Open Mind: Chapter Ten

The following morning was my first day adjusting to the new Dogwood routine. Or at least, my first day of being aware of the Dogwood routine. Since I had remained so lucid throughout the previous day, I was no longer afforded the luxury of sleeping in. Mister Greg turned on the lights to my bedroom at 6am to summon me to the nurse’s office.

I joined the line of fifteen other kids who waited patiently for their morning dose of medication. Seeing all of the other residents lined up like this really highlighted how different we all were. There were tiny elementary school children, hopping from side-to-side to manage their overwhelming urges to run and scream. There were also a few residents that were closer in age to me, including Adrianna at the front of the line. There were two older white girls, one thin and lanky, and the other was wide and confident. They whispered behind Adrianna, who shot an occasional glare towards them. The staff member who had sat with Adrianna the night before stood beside her, urging her to “ignore them” and take her medication.

When I reached the front of the line, I could see the smile wipe from the rosy face of the nurse behind the heavy wooden Dutch door. I sensed a version of myself that must have acted out towards this woman before, and I did my best to smile and avoid any kind of suspicious behavior. I knew that the nurses must be one of the key staff members involved with the decision to send me home, and past-me had really set me back with her wild shit.

“Whatever I did, I am sorry,” I apologized preemptively. “I swear that I honestly don’t remember.”

“You really are a whole new girl today, aren’t you Miss Miller?” the woman chuckled. Her whole demeanor had changed with just that simple apology. “I had a feeling your dosages were too high, and I’m glad to see that I was right about that.”

“Thanks,” I muttered. Apologizing used up most of the goodwill that I could muster for the morning, and so I took my medication with nothing more than a nod. I instinctively opened my mouth, though it was something that I did not know I needed to do. The nurse shot me a skeptical look.

“You don’t remember, huh?” She placed a hand on her hip and scribbled on her notepad, which was obscured behind the door. “You sure remembered that rule.”

“I just kind of did it without thinking,” I admitted.

“Well, I’m just thankful you didn’t spit it out at me this time. I’ll settle for that.”

I started to walk back to my room when one of the women snapped at me. “You need to eat breakfast.”

I spun around to face her. “I’m not hungry.”

“Doesn’t matter if you’re not hungry. That medication you are on doesn’t work if you don’t eat something.”

“You can’t make me eat,” I snapped back. It came out of me as natural as my breath. Before I’d even had the chance to stop it, the words escaped my lips. It felt as though some cackling gremlin had taken over the controls of my mind and chosen the worst response he could muster. The woman’s back straightened and her head tilted to the side.

“I can’t make you eat, but that doesn’t mean I have to let you do anything else either. Go on back to your room.”

“If I’m not going to eat, what makes you think I’m going to do anything else you tell me to do?”

“Because I’m not giving you a choice.” The woman approached me and I raised my hands against her. Another hand came from behind me and grasped my forearm tight. I turned to see the face of Mr. Greg. He slammed my arm back against my side and the two of them shoved me down the hallway. I could feel the tips of my toes rubbing and burning against the hard linoleum, but I couldn’t muster the strength to fight it. My heart was racing and my couldn’t catch my breath -- but every muscle refused to tighten to fight back.

“Just let me walk, dammit!”

The woman stopped first, followed immediately after by Mr. Greg. I could feel her grip on me loosen, and she let go of my arm. Mr. Greg did the same. My legs shook violently, but I turned to face them both. The woman I recognized as the staff member who often sat with Adrianna, and she looked afraid.

Afraid of me.

“What are you so scared of?” I asked.

“We ain’t scared,” she snapped. “But we're waiting to see what you’re gonna do. I suggest you keep walking. You wanna walk so bad, then walk.”

The gremlin jumped back to the controls, but I beat him back. I clenched my jaw as tight as I could, spun back around, and moved one foot in front of the other. Just make it back to the room, I told myself with a sharp inhale. I kept my head down, refusing to look at anyone. Once I reached my door, I threw the door open, shut off the light, and attempted to slam the door -- a fruitless endeavor. The door swung back out and hit the woman with a thud. Mr. Greg let out a gasp.

