Her. Part 10

"I'm fine," I lied.

"All right. One of the things I would like to talk to you about is your level. You've moved up to Level Two. This means that you can make phone calls to your family only. We have a scheduled time for phone calls in the evening. In addition, I am going to allow you to have visitors. Do you think that you can handle seeing your family?"

I looked up at him. He was looking at my chart. My insides felt like they were squis.h.i.+ng around. A feeling of guilt rose inside of me. I felt anxiety creeping in. The consequences were yet to come. If I faced them, which I knew I would have to do one day, I would be a mess. I would make my family sad all over again.

"Just my Mom," I told him.

"You wouldn't want to see anyone else? Not your brother and sister?" Dr. Cuvo looked up from my chart, trying to catch my eye.

I looked back down at my hands and shook my head in shame. I squeezed my hands together and put them between my thighs to keep them warm. The air conditioner had to have been on full blast. I held back the tears that were begging to fall. I couldn't get the vision of Nick's face out of my mind. I kept seeing his tear-drenched face when the EMTs had closed the doors to the ambulance. Nick was the one who had found me in my bedroom. Not Mom. Nick was the one who had told Mom to call 911. He was the one who had pulled the sheets from over me. Nick had seen everything that I had done first. He had seen me almost die.

I couldn't see Nick. I couldn't let him see me at Bent Creek. I wiped my eyes as the tears started to fall.

"Kristen."

I hated when he said my name with such sincerity. No man had ever said my name with that kind of concern except Jack. It was starting to make me feel a way that I didn't want to feel. It was like when Jack had danced with me. He'd made me feel like he cared for me. He'd made me feel like he wanted to protect me. Dr. Cuvo couldn't have done any of those things. Anger welled inside of me.

Dr. Cuvo pressed more. "Kristen, why are you crying?"

My knees began to knock together.

"Kristen! Kristen!" Echoes were in my head. "Kristen!" He was shouting. "Kristen! Get back here!"

The monster was chasing me. I wanted him to stop. I wanted him to get away from me. My s.h.i.+rt was suddenly around my neck, and I couldn't breathe. I was choking. I dropped the cup of water that was in my hand. The water spilled onto the cold, tile floor, and the ceramic mug broke into pieces. My feet were no longer on the floor. I started to see colorful dots as he pinned me back against the wall. My s.h.i.+rt was getting tighter around my neck. He was going to kill me to keep me from talking. I'd seen him. He was going to kill me because I'd seen him. He was hard and disgusting, and he was breathing in my face.

"How long were you watching?" Jack snapped at me.

I couldn't speak. I was blacking out. Jack saw what he was doing and let go of my s.h.i.+rt. My bare feet hit the tile, hard. I almost fell, but Jack was standing too close to me to let me fall.

"I didn't see anything," I lied.

He knew it was a lie. The tears told too much. I rubbed the back of my neck. It tingled, and it itched. I scratched at it, but the itch would not go away.

"I was tucking Nick into bed. Is that what you saw?" He backed me up into the wall. I moved my hand before the back of my head and neck hit the wall, stopping me in place and leaving me nowhere to go. Jack had trapped me.

I nodded my head. "Yes, sir. I saw you tucking Nick into bed." More tears told a different story.

"Then why were you screaming out to Nick if that's all you had seen? Why are you crying?"

What had I seen? I turned my head to look into Nick's bedroom. I just needed to see that he was in bed. I needed to see that he was tucked in. Nick was under his covers. I could see his feet dangling from under the sheets.

"What are you doing?" It was Mom.

Jack quickly backed away from me. I scuttled next to Mom. I wanted to be as far away from Jack as I could possibly be. Mom looked at Jack, and then she turned to stare at me. I looked away from her.

"Kristen," she said calmly. "Why were you yelling out to Nick?"

"I wasn't yelling," I lied. "I had a nightmare and Nick was in it. Therefore, I went to the kitchen to get some water. I got scared because Jack, um, Dad, scared me when I came from the kitchen, and then I dropped the cup and it-"

I was too nervous. I didn't know whether to tell her what had really happened. Jack was burning holes into me with his eyes. He was staring at me so sternly that it made me choke on my words. The monster was out, and I knew that monster was capable of anything. I believed that monster would have hurt us. He would have killed my family.

"It was my fault," I said. "I should have been careful. I am sorry for waking you up."

