Turning Point: Part 9

Give me therapy.I'm a walking travestyBut I'm smiling at everything.Therapy...You were never a friend to meAnd you can keep all your misery.Therapy, All time low.

Raven's POV:

The next morning Lizzie came in to wake us up at 8am. She did so by flashing the lights on, telling us she'd wait outside while we woke up a bit. Cam sat up in bed, stretching. I was still laying down when he came over and said "Wake up, sleepyhead," as he poked me. "Go away," I grumbled, turning over. He continued to poke at my ribs, when that clearly wasn't working he tried tickling me gently, his fingers dancing across my ribcage and tummy; his touch making me giggle a bit.

"I know you're awake," he sing-songed in my ear, tickling the side of my neck. I swatted his hand away, he had gotten close to the scar. "Don't," I told him firmly. "The scar?" he questioned softly, I nodded. "It is time to get up, though," he carried on. "I just don't wanna get up because it means I have to go to my appointment with Doctor Foster," I groaned. "I get it, I don't like Foster much either. But we have to talk to her if we're gonna get out of here anytime soon," Cam pointed out. I stood, undoing my hair and finger combing through it before quickly braiding it into a single braid over my shoulder.

We stopped by the bathrooms before Lizzie escorted us to breakfast. They had cereal, oatmeal, toast, or pancakes rolled with peanut butter in the middle. I chose toast, Cam had cereal. As we were finishing, Jayme showed up, nudged Lizzie and motioned to me, then signed something to Lizzie. I wasn't fully awake, so I didn't catch much of it. "Jayme's going to take you to Doc Foster, Raven," Lizzie said, I nodded and stood. "Have fun with Foster," Cam said as I left, walking beside Jayme to the office.

We got there and I looked at the nameplate, the black cursive spelling out Adele Foster, MD. I had my thoughts, but that didn't mean I expressed them. "I'll come get you in half an hour, Raven," Jayme signed and spoke, giving me a gentle nudge towards the door. This was freaky as hell, I didn't want to be here and I sure as fuck didn't want to talk to her. Jayme reached out and rapped on the door quickly. "Come in," I hear Doctor Foster call out. I walked into the room and shut the door behind me. "Ah, Raven. Come on in, sit down," she said, gesturing to the seat across from her.

I noticed she kept little toys around her office. Her desk looked very neat and organized, a laptop to one side and a pile of papers stacked on the other side in a file box of some sort. Pens in a jar on the corner of the desk. Bookshelves around the room, along with framed certificates and diplomas displaying all her medical credentials. I poked at one of the toys, a squishy foam ball that was painted or dyed or something to be tie-dye. "You can pick something from the basket if you need something to fidget with," Doctor Foster told me. I nodded, pulling my knees to my chest as I lifted my feet to rest of the edge of the chair, my arms resting on my knees. "How's your day been so far, Raven?" she asked. My stubborn nature was still showing as I refused to talk. I would always be too far gone, she couldn't save me. I knew I was too far gone, but my family insisted I try this, so here I was. Stuck in the mental hospital.

"This is our first session together and there will most likely be many more, so I'd really like it if we could come to some sort of common ground, and that would prove a lot easier if you'd talk to me, please," Doctor Foster requested, her tone cool and professional. "Okay, we can ease in if you want, not go straight to why you're here. What kinds of things do you like to do, Raven? Do you play sports, or do you have any extracurricular activities you enjoy?" She pressed on, I didn't reply. "Your brother mentioned to me that you like science, what is it about science that you like? Done any cool experiments recently?" she asked.

She leaned back in her chair, examining my face for any flicker of emotions. But I knew she wouldn't find any. The normal calculating going on behind my eyes faded from visibility as I forced my eyes to go hazy and glazed over, the rest of my face morphing into a mask. Hiding how I really felt was one of my talents, and there were only a few people who weren't fooled. I couldn't fool my siblings, and a couple people who have known me since I was little. I could easily mislead my parents and teachers, and most people who don't know me well. Foster had known me less than a week and would be easy enough to fool.

After I didn't speak, she wrote something down before she tried again. I was ace at reading regularly, but upside down... I often read upside down just for the hell of it. Whaat? I found it easy, and I can read sideways pretty well too, somehow, I can read almost every which way. She had written about how my posture was very defensive and I seemed extremely uncooperative. Nice, she was delving into trying to read my body language. That's lovely, doctor Foster, that's great.

