Turning Point: Part 4

Cross your heart and say you've never given upThat you carried on when every door was shutThat you live, you live with no regret!We wear a smile to hide that we’ve been hurt beforeKeep our disasters in a suitcase by the door,'Cause you know, you know we’re only human....Broken ones, Jacquie Lee.

Just then somebody knocked and Doctor Foster stepped into the room. "I see you two have met," she stated, Cameron nodded. "Raven, ready for the tour?" she asked, I stood up. I didn't want to do this, but apparently I had to. My new roommate was like five eight, making me feel much smaller than I actually was. My height was like 4'6" or so, like the women in the rest of the family. Short genes tend to go to the girls, while the boys in the family often ended up tall, most of them over six feet or just shy of that. It kind of sucks because my twin brother towers over me, but at the same time... it's awesome being small.

As we stepped into the hallway, I could hear people talking and crying and wailing from other rooms. We were on the adolescent floor so all patients here would be around my age or younger mostly, there might be a couple of older teens. Oh, sorry, I mean GUESTS. Most are probably here for suicide attempts or eating disorders.

One thing I already want to know is why do they not call us patients, and why do they not just say our problems are problems? I mean, problems and issues have different meanings. Issues can usually readily be solved, and there's often a solution that presents itself before the issue even comes up. Problems are a different story, involving guesswork and actual thinking of solutions.

As I glanced down the hallway, I noticed that there were little things outside some of the doors. They were the same, but each one was like a little flying saucer. "They're little white noise machines, outside all the offices, and all over the freaking place," Cam says softly, seeing me looking at the things. I grabbed his hand, turning it palm up, starting to draw letters on his palm. U-F-O. "A UFO? Flying saucers? They look like flying saucers?" he asked, still quiet. I nodded, he snickered.

"The bathrooms, females are to the right. No locks on the doors for obvious reasons, but generally if the stall door is open it's not in use and when you close it there is a magnetic closure to hold it closed. Showers are communal, mirrors are unbreakable. Orderlies monitor the bathrooms on a regular basis, but you'll never find a male orderly monitoring the female bathroom or vice versa. Showers are available to you anytime during the day as long as you're not supposed to be in therapy or the dining hall for example. Fifteen minutes, then the water goes off. The timers are built into the shower walls so you know how much time you have left. Check in with a nurse or orderly before you get in the shower. There are cameras everywhere except for in your room and the bathrooms for our privacy policy. The cameras are monitored on a regular basis to prevent any incidences." Yeah, sure, incidences like people trying to kill themselves. I rolled my eyes at that.

"The dining hall's that way, you will be escorted by an orderly or nurse who will be appointed to you later today. The roommates in the shared or joined rooms often share an orderly as well. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Required attendance unless a valid reason is given as to why not or doctor's permission to skip. Whether or not you eat is up to you unless you happen to be one of those special circumstance cases, some teens are admitted here for food issues. If the staff notice you aren't eating they'll probably ask why at some point and if they notice you rapidly losing weight they will make you eat," Doctor Foster said as we walked down a long hall.

Cameron kept glancing over at me, making me feel extremely self-conscious. I didn't have makeup on, and nothing was covering the scar on my neck. I couldn't do much about covering the taping and gauze on my shoulders, but I did pull my hair over my shoulder, covering the scar on my neck. I also had a small scar near my eye from where mom had thrown a book at my face. Luckily, that was easily obscured by my bangs as was the patchy discolored skin going from my hairline to below my eye onto my cheek. I had visible bandages on my wrists and thighs, and my hair was probably a mess. In short, I felt like hell and probably looked about the same.

"This is my office, you will attend every second day for therapy starting tomorrow. The recreation hall is down here, they keep some mild forms of entertainment. Chess, checkers, books, and the like. We also do support groups, which you'll be attending on the days you don't have therapy with me. The support groups are often small groups and therefore don't meet in the rec room unless a large space is required, so they meet in the meeting rooms back that way. Cam can show you where it is, if you can't find it on your own. They also have activities throughout the day in the rec room which you will be free to participate in if you wish, the activities are elective. Yoga, perhaps an origami class, self-expression art activities, there are others though. Any questions?" Doctor Foster finished. I shook my head.

"Any chance of you talking anytime soon? A simple nod will do for now," I shrugged. She sighed, then said "Okay. You currently have free time until lunch, about an hour. If you need anything, you know where to find me or ask any of the orderlies or nurses. If you know any sign, which I'm sure you do, we do employ a couple of deaf nurses, they both lipread though so they should be able to understand you whether you sign or not," She said before walking away, leaving me with Cameron. Oh great.