"Yes. You should have been more careful," Jack said.

The expression on Jack's face was grim. His stare made me hurt inside. I looked down at the floor. Jack walked over to Mom and kissed her cheek.

"Go back to bed, honey. I will be there in a minute. I just want to check on Alison and Nick. I'll make sure she didn't wake them up."

Mom looked concerned, so Jack kissed her again. She warmed up in his arms. She looked at me and put her hand on my shoulder. She told me to make sure I picked up all of the broken pieces so that no one would get hurt. I tried to. I wanted to pick up all of the broken pieces, but there were just too many. The monster was too powerful. He made it hurt too much.

"Have you been crying?" she asked.

As she looked at me, her eyes began to change. There was concern on her face. She looked at the broken cup on the floor. She stared down at the spilled water, and she then stared up at me. She was not just looking. She saw the shame and fear in my eyes, and at that moment, I felt that this was it. This would be the moment that I had prayed to G.o.d for. She'd say something now because she knew. She could see it. Please Mom, I thought. Please, G.o.d. Let her do something!

"You must be really tired, sweetheart." Jack said.

Jack laughed and pushed Mom along to their bedroom playfully. He got her to warm up to him without a fight. I could hear him playfully kissing and nudging on her. She was giggling and seemingly happy in her ignorance.

Hating that monster, I began picking up the broken pieces of the ceramic cup. I only wanted to get a drink of water. I only wanted to look in to see if my little brother was all right. There was nothing wrong with that. Right? I'd seen what I'd seen. I'd seen what I wasn't supposed to have seen. He would have killed me. That monster hated me so much that he would have killed me.

As I picked up the pieces, I started to wish that he had killed me. I started to wish that I were not there. I started to wish that Nick was not there. My head felt swollen. The back of my neck itched too badly. I started scratching, but I felt something wet. When I looked at my fingers, there was blood on them. I had scratched too hard, and the itch was still there. It was my nerves. I couldn't calm down. My hands were shaking. I was shaking. I was cold. I was scared. I thought to myself, was Nick all right? Was he asleep? Had I actually seen what I thought I'd seen?

I let the wound bleed. I felt the blood drip down my neck. I didn't want to wipe it. I couldn't cry with the blood running down my neck. It felt like I had missed the last train home. I was stuck in a place that was not familiar. I got all of the pieces up, and threw them in the trash. I wiped all of the water up with a few paper towels. As I went to the kitchen to throw the paper towels away, I peeked in through Nick's bedroom door. I caught him with his eyes open, but he tried to shut them before I could notice.

"I know you are awake," I said to him.

He didn't open his eyes. I whispered his name, but he didn't move. I ignored him, shut his bedroom door, and stood in front of the door. I tried to remember how I had been standing and where I had been standing. I tried to replay what I had done, to see if I could remember to make sure that I was not dreaming. I heard the floor creak behind me. I didn't turn around. I tried to hurry to the kitchen, but something caught the back of my neck. I felt more blood gush down my neck. He could have squeezed it harder and broken it, for all I cared. I didn't make a sound because I felt numb inside.

He led me to the kitchen with his hand wrapped around the back of my little neck. When we got to the kitchen, he shoved me away from him. I slowly raised my head up to look at the monster's dark and rigid face. He was calm, but his expression was frightening.

He sighed and his expression began to soften. This was a look, not of the monster, but of a long time ago. It was my Dad. I almost saw him in that moment. I felt my heart flutter. A sweet, convincing smile appeared on his face. I wanted to believe it was him. I wanted to see my Dad. I missed him so much.

"Daddy?" I called out to him to make sure it really was my Dad.

That sweet convincing smile that Daddy would always give me turned into a grimace. His mouth opened.

He said, "Kristen, I really hate you."

What was left of my Dad was gone. He had completely disappeared. A bolt of lightning had struck through my heart. It came out of his words. Thunder began to crash through my veins. Visions filled my mind.

I saw my Daddy dancing with me at the wedding. I saw my Daddy kiss me for the first time. I saw my middle school graduation where my Dad said that he was very proud of me. I saw my Dad's face when we were all in the room, watching, as the twins were born. I saw our family's first picnic. I saw my Daddy holding me in his arms when told me that everything was going to be okay and that he loved me. It was the first time my Dad had ever made me feel safe. I saw the moment that my Daddy died. I saw the moment my Daddy was devoured by a monster. He was my Dad. He was a good Dad. He loved me. I loved him. I loved a man, and that man was my Daddy.