A moment or two later, she tried again. "Raven, I really think it'll help me help you if you'd open up, just talk to me. Even if it's not about your issues, I'd consider it an improvement," she tried. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at that one. How could this complete stranger help me feel better? "Talking about things will help get them off your chest, and then we can sift through your feelings a bit, including the ones you might not understand fully yet," she continued.

Wow, so now she thinks I'm confused. I wasn't. I knew how I felt, I knew what I wanted. She was the perplexed one, she had no idea what she was talking about. "Raven, I can't even start to help you if I have no clue at all why you tried to kill yourself. According to your brother Chris, this was the fifth attempt. As far as I know, you haven't talked to anyone about it. It's really unhealthy to keep it bottled up inside," she tried. I looked downwards, still not talking. My mind was my safe place. People thankfully couldn't possibly read every single thought of mine and talking to myself in my head didn't require that I trust anybody or anything outside of my mind.

"You might be wondering about how exactly I can help you. Well, I can teach you different skills in coping with whatever may be going on in your life. I can teach you acceptance, and I could help you learn problem solving skills. You may not believe it, but I can help you get better. You're not alone in this," she tried to explain. It was crazy psychological bullshit and I didn't want or need her help.

In fact, now that I really think about it, help is a very fucked up word. If by helping someone you mean locking them away in the loony bin and not letting them have anything that they could potentially hurt themselves on, then I didn't want help. I had access to cutting 24/7, if you think about it.

Taking my blades away would do no good. There would always be something I could cut myself with. The teeth in the paper towel dispenser here. Or my nails, I've tried before and they work. I can bite one of my nails into a jagged edge and cut myself with my nail. There's always the nurses' badges, if I can swipe one of them. Paper, if you do it right. The metal on a pencil can be manipulated to get a sharp edge. Seriously, there's always something around that I could cut myself with.

"Raven, I can only speculate on what may have happened to you to make you stop talking. Not speaking must take a lot of energy. I understand that most of the things here are beyond your control. What time you wake up, when you go to group therapy, when you see me, when and what you eat... You may feel more powerful not talking, it may give you a sense of control. But Raven, you'd have so much more power if you'd just talk," she tried one more time.

"Very well, I understand that you don't want to talk but you do deserve my attention and we'll finish our half hour in silence if we have to," she said firmly. Great. I'm sure there are better things she could do with her time. Occasionally she'd ask a question, usually something about what I liked doing, or maybe one about my family. I would never answer.

I ended up watching the clock, the thirty minutes ticking away agonizingly slow until it hit 9:30am. The session had come to an end. I looked up at Doctor Foster, waiting for her to let me go. "I get the feeling you don't let people in very often, and it leaves me to wonder who or what hurt you that much and caused you to not trust people," she said quietly.

That hit my mind hard. I was a loner at school, always working on stuff. I didn't have many friends and that was okay with me. My home life came to mind next, how mom and dad always picked on me. I heard their voices in my head. "You're so skinny Raven, you should eat more. Go put some foundation on, even out your skin tone. You really should get your hair cut, it's getting too long. We may say eat more, but don't sneak food. Oh my god Raven, are you really planning on eating that much?! Raven, why can't you get good grades for once?" Apparently I had said that out loud, because the look on Foster's face was horrified.

I had been closed off from my emotions and didn't even know it. I had naturally progressed that way, it seemed. I sat here with tears forming in my eyes at the corners, fighting them back. "You can go, Raven," she choked, I stood and walked out of her office, slamming the door with a satisfying thunk. Jayme wasn't there, I found. Of course, that didn't mean I wanted to see the face that was waiting for me either.

"Hey, Jayme got figuratively tied up and I offered to be here to get you," Cam started, bright green eyes dancing. "How'd it-?" He started, stopping as I pushed past him and ran back to the room, tears spilling from my eyes as I fell onto my bed and broke down. I didn't want to cry but I had to let it out, couldn't stop the breakdown. It just hurt so much. It was because of them that I had tried to kill myself. Living with them was hell. The cuts on my legs and wrists, were because of them. I was so insecure because of them. I wanted to die because of them, so I never had to hear them talk again.

My siblings tried to help me, they really did. It's not their fault that they couldn't help me. Chris, Rocket, Julia and Jenni had managed to save me at least three times. But I didn't want to be saved; I wanted to be released from this earthly hell. It's not their fault I happen to be one of those tortured souls who wants to be dead. My life would never be worth anything and I knew that, so why couldn't they let me die?