“Oh no, we ain’t doing this. Get back out here,” the woman snarled.

“I’m in my room. What more do you want from me?”

The woman opened the door and ran up to me. She reached out a hand to try and grab my arm again and I stumbled backwards. I swatted her hand away instinctively. She called out for Mister Greg, and they both surrounded me. I kept swinging my arms feebly, trying to keep them away from me, but once Mister Greg was able to grip one of my wrists, the rest of my body submitted. Mister Greg’s grip remained loose but firm, but the other woman’s grip threatened to cut off the circulation to the rest of my arm. The more I resisted and tried to pull away from her, the tighter her grip became.

“Walk,” she grunted. She jerked my forward, nearly popping my shoulder from its socket. As I followed along, my mind was racing. The anger threatened to boil over, but the lack of control over my own body paralyzed me. I couldn’t fight back anymore, and I allowed them to drag me down the hall. The eyes of the other residents burned into the back of my skull as I passed the shrinking line of kids still waiting on their medication. I could faintly hear their whispers and chuckles of schadenfreude.

At the end of the hall there were two doors -- above one of the doors was a blazing red neon “Exit” sign. The other door had no label, but it was another of the swinging white doors. This door, however, was much thicker than the others. Another staff member was stationed at the door and opened it for me. The other two staff members shoved me into the room and quickly shut the door behind me. I spun around to find only a single window pane on the door for me to look outside of the room. I could see the smug look of satisfaction on the woman’s face, and it was as if someone had waved a red flag in front of the bull. I charged at the door and started pounding on it with closed fists. I could hear the click of the lock on the outside of the door, which only further fueled my fit.

“This is excessive use of force! You can’t do this to me!”

The woman said nothing. She only stared back.

“I’m going to have you fired! Does Doctor Lau know you treat us this way?”

The woman rolled her eyes.

“Say something, asshole!”

“Let it out, girlfriend. Say what you got to say. We’re listening.”

It was her choice of the word “listening” that frustrated me in that moment. I stopped pounding the door, allowing my left fist to slide down the door uselessly. I pressed my head against the cool, white surface of the door and took a deep breath. I didn’t want them to listen to me. “Listening” felt like a loaded term, a strategy that a cop would use when you’re in the back of the cop car and he’s looking to nail you on another charge or two. I couldn’t trust anyone here -- Donna was out her mind for suggesting I should.

I walked away from the door and sat on the back wall of the room and took a look at my surroundings. The floor was rubberized and dark green, stained with years of bodily fluids from other kids in my same position. The walls were covered with chalkboards -- an odd choice that must have felt “therapeutic” to someone but ultimately just encouraged kids to write “dick” and “shit” on the walls in permanent marker. I quickly understood that the “comfort” room was a misnomer.

I had no idea how long I’d been sitting in that room. There were no windows to the outside, but it felt like the entire morning and afternoon had passed by. My attention would fixate on various points around the room when the door unlocked. I started to stand up, but I heard the woman bark “sit down” at me and I did as I was told. She opened the door and tossed a granola bar in my direction.

“You could have handed it to me, asshole.”

“Act like a young lady, get treated like one. You wanna act like an animal, you can get your breakfast like one.”

“I think you’ve moved past Dogwood violation and now you’re in human rights violation territory, lady.”

“It’s a matter of respect, Skylar. You gotta show it to get it.”

“Respect? I don’t even know who you are!”

“Well, I’m Mrs. Sherril, with an I.”

“Okay. You’re committing a human rights violation, with an I, Mrs. Sherril,” I snarled.

“Well, maybe your tutor can help you write up a letter to the President and you can tell him all about it.”

I had completely forgotten about the tutor. “She’s still coming?”

Sherril laughed. “I’m pretty sure she’s here already. Just waiting on you to calm down.”

I threw up my hands in annoyance. “I am calm!”

“I’m not sure about that.”

“I’ll be a lot calmer if I can see literally anyone else but you.”

“I’ll go get her. Be nice to Mr. Greg while I’m gone.”

Mister Greg and I sat in comfortable silence for many minutes. I could see the back of his balding head, and it was the first time since I entered the room that I didn’t feel watched and supervised. I was beginning to see why he had such a reputation with the other kids -- he was either empathetic and understanding or completely negligent. Both things were useful for every type of Dogwood kid.

