,” Hannah told her.
“There’s nothing that restrictive over here,” Merry assured her.
“Can I refuse a visit?” Hannah asked. “Over there, patients are required to attend.”
“I don’t know,” Merry said. “But why would you do that? If it were me, I wouldn’t refuse a visit from anyone. No one in my family has come to see me once since I’ve been here.”
“Sometimes that can be a good thing,” Hannah countered.
“I guess,” Merry shrugged, unconvinced. “But it seems like if someone is making the effort to trek all the way out here a few times a week, it wouldn’t hurt to give them a little time. Of course that’s just me. I don’t want to judge. Maybe your visitor abused you as a little girl or something.”
While abuse wasn’t a concern, Hannah didn’t want to get into the particulars of her dynamic with her sister and awkwardly changed subjects.
“Why hasn’t your family been out here to see you?” she asked.
Merry sighed heavily.
“There are lots of reasons. But the main one is that I think they view me kind of like a broken toy. They’re hoping that they can ship me off to the repair shop and get me back fixed. They’re not the warmest, fuzziest folks you’ll ever meet.”
“How are you broken?” Hannah asked, both afraid and excited to hear the answer.
Merry stared at her and for a brief moment, it looked like her ghostly visage might actually disappear entirely. Then, without warning, she pulled up her left sleeve to the elbow. The inside of her forearm was covered in cuts and scars all the way up from her wrist.
“I have an unusual way of dealing with stress,” she said softly.
Hannah knew about girls at her school that cut themselves. But she’d never seen the results of it live and in person. She did her best not to overreact, keeping her eyes from bulging and her breath steady.
“You must have a lot of stress,” she finally said.
“One of my therapists says stress is what you make of it,” Merry replied. “I guess I make a lot of it.”
“It doesn’t look like any of them are fresh,” Hannah noted, “So maybe you’re learning to manage it.”
Merry shook her head.
“Why do you think I only showed you my left arm?” she asked. “There’s a reason I don’t have a glass mirror in my bedroom.”
“Touché,” Hannah muttered, unsure what else to say.
Merry looked like she was about to reveal something else, but then seemed to think better of it and went with a question of her own.
“What are you in here for?”
Though Hannah knew the question was inevitable, she dreaded it, primarily because this girl had been so forthright with her and she couldn’t do the same.
“Anger management and self-harm issues,” she said blandly, using the agreed-upon diagnosis she and Dr. Lemmon had chosen prior to her arrival. Intense homicidal fantasies about murdering people just to feel something didn’t seem like an answer that would go over well.
Merry looked like she was about to pursue the matter when a loud, pleasant ringing sound, like a distant church bell, echoed over the speakers in the room.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Lunchtime,” Merry said.
Hannah shot up and started out of the room.
“Why don’t you show the newbie the way?” she asked.