I just lay there and cried for a long time. Cam walked into the room, coming over to sit beside me. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. Just him being there was comforting, like Chris would. Lizzie poked her head in to check on me, then Doctor Foster. Neither of them said anything but they did seem concerned. My fingernails began scratching at my arms again, above the bandages. Cam took hold of my hands to stop me from scratching, I turned onto my back so I wasn't twisted weird.

At some point I became numb to the tears, my eyes were dry and I couldn't cry any more. Cam had my hands in his, thumbs rubbing softly. "Are you okay?" he asked. I shook my head in answer. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked. "No," I said softly. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked, pulling me into a sitting up position so he could hug me tightly. My head landed in the hollow of his neck, his hands joined behind me. I shook my head. We sat there in silence for a few minutes, him holding me close, before he perked up. "Do you want to make origami?" he asked. I raised an eyebrow, the suggestion was so random. It reminded me of home, how Rocket would always come find me and be sitting there with me, then she'd randomly ask me "Can we go make cookies?" or "Could we go do a science experiment?" and it was just so random when she asked.

"They actually let us do that?" I asked. "Yeah, they have an origami kit out in the rec room. I used to do it a lot with my grandpa, I don't know, it's just it's cool, come on!" he said excitedly. I didn't have the energy to protest, so even though I didn't feel like doing anything I nodded and he pulled me up, leading me to the rec room. Of course the place was supervised by a couple of staff. We walked to get the book, then sat at a table. "Do you know how to make anything?" he asked. I shrugged. I used to do origami a lot with Rocket, folding paper into different shapes. "What color do you want?" He asked. I didn't say anything, I really didn't want to do this. "Come on, it'll help take your mind off things," He encouraged, eyes shining with excitement. Those eyes were hard to say no to, so I reached forward and picked a black piece of paper with red stripes.

"What are you going to make?" He asked, I shrugged. "Oh okay, I guess it'll be a surprise then," he said. I watched him select a square that was blue and yellow and start folding without the book. He was a lot faster than me. I started folding the paper and creasing it sharply, my mind on autopilot. I feel like Cam's the guy who would have three coffees and an energy drink all before 10 in the morning. But he was right, this did help take my mind off things. I looked down at the finished project, I had folded a paper crane. I should have folded something different, this one evoked a memory I didn't want to see right now. These were the types of things I folded with Rocket. We at one point tried to fold 1000 paper cranes to send to random addresses around the world with sweet messages and fortunes and such. My stomach sank and I pushed away the memories. Well, I tried to anyway.

"That's cool, you made a crane," Cam said cheerfully. I glanced at him, then back to the crane. "It's stupid," I muttered, scrunching up the paper. "Wait, don't," he said. "If you don't want it, I'll take it," he said as he smoothed out the kinks, restoring the crane to its former glory, only a bit rumpled. "There, that's better," he said with a smile. "What did you make?" I asked quietly. He responded by holding it out to me. It was a flower. I took the delicate paper flower from his hands, examining it. It was beautiful and very well made. "It's an iris flower. But not just any iris flower though," he said, I looked up to find his bright green eyes glittering. "The iris itself symbolizes hope, the yellow is for faith and the blue for truth," I nodded and started to hand it back. "You keep it," he said softly. I looked down at it again, and just maybe, there was a hint of a smile coming out.

Cameron's POV:

Lizzie came in to wake us at 8am the next morning. She flashed the lights on and told us she'd wait outside and we have five minutes to wake up a bit. I sat up in bed and stretched out before standing and walking over to Raven, who was still on her bed. "Wake up, sleepyhead," I said as I poked her, but that didn't work. "Go away," she grumbled, turning over. I continued to poke at her ribs, when that clearly wasn't doing any good I tried tickling her gently, fingers dancing across her ribs and tummy, making her giggle. "I know you're awake," I sang in her ear, my fingers moving up to her neck.

She swatted my hand away from her neck, tensing visibly. "Don't," she said. "The scar?" I questioned softly, she nodded. "It is time to get up, though," I carried on. "I just don't wanna get up because it means I have to go to my appointment with Doctor Foster," she groaned. "I get it, I don't like Foster much either. But we have to talk to her if we're gonna get out of here anytime soon," I pointed out. She groaned again but stood and raked her fingers through her hair, brushing it over her shoulder and braiding it into a simple style.

