Turning Point: Part 7

Ouch, I have lost myself againLost myself and I am nowhere to be found,Yeah, I think that I might breakLost myself again and I feel unsafeBreathe me, Sia.

Cameron's POV:

I was sitting in the room trying to get to know Raven a bit when somebody knocked on the door and Tristan came in. "Hey Tristan," I said, trying to help Raven out a little by using his name. "What's shakin, Cam? Raven, right?" he questioned, looking at her. She nodded timidly. I watch as her eyebrow crinkles, her eyes go into this calculating mode. "How's your stay been so far?" She made this motion with her hand, so-so. "I was just getting to know my new roommate, Tris," I said.

"I just wanted to say hi and introduce myself to Raven before her first group session. I'm Tristan Delgado, everybody just calls me Tristan or Tris though. Whichever works for you." she nodded. "Black Veil Brides, huh Tris?" I asked him. "Yeah, got this shirt at one of their concerts. What kind of music do you like, Raven?" he asked her.

She pointed at his shirt and, seeming hesitant, signed something. "You listen to alternative too?" Tris guessed, she nodded. "That's cool, I usually listen to more death metal and screamo but alternative is good too," Tris said. "How old are you, Raven?" I'm pretty sure this girl has major issues with authority or something. She didn't speak, but her hands moved nonstop for a solid two minutes before she stopped and turned away from him. This led me to the question of what her first language was, sign or English? "Well, I guess seeing as you don't want to talk I'll leave you guys to it. Good luck with her, Cam," Tristan smiled before he walked out.

"Issues with authority or something?" I asked, not bothering to tiptoe around the topic. "No, I just generally don't like people." she said hesitantly, eyes flickering up and to the right. I think she was lying, but I let it slide. I didn't want to push her too much, especially not on her first day. "And the hands, that was me cursing at him in sign," she added. "Good to know. Anything I absolutely need to know about my new roommate? a bit about you, anything?" I asked, leaving the question open ended on purpose. I could see from her eyes that she was conflicted on how to pitch herself. Maybe because she had never tried to before.

"There's really not much to know about me. I'm just an outcast who tends to keep to herself. I'm just one of the endless tortured souls of this world," She said softly, going all shy on me again. Something flickered across her eyes, I couldn't identify what it was. I found it unusual how she described herself as a tortured soul.

"I beg to differ on that. There must be SOMETHING that makes you unique. I've already caught a bit about you from your actions and few words, should I tell you what I know?" I suggested. I didn't know much but I could sure try. She shrugged in response, so I took that as an okay. I thought back through everything she had said at any given point. I also thought through her actions, what I had seen. I don't know how I managed to even speak in complete sentences but I managed.

"Alright. Your hair, you mentioned that your sisters keep stealing the elastics and that you knot it back a lot. From that I would guess you prefer to keep your hair back and that you have at least one sibling but since you used the plural sisters... I'm going with you have more than one. You get very disoriented and turned around in new places. You play a string instrument of some sort where your hands are in contact with the strings. I know you sign at least a little from you cursing at Tristan. And that you listen to Black Veil Brides. How am I doing so far?" I inquired. She seemed surprised at how much information I picked up on.

"You would make a pretty good cop. Very observant. I do knot my hair almost every time I pull it back, my sense of direction isn't the strongest at first in new places, and yes, I play guitar and a bit of violin and cello. I do sign, a lot. Oh yeah, and four siblings. Roksana, aka Rocket, is twelve. Julia and Jenni were born pygopagus, or some might say iliopagus, conjoined twins. Literally, joined at the hip. My uncle, when they got older, started saying they were joined at the ass. The backs of their pelvises never split apart in utero, so they were surgically separated at eighteen. Chris is my fraternal twin, we're both sixteen. What about you? Any siblings, do you play an instrument?" she asked. "Yeah, a sister. Maya. She's eleven. I play guitar, a bit of drums." I answered.

Next thing I know, Jayme pops in. Jayme's the nurse/escort assigned to this room. "Hi Raven, I'm Jayme. Here to escort you two to lunch," she says in that squeaky high pitched tone. Raven glances at the symbols right above the name tag Jayme wore. Obviously recognizing them, she signed something and Jayme looked pleased. I had wondered what the symbols meant, I might ask Raven later.