I let my blood drip slowly into the tub. Scalding, hot water made the pain worse. There were tears. There was hot mucus. Both drenched my face, my pajamas, and the knife that I had learned to use until I couldn't cry anymore. It was like scratching the back of my neck. The itch wouldn't go away until I bled. Mr. Sharp wouldn't let me breathe until I saw blood. That was the rule. Hold my breath until I saw blood. I told Mr. Sharp that I hated myself, too. Jack wasn't the only one. Mr. Sharp said that I should hate myself because I was useless and a loser. That was why a monster had eaten Daddy. That was why Daddy had died.

Mr. Sharp lived in sharp objects. That night he'd come out of the steak knife. He'd introduced himself after the monster had said that he hated me. The monster was now Jack. Jack was the man I had met when I was six years old. Jack was the man who didn't want to get to know me before he and Mom had gotten married. Jack was the man who had been at the factory, smoking a cigarette in the back. That was Jack. He was the man that I didn't know.

I dropped the knife into the tub. Mr. Sharp picked it back up. He made me look at my arms and he made me find a place to cut. More cuts. You need more cuts. That's what he said. I looked around the bathroom. I was scared. I couldn't see this Mr. Sharp, but he had a voice.

"Stop it," I whispered. "Stop it!" I cried.

I lost complete control of what I was doing, and Mr. Sharp took over. He started slicing away at my legs. I watched as my hands gripped the knife tighter. I could hear him screaming for me to die. I cried inside. Not one tear fell out of my eyes. Please, Mr. Sharp! Stop it!

"Stop it," I said aloud.

The knife fell out of my hand and into the tub. I sat still, amazed. It was silent, and I was alone. I was afraid to look down, but I did anyway. My legs were covered in cuts. There was blood on my arms. Scared, I threw myself into the tub. The hot water burned, but it didn't stop me. I let the hot water continue to run. I pulled my knees up to my chest, and hugged my wet pajamas.

"G.o.d, if there is a way, please make it stop. Make her see. Please make her see," I whispered aloud. I closed my eyes, and a shadow of a male figure appeared. "No," I said. "Please stop it. I am going to die."

"No," Mr. Sharp said. "You are not going to die."

I looked up. Dr. Cuvo was staring at me. "Were you asleep?"

I couldn't remember what had been the last word said. I wiped at my eyes. I was barely here. I felt like I was still sleeping. I was in the tub of hot water. The water was getting cold. It was cold in the room with Dr. Cuvo. It was cold in the tub with Mr. Sharp. My st.i.tches! I had to get out of the water. I looked up at Dr. Cuvo.

I couldn't get out of the water. Mr. Sharp stared at me from inside. He was laughing. My neck was itching. The knife was no longer in the tub. I couldn't find it. I had no control over this dream. There was no knife, but Mr. Sharp was there. He wanted something. Getting scared, I opened my mouth to speak to Dr. Cuvo, but Mr. Sharp covered my mouth with his hand.

Dr. Cuvo saw that I'd started to say something. He couldn't see that Mr. Sharp was making me stay quiet.

"What is it, Kristen?" he asked with concern. "What do you want to say?"

He was trying to help me. Mr. Sharp wanted me to stay in my place. He wanted me to be angry. Mr. Sharp never said anything to me. He wanted me to know what it was that I already knew, which was everything that he knew, but what he didn't have to say. He dragged me out of the tub and made me stand in the room across from Dr. Cuvo in his office. Dr. Cuvo saw that I was standing.

"It's not time to go yet," he said. "Please sit down, Kristen." Dr. Cuvo's voice shook as he spoke. "What's going on, Kristen?"

I had to say something. The only thing that came out was, "I want to go home."

Dr. Cuvo sighed. He said, "You are not ready to go home, Kristen. We have a lot of things to work through."

I wanted to say something to Dr. Cuvo. I wanted to tell him about Mr. Sharp, but I was afraid. I knew that the whole idea of another person - no, an evil ent.i.ty - in that room with the both of us would have sounded even more insane than what Dr. Cuvo had already thought I was. Therefore, I sat down and I let myself cry.