We stopped by the bathrooms before Lizzie escorted us to breakfast. They had cereal, oatmeal, toast, or pancakes rolled with peanut butter in the middle. I had a bowl of cereal, Raven picked at a piece of toast. Jayme showed up as we were finishing up, she nudged Lizzie and motioned to Raven before signing something. Normally Jayme and Lizzie worked the day shift, and Ruby worked nights. "Jayme's going to take you to Doc Foster, Raven," Lizzie said, Raven nodded and stood up. "Have fun with Foster," I said as she left. Her first session, I hoped it went okay. I know mine ended up with me breaking down because they had asked my grandmother to come in and join the session.

"So," Lizzie said, like something was up. "So what?" I asked her. "You totally like that girl," she stated more than asked. I blushed and replied, "That girl has a name. How do you know I like her, and what if I do?" "You should see yourself when she's sitting right there, Cam. I think everybody might know if you keep that up," Lizzie teased. Lizzie was one of my favorite nurses... and she was one of the younger ones, which is why she worked in the adolescent unit. Because she was just able to connect to teenagers. She had wanted to work on the adult unit but a friend convinced her to try to adolescents. She tried for a while and she never transferred back to the adults. "It's kinda cute, to be honest. Classic boy falls for girl. Any thoughts?" "She's adorable, quite shy. And she's so tiny, for heaven's sake. I don't think she stands taller than five feet. She gets scared easily, her first day I kinda accidentally scared her when I walked into the room," I spilled. "Just because she's depressed and suicidal doesn't mean she can't find something to live for, to help her get better. Don't be a heartbreaker, Cam," Lizzie playfully scolded me, ruffling my hair. I nodded in reply.

Just then, Lizzie's pager went off. "Jayme can't be there to get Raven in half an hour, wants to know if you want to do it?" she said with a sly smile. "This is you trying to set me up," I stated. "Who, me? Never! I'm asking a legit question and hoping for a legit answer!" she said, acting like she was shocked that I'd ever accuse her of trying to set me up. "Okay, even if you are trying to set me up I don't care. Can I, pretty please with cherries on top?!" I practically begged her. "Of course you can, ya lovestruck goof," She laughed, ruffling my hair. "I think I'll go on and shower while she's not around, it looks like I have enough time... if that's alright," "Yeah, of course. Go on, lover boy," "Don't call me that where she can hear you, Liz," I shot back, laughing as I walked to go take a quick shower. Jayme caught me on the way there.

"Hey, Cam. I told Raven I'd get her in half an hour... I just found out I'm gonna be tied up," She said, signing too. "Are you literally tied up? Somebody holding you hostage or something, tie you up so you can't escape?" I joked. I tried to sign as well, spelling it out as Raven showed me when I didn't know how to sign the word. Jayme knew I was learning and tried to help me fill in the gaps. "You little rat, no! I'm BUSY, you nut!" She laughed, ruffling my hair. "Lizzie put you up to that, didn't she? You're not really tied up, literally or figuratively?" I asked on a hunch. Jayme smacked her forehead and nodded. "If you want to. If not, I'll get her," She said, signing as well. I jabbed a punch in her direction, hitting her arm lightly. "I'll meet her when she's finished with Foster," I said, Jayme nodded confirmation and I walked away to go take a shower.

Time passed quickly, I was soon done in the shower and it was almost time to go get Raven. A couple minutes passed before I heard Raven in there, talking. But what I heard her say sent chills up my spine. "You're so skinny Raven, you should eat more. Go put some foundation on, even out your skin tone. You really should get your hair cut, it's getting too long. We may say eat more, but don't sneak food. Oh my god Raven, are you really planning on eating that much?! Raven, why can't you get good grades for once?" I heard her murmur.

I shuddered, wondering about that. It sounded like her repeating stuff somebody had told her. But now I had to decide what to do: do I let her know that I heard it, or do I act like I didn't? Within a minute, she walked out, slamming the door hard. "Hey, Jayme got figuratively tied up and I offered to be here to get you," I said, going with the second approach and not letting her know I heard. "How'd it-?" I started, stopping as she pushed past me and ran back to the room. Which made me wonder, what the hell had happened during her session with Foster?! Whatever had happened, she seemed extremely upset, to say the least.