I stand and offer a hand, which she takes and I pull her up. "Wouldn't want you to get lost again in here," I joke, lacing my fingers into hers. She cracked a small smile and I grinned. I had taken a liking to this girl. We made it to the dining hall and Raven and I got in line. "You want to go first?" "No, thanks. I'll be behind you," she says timidly and I don't push her into getting in front, letting her take the spot behind me. They can't let us have forks or knives, so anything that can be eaten with your fingers or a spoon is on the menu. "The broccoli cheddar soup looks disgusting but it tastes a lot better than it looks," I whispered to her. She got some of the soup and a piece of bread.

Raven's POV:

After lunch, I decided to take a quick shower. I found Jayme and signed to her my request. She nodded and handed me a set of clothes like the ones I wore now, and a towel. She signed the rest of the info I needed to know, now knowing that I understood sign language. There was a laundry chute in there and to put the dirty set of clothes in there, along with the towel, when I was finished. She also told me to tell the orderly when I was finished, she'd call a nurse to come replace the bandages on my wrists and thighs.

I put the clean set of clothes in my locker-that-didn't-lock for now, taking the robe and undergarments with me. I carefully undid the knot in my braid, my fingers dancing through my hair to undo the plaits. There was an orderly who monitored the bathroom, the woman's name tag said Mary Kate. She appeared to be in her early twenties. She asked if I needed help with getting the bandages off, I nodded. She carefully helped me undo all the gauze strips so my scars were in clear view, as well as the healing cuts. The shower curtain was filmy but blurred, so any orderly or nurse would be able to see my outline but no details.

I got some shampoo and conditioner and made quick work of washing my hair, which I had grown until it fell just past my hips. Showers were my time to think. But it wasn't the best thing ever when my thoughts kept going back to my family, my current situation, and the fact that I had failed another suicide attempt.

You see, when a normal person hurts it just hurts. But with me, it's like a knife attacks my heart, leaving tiny cuts that get soaked in acid so it stings. I wondered what my siblings were doing at home right now. When would I see them again outside of here? It was a few minutes more before I realized I was crying. I looked down at my legs, fingertips tracing the edges of the cuts on my thighs, then my wrists and the ones near my neck; as silent tears escaped my eyes and slipped down my cheeks. I battled the war in my head for a while, trying to see myself through other people's eyes. Chris. Then Jenni and Julia. Rocket. I saw just a fraction of the pain I had put them through. I cupped my hands and splashed water on my face, hoping to hide the fact that I was crying.

A while later, the water turned off automatically. I grabbed the towel I had brought in with me and dried off...the stall was large enough that I could potentially get dressed before stepping out. I reached out to get my robe and underthings from the shelf. The cuts on my legs were deep, I could see most of the stitches they had put in. I pulled the tank top and underwear on with the robe over, squeezing out my hair before using the towel to dry my hair further.

Each patient- whoops, I mean guest- had a small locker with a name card on it to put their belongings in, obviously all things were pre-approved. I wonder why they don't just call them cubicles or something, because calling them lockers was just contrary. I mean, they didn't lock, so why call them LOCKers?! Maybe because some idiotic board member thought that sounded better than calling it a cubby.

Anyway, I found mine and pulled out my hairbrush, running it through my silky locks before leaving them to dry naturally. My set of clean clothes was also stashed there, I pulled them out before I went to the attendant. "Whatcha need? Raven, right?" I nodded and held out my wrists in answer. "I'll call Lizzie," she said before reaching for the walkie-talkie hooked to her pants waistband. "Lizzie, there's a female guest who needs medical assistance," she said into the device. "Take her to medical, Mary Kate, I'll be there ASAP." Came the reply. Mary Kate stood, leading me to a doorway. "This door will take you straight to the medical room, you may want to grab your clothes," she said.

Mary Kate led me to a small cubicle. A nurse came in a moment later. "Thanks, MK," she said as Mary Kate turned to leave. "I'm Lizzie," the nurse introduced herself. I signed my name, she nodded. "Deaf?" she signed. I shook my head and signed that I had a cochlear implant, sweeping my hair back with my hand to show her. She nodded, making a note on my chart of that.