“Mister Greg,” I called out.

“Hm?” he responded. He turned his head slightly to show that he was listening.

“I’m sorry I made you come back here and sit with me.”

“It’s my job, Skylar. It’s what I’m here for. Just want to make sure you’re safe.”

I sighed with relief. After all of the people in the facility who seemed to constantly be in opposition to me, it was comforting to hear Mr. Greg say something that felt so genuine. I let my body relax and slide onto the cold floor.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Mr. Greg said. “I’ve seen what happens on that floor with some of the kids, and let’s just say that they don’t make bleach strong enough for all that.” I didn’t move -- the thought of what bodily fluids might have been on that floor was not overwhelming enough to spur my listless body into motion. “Alright then,” Mr. Greg laughed. “Suit yourself.”

I stared at the ceiling, splotched with water damage and holes where various pencils, rulers, and other school-supplies-turned-weapons had been lodged in the plaster. There were a few more half-broken pencils still stuck up there, like odd stationery stalagmites. I thought about how my latest setback would impact my timeline of getting out of Dogwood. Would I be able to talk to Doctor Lau and explain the situation? I really did feel that Mrs. Sherril with an I’s response to me was uncalled for. I didn’t have a great track record with getting my way with the adults in my life -- admittedly, I was responsible for my fair share of missed opportunities. I was determined to not let this tutoring opportunity be ruined through my own issues.

There was a knock on the door, and when it opened, I was greeted by a sight that I had not anticipated. In the doorway was a tiny girl, slightly shorter than me but much thinner, standing with the assistance of a metal cane. She seemed way too young to need such help. She seemed so far removed from the perfect image that Adrianna had painted of her.

Mrs. Sherril approached the girl from behind and told her, “the medication should be hitting by now. We will be right here if she causes any trouble for you.”

“I’m not worried. But thank you.”

The girl carried the same effortless confidence and self-assurance as Doctor Lau. I have always been able to read people quite well, and it was clear from the way that Mrs. Sherril acted around this girl that she had more respect for her than she had for all the other girls in Dogwood combined.

I rose to my feet. It felt disrespectful to lay on the ground when this girl had to walk with her cane all the way back to this room. I could feel her studying me -- trying to ascertain whether or not she could trust me. I felt like I was a chimp in a cage and she was Jane Goodall -- a bizarre thought, considering Annie was at least as old as I was. Something about that room made me feel subhuman, and it was incredibly embarrassing to be in the presence of a girl who so instantly radiated an energy that said I have my shit together.

“My name is Annie,” she said, extending her hand to me. I quickly rushed over to shake the girl’s hand, since she was leaning on her cane with her other arm and it seemed so uncomfortable. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m Skylar,” I mumbled nervously.

Annie’s face grew concerned. She thought for a moment, then turned to face the staff at the door.

“This isn’t going to work,” she said. My heart sank. I couldn’t believe she’d already made her decision about me so quickly. What had I done wrong?

“What do you mean,” Mrs. Sherril asked.

“I thought I could handle being in this room, but I can’t. It’s too much. Can we please move somewhere else?”

“We can bring a chair back here so you can sit down. That wouldn’t be a problem, dear.”

“It’s not that,” Annie snapped. She appeared to be lost in thought. She walked over to the chalkboard. “I remember my first time here.” She gestured at a point on the wall. “I smashed my head against this wall so hard that I nearly passed out.”

“I remember that,” Mr. Greg said. “Seems like forever ago.”

“Not to me, it doesn’t. Smells worse than I remember, too.”

“That could be me,” I joked. “I actually can’t remember the last time I showered.”

“Wow,” Annie said. “Does your therapist know that?” I could tell from her tone that she was encouraging me to follow her down this path.

“She doesn’t,” I asked, feigning ignorance. “Should I tell her?”

“Tell her that you’ve been locked back here in the Comfort room without a shower? Yeah, I think she should know.”

“O-Okay, okay, slow your roll,” Mrs. Sherril stuttered as she blocked the door. Annie gasped sharply and dropped her cane. She fell to her knees and Mrs. Sherril rushed over to her. She knelt down to help Annie, but the girl swatted her away like a gnat.