I walked into the room to find her crying her eyes out. I went to sit beside her, not saying anything. Lizzie poked her head into the room, frowning. Doctor Foster did the same a few minutes later. Raven started scratching at her wrists with her nails, I reached up to take hold of her hands to stop her. She turned slightly, ending up on her side with her back facing the wall. I didn't make any move to let go of her hands nor did she pull away. The tears that edged from her eyes and rolled down her face were heartbreaking. I blinked, pushing my own tears back.

After a while, she managed to stop crying. Her icy eyes appeared hollow, yet full of pain, and that made me want to cry; knowing she was hurting inside and I didn't have any idea how to help her. I pulled her up to a sitting position so I could hug her. Her hands rested on my legs and my hands linked behind her back; her head landing in the hollow of my neck. "Are you okay?" I asked. Dumb question and I knew it, but I couldn't think of anything better to start with. She shook her head in answer. "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked. "No," she said softly. "Is there anything I can do to help?" I tried, she shook her head. We sat there in silence for a few minutes, I just held her close to me. She wasn't crying, but she wasn't moving very much.

Just then, I thought of an idea. "Do you want to make origami?" I asked, going with a distraction technique. She didn't want to talk about it (and I didn't want to force her to either, because that would apparently be a violation of her constitutional right and I would never want to violate or deny anybody their constitutional rights), and this was the best idea I could come up with. She raised an eyebrow, the suggestion was so random and I knew that.

"They actually let us do that?" she asked dubiously. "Yeah, they have an origami kit out in the rec room. I used to do it a lot with my grandpa, I don't know, it's just it's cool, come on!" I said excitedly. I pulled her up and we walked to get the book, then sat at a table. "Do you know how to make anything?" I asked, she shrugged. "What color do you want?" I questioned. She didn't say anything. "Come on, it'll help take your mind off things," I encouraged, eyes shining. She reached forward and picked a black piece of paper with red stripes. "What are you going to make?" I asked, she shrugged. "Oh okay, I guess it'll be a surprise then," I said. She watched as I picked up a blue and yellow striped square and started folding without referencing the book.

She started folding, slow and meticulous. She seemed upset as she looked down at the finished project. She had made a crane with the black and red paper.

The crane symbolizes hope, but there were multiple meanings for the black. Power, sexuality, sophistication, formality, elegance, wealth, mystery, fear, evil, unhappiness, depth, style, sadness, remorse, anger, anonymity, mourning, death, and detachment were some of them.

Red had lots of different meanings too... but both red and black were the colors of the self-harm awareness campaign things for a while, until they decided to change it to orange.

From what I knew about Raven... She was suicidal and she did self-harm. She has a rough time communicating the range of emotions that she feels, so maybe emotional detachment. Anonymity, perhaps; I gather she doesn't have a lot of friends and feels unknown to most of her schoolmates.

I noticed she had trouble talking about her family in general. Her parents liked to pick on her. I don't think she knows, but she was talking in her sleep last night. She wasn't happy in that house, I gather. She was probably holding onto some anger because she hadn't succeeded with killing herself. Fear, the way she talks about her parents... I think they abuse her and it scares her.

"That's cool, you made a crane," I said cheerfully. She glanced at me, then back to the crane. "It's stupid," she muttered, scrunching up the paper. "Wait, don't," I said. "If you don't want it, I'll take it," I said, smoothing out the kinks and restoring the crane to most of its former state, it was only slightly rumpled now. "There, that's better," I said with a smile. "What did you make?" she asked, I responded by holding out my piece. She took the flower from my hands, examining it. "It's an iris flower. But not just any iris flower though," I said, she looked up with interest. "The iris itself symbolizes hope, the yellow is for faith and the blue for truth," I explained. The yellow also was the color for the suicide awareness ribbon, but she didn't need to know that right now. She nodded and started to hand it back. "You keep it," I said softly. She looked down at it again and I think I saw a hint of a smile.

Note

Hey people, quick note: When I started this story, the colors of the self harm awareness ribbons were black and red according to what I could find.

Different sites say different things, but from what I gather the orange and white is the self harm awareness. The red and black ribbon is also sometimes used- that one covers awareness for murder victims and for self harm.

Here are some others:

• https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_awareness_ribbons
• http://www.trinitylondon.com/awareness-ribbon-meanings.asp