I took the robe off so she could see the cuts. She bandaged my thighs before carefully bandaging each arm and taping gauze over the gashes on my shoulders. I put my clothes on as she made a note in a binder with my name on it, noting the time, date, and probably circumstances. She initialed the space in my binder as well so they knew who did it. She also had the signer's hands on her shirt, it was marked with the letter I in the lower right corner of the patch. Below the I was the letters CM. Conversational and medical sign language.

She was a certified interpreter, a girl from the hearing world who could interpret sign and give the English translation for different things. I had gotten certified myself, I managed to pass the conversational signing and the teaching sign exam so I served as a classroom assistant for my uncle Jason, who was deaf and taught ASL.

I ran into Cam coming out of the room as I was going in. "I probably look like hell, don't I? No, wait, just don't answer that. I'm pretty sure I look just as bad as I feel," I sighed, sitting down on the bed with my back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. He came to sit beside me, hands rubbing my forearms gently. One hand reached up and he attempted to brush my fringe back out of my eye. I flinched and swatted at his hand, shaking my head and letting the hair fall back into place.

"You don't look like hell, but you do look like you've been crying," he stated. "I haven't," I countered.

"Don't bother lying, Raven. You've been crying, haven't you?" He questioned. Yeah, he would make a really good cop.

"Okay, so what if I have been crying?" I responded, crossing my arms over my chest defensively.

"Getting better and out of here is a hell of a lot easier when you actually talk to people. You can trust me,"

"Trusting people is what got me in this wretched place," I snap, irritated. He kept trying to break down my walls, but I was just as determined to not let anybody in.

"You're going to have to trust someone at some point. Humans rely on other humans in times of need. It's just how we as humans are programmed. What's wrong?" He asked.

"Nothing's wrong, I'm fine," I lied again, hoping he'd leave it.

"How did it feel, when you were at your worst?" he asked, pulling a sudden topic switch on me. Cop trick, I knew from my mom's sister. Aunt Nikki was a cop, so I knew most of the tricks.

"Don't do that," I scolded, shifting position. "Do what?" he asked, feigning innocence. "The sudden topic switch. My aunt's a detective, that's a trick that's used during interrogations," I shot at him. I often got to observe my aunt and her partner in action during interrogations. I knew the topic switch tactic well. I also knew the good cop bad cop routine, and the whole leaving the silence and maybe the suspect will fill it. I was raised around cop stuff.

"Seriously, how did it feel when you were at your worst?" he pressed on, either oblivious to or ignoring the signals that I didn't want to talk. "Do I really have to answer that?" I questioned. "No, but I think it might help if you do," he tried. I rolled off the bed, sitting on the floor to stretch out.

"It felt... like a million knives, leaving cuts on my heart. But then it's like my heart was soaked in acid, making the cuts sting," I said slowly, my legs stretched to my sides as my chest touched the floor in front of me.

"Do you ever want to feel like that again?" Cam asked, I shook my head. "Don't bottle up your emotions. Talk to somebody. What's wrong?" "I was just thinking in the shower, okay? Learn to take a freaking hint, I don't want to talk right now! Jesus Christ, Cam! " I said, frustrated. "Fine, I'll back off for now. Seriously, think about that for a while. You know where to find me, if you happen to change your mind and decide you do want to talk," he said, walking out.

I sat in the room, contemplating that for a few minutes before going out to the rec room to observe a couple of the activities. The current activity was sand painting which was colored sand being poured into plastic jars. A few others were doing some yoga with an orderly in another section of the rec room.

I thought about joining that group but ultimately decided against it. Yoga was easy enough for me, as a MMA fighter I was extremely in tune with my body and also very flexible. Cam joined that group eventually, easily twisting into the positions. He kept glancing up and looking at me, eyes pleading with me to come join the group. Each time I shook my head no. I wasn't ready to jump in yet, but I did watch. A couple of people eyed me, figuring I was new, and in the end left me alone. The way I wanted it to be. I would gladly take this life if I could just be alone in my hell.