“I had a flashback when you blocked the door. Trauma response. I’m fine.”

“I didn’t realize…”

“Of course not,” I snapped. “You’re barely qualified to be a summer camp counselor.”

Annie used her cane to help her back to her feet. “We will be having our session in my aunt’s office. She already told me that we could.” She seemed to register a look of doubt on Mrs. Sherril’s face, so she followed up that demand with a flash of the doctor's keys and a threat. “I can call her from back here and ask, if you’d like.”

“If Doctor Lau said it’s fine, then it’s fine,” Mister Greg interjected. He turned to Mrs. Sherril. “Will you go let Donna know what’s going on and I’ll escort them to the administration offices?”

Mrs. Sherril offered only a weak hmph in response. She rose to her feet and left the room without another word. Mister Greg caught the door before it could swing closed again and held it for us. I scurried over to Annie to walk beside her.

“Did you know Mrs. Sherril? Like, from before?”

“I’ve known half a dozen Mrs. Sherrils that have passed through Dogwood -- they’re all the same.”

The halogen lights in the hallway were blinding as we walked out of the dim comfort room. There was a burgundy book-bag across the hall that Annie attempted to pick up, but it was clearly too heavy for her. I swooped in behind her and slung the bag across my shoulder in one quick motion. She looked annoyed at first, but her glare softened into a embarrassed smile.

“I could have gotten that, you know.”

“No need! It’s the least I can do.”

We walked side-by-side, wordlessly, through the hall. I didn’t really know what to say to her -- she was here to tutor me, that’s all. I tried to catch quick glances at her without being too obvious about it, and it seemed like she was lost in thought. There are some people that you look at and just know that there’s so much bubbling beneath the surface, but with people like Annie, it was impossible to tell what was going on underneath that surface.

Annie stopped to use the restrooms, which were right next to the kitchen. I looked up at the clock and realized that it was nearly noon. From the hallway, I could see Adrianna putting her plate on the rolling cart. Her eyes locked with mine and she threw the plate down to rush over to me.

“I take it you met the tutor?”

“Yeah, and she is not at all what you described.”

“What do you mean by--”

At that moment, Annie walked out of the bathroom and shook the water from her hands. Adrianna’s eyes grew wide.

“Girl, when did you become a cripple?”

“Adrianna!” Mister Greg snapped.

“Ask your daddy,” Annie snapped back with a grin. “He’ll tell you all about it.”

“Oh no you didn’t, bitch,” Adrianna growled. Her eyes turned back to me. “Good luck with her ass.” Adrianna stormed past us and into the living room.

Annie walked back over to me and shrugged. Her whole body shifted and her puffed chest deflated like a balloon. “She started it.”

“Do you actually know her dad?”

“I don’t think she has one.”

“You were wrong for that.”

“As your tutor, let me give you some advice. Lesson number one around here -- learn to talk shit. You get in a lot less trouble for hurting feelings than you do for breaking jaws.”

I looked back to Mister Greg for confirmation, but he pretended that he didn’t hear or see a word of it and just checked his phone absentmindedly. We continued onward to the hallway with the administration offices. We entered the office, and Mister Greg told us that he would be just outside of the room in case Annie needed anything.

The first thing I noticed in the room was that Doctor Lau had draped a huge brown blanket over the mirror. Annie seemed to take notice of this right away as well. She lifted the corner of the blanket to inspect the mirror underneath.

“Well that’s new,” she commented.

“Yeah, that blanket was not here yesterday when I had a session with her.”

“No, I mean the whole mirror is new. She didn’t have this last week when I was here.”

“Hopefully she’ll keep it covered up. I hated having it in here.”

“Oh, then she will definitely take the blanket back off by then,” Annie said flatly. She took a seat behind Doctor Lau’s desk. “That’s just how she is.”

“Vindictive?”

“Challenging,” Annie responded, her attention already drifting from the conversation we’d been having and onto the next. She pulled some books from her bag and studied them closely. “What grade are you in?”

“I just started my freshman year before I got locked up here. Why? Am I far behind or something?”