Mr. Sharp was starting to leave me alone. He hated when I cried. I hated when I cried. It felt like a weak way out. I would rather cut myself into a million pieces than cry as though I were feeling sorry for myself. Feeling sorry for myself was not allowed. I had to cry to get Mr. Sharp out of me. I had to cry to make that urge to cut go away. It was cold in that room. I pressed my hands between my thighs to keep them warm. Dr. Cuvo pa.s.sed me a box of tissues. He thought I was crying because he wouldn't let me go home. It was just as well, then. I wiped my eyes and tried to straighten myself up.

"You do understand? Don't you understand, Kristen?" He was looking at me with concerned eyes.

I crumpled the snotty tissues in my hands, and put my hands back between my legs. I nodded silently at Dr. Cuvo while not making eye contact with his eyes. If I looked into those eyes, I wouldn't stop crying.

"Are you okay?"

I nodded and wiped the rest of the tears from my eyes.

"There's an anti-depressant that I want to start you on tomorrow. It is called Effexor. Have you ever heard of it?"

"I've seen commercials," I said as I tossed the tissues into the trash can.

Dr. Cuvo laughed.

"Two medications..." I sighed under my breath. The overwhelming feeling came over me again.

Dr. Cuvo had either amazing ears or just very good senses. "It is going to be fine, Kristen. You are not the only person, especially in here, who takes more than one medication. Remember, you are doing this to get better. Sometimes we can't do everything on our own. Sometimes it is okay to get help, and that is what you are doing. It's a part of your therapy, and it's a part of what is going to help you get out of here safely."

The sympathetic look that his warm eyes gave me while he spoke made my insides tingle. I didn't know how to handle the sincere kindness that he gave me. I looked away from him.

"The nurse put in your chart that you had some concerns about your medication when you first started Risperdol. I just want you to trust me. I am not going to give you something that I know will hurt you. If you feel any kind of discomfort or irritation while taking these medications that you've never felt before, then let me know. I will do something about it right away. All right?"

"Why do you waste your time?" I couldn't hold back.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean why do you waste your time on me? All of that 'trust me' stuff, and the look that you give me. It's as if you are feeling sorry for me. It confuses me, Dr. Cuvo."

"How does it confuse you?"

"I don't know. It just does." I didn't want to look at him. I felt his eyes burning holes into me.

He got out of his chair, came over, and sat next to me. I still wouldn't look at him. But he wanted me to. "Kristen, what does this confusion feel like? How does it make you feel?"

"I feel-" I swallowed the tears. I swallowed that metal ball that wanted to turn in my throat. I was going to say how I felt, and he was going to listen. He was really going to listen to me, and he was really going to care, even though I didn't. That was what confused me. I realized that. "I feel confused when you stare at me." That was the only way I could get it out at that moment.

Dr. Cuvo put a hand on my shoulder. That touch made me look at him. Looking at him with that tender hand on my shoulder made me even more confused. I couldn't read his face. I had never seen a look like that before.

Dr. Cuvo then asked, "Could it be also that you are not used to opening up this much to anyone?"

"For the most part," I answered. "Especially not with a-" I made myself shut up.

"A what?"

"A man," I said.

Dr. Cuvo nodded. His gentle hand squeezed my shoulder in a kind gesture. "I am a man. I'm your doctor. And I think it's safe to say maybe even a friend."

Looking into his eyes was nice, now that I had heard him say the word "friend". I wanted to trust this feeling, but I was still scared. I saw Mr. Sharp's face in my mind. He was my only friend. He was the only man who was my friend. Jack was my Daddy. Jack loved me. Jack was my friend.

My mind got away from me.

A sudden pain went from my lower abdomen to my lower stomach. It was almost amazing how cold it got in that hospital. My hands and my feet were ice cold, even though I had on socks and shoes. Again, I put both of my hands between my thighs to keep them warm. I wasn't prepared for his next question. Of course, it was a part of his job to pry. I just didn't want to go so deep so fast.

"Kristen, I know that your mother is divorced from your step-father. What about your biological father? Where is he?" Dr. Cuvo asked, removing his warm hand. My shoulder began to absorb the cold air.

"He's alive," I said. "He's back home in California."

"Do you miss California? Do you miss him?"

"California? I guess, I don't know."

"What about your father?"

I heard jack-hammering outside. The sound of construction work was loud. There must be roadwork going on. It was giving me a headache; also, a pain kept shooting back and forth from my lower abdomen to my lower stomach. It hurt more with the sound of the drills.