Annie looked up at me and laughed nervously. “No, no. Er, I mean, I don’t know. I’ve been homeschooled my whole life since I came to America, so I have no idea.”

“Where are you from,” I asked. I did not want to make assumptions based on appearances. I knew how it felt to have people assume your race and your family based on a third grader’s knowledge of world geography and your general skin color. Members of my own family on my father’s side used all kinds of words to describe my mother behind her back -- many of them I only learned when I was older and those same words were thrown at me with more venom and hatred than my father’s family could manage. There was a sense of southern “decency” that filtered out so much of the bile that my family intended, but only an hour or so north drive changed that dynamic entirely.

“Well, I was born in China,” Annie explained. “Doctor Lau is my aunt, and she brought me to America when I was two. We have traveled around the world for most of my life -- until I was put in here awhile back, of course.”

“That must be nice,” I said. I put my arms behind my head and put my feet up on the doctor’s desk. “I’ve never even left this state.”

“My aunt was a traveling nurse with the Red Cross. We spent a lot of time in the Middle East.” Annie shoved my feet off the desk, which landed on the ground with a thud. “I’d have much rather been stuck here.”

“So you don’t do that anymore?”

Annie’s eyes shifted away from me. She turned her attention back to the books and papers she’d scattered across the desk. “No, we don’t.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was a sore subject.” I sat up straight in my chair to give Annie my full attention. I could tell that there was a lot going on with this girl and that I needed to tread carefully. If I pissed her off, I’d lose my ticket out of this place. “What did you do while you were there?”

“We should probably get started,” Annie interjected abruptly. She tossed a thin book across the desk to me. “Save your questions for Emily Dickinson.”

“Who?”

“Exactly,” she laughed. “She was a poet. There’s a short biography at the beginning of that collection that I want you to read, then you can read the rest of it before our next session. She is one of my favorite poets, so I think it will be a good place to start.”

I did as I was told and picked up the book from the desk. The cover was adorned with wilting, drooping flowers painted in dull brown and green earth tones. The edges of the cover were worn, no doubt from years of use.

“That’s my own copy, so please be gentle with it.” Annie reached into her bag and pulled out a small handheld device. I instantly recognized it as a bright white Nintendo DS. My eyes lit up and I scooted my chair closer.

“Is that a part of our tutoring, too?”

“This?” Annie pulled the DS towards her chest. “No, this is for me. You get the book.”

I sighed loudly and opened to the first page. I was greeted with an old painting of the poet. She looked miserable. The way that I could relate to her in that moment was a reminder of my situation overall. I read the first few lines of the book, but my eyes drifted towards Annie. She had slumped over the arm of the chair, her eyes laser-focused on the small screens of the DS. I turned my eyes back to the book.

“What are you playing?”

“A game,” she deadpanned. “Have you finished that first part yet?”

“Almost,” I said as I scanned the remaining pages.

“Bullshit,” Annie laughed. “There’s like, seven pages of background on her.”

“Alright, alright, I’m reading,” I moaned. I turned my body sideways in the chair. My feet dangled from the arm of the chair. The life of Dickinson was presented in such dry, matter-of-fact seriousness that it was so difficult for me to be invested. She went to a fine academy, made some friends, did well in all her classes, and I couldn’t care less.

My eyes once again drifted upwards, but this time my eyes locked on the covered mirror across from me. There was an odd ruffle in the blanket that caught my attention. It looked as though something was protruding behind the blanket. Then, as if spurred on by my glance, the protrusion grew. The ruffle spread wider.

“Skylar?” Annie asked softly. I pulled my eyes away for a moment to look to her. She was looking at the mirror, too.

“Did you … did you see that?” I asked, trembling. I rose up from the chair and walked closer to the mirror. The blanket continued to extend out from the mirror in that one place. I reached out my hand to touch the blanket, and when I did, the ruffle collapsed as if it had never even been there.

I glanced back at Annie and her eyes were wide. Whatever I had seen, there was no way that she hadn't seen it too. “Whatever medication they put you on,” Annie whispered intensely, “I don’t care if you have to beg, scream, and cry -- spit it out if you have to. But get off of it.”