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wednes ([personal profile] wednes) wrote2004-11-21 05:15 am

Closer and closer or, Take THAT, Guernica!

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This is the chapter where you really start to get a payoff for all the time you spent reading.


Chapter Sixteen
Confronting

Tuesday night was movie night here in the mental health facility. They liked to show us uplifting movies to make us feel good about life or something. I never really understood why they’d want to show us movies where everything is alright in the end. Wouldn’t that just make us feel more depressed when we discover it doesn’t?
Tonight’s movie is that one where the kid with the deformed face ends up surrounded by loved ones with a hot blonde for a girlfriend. It’s based on a true story. More surprisingly, they use a guy who’s actually really good looking in real life to play the deformed kid. Still and all though, it’s a pretty good movie. A tear jerker, which is a good thing every once in awhile. I like to check to make sure I can still feel feelings properly. I had to find a new hiding place for my pills after they found my stash. And now the worker guys are getting all shitty with me about taking my pills “for my own good”. That’s so much crap. I suppose they’re locking me up in here for my own good as well?
` Mrs. Whatsername comes to talk to me twice a week. Last time she was wearing some kind of pinkish purple scrub combo with hearts made of flowers. If she wasn’t my only regular visitor, I would have totally called her out on it. I still couldn’t figure her out, really. Sometimes I just got the feeling that she was messing with me, like humoring me or something. I hate that feeling. Even more than I hate the thought that she might just be playing me on, I hate not being able to tell for sure. I spend so much time second guessing myself it makes my head hurt. And I don’t need anything else to make my head hurt.
She told me since I was so calm they were going to let me have visitors again. Let me have? Have they been keeping visitors from me? Who? What had they wanted? And what right did they have to keep people from seeing me? Well, depending on who it was I guess. I don’t really think I want to see Dad right now. But as usual, my string of relevant questions was met with a brick wall. Nobody tells me anything around here! I have a life, you know. After all, this is supposed to be a hospital, not a jail.
That’s when it really started to sink in. Nobody was telling me anything because this was a fucking crazy house. I was being treated like a head case because they all thought I was a crazy murderer. I might never get out, and if I do…they’d always think I was crazy. I didn’t see any way out of it, this terrible situation. The Monster was gone and it was as if it made no difference, I’d always be trapped. I should have felt horrible and low at this new revelation. But for some reason, I felt confident and assertive. I would make someone hear me today. Today, I would be heard.
I got up early the day of my visitors, showered and put on my dress Cindy brought me for court. It was deep blue and sort of velvety, but in a subtle, non shiny way. It had a low empire waist and was actually quite flattering. Whoever my guest was would certainly think well of me in this.
Cindy walked in slowly, much slower than usual. She was wearing more of her fancy-pants lawyer clothes. Rather formal for a visit with her sister, but this is a pretty nice hospital. Maybe she also has a client here or something. She was really nervous about something. She only came a few steps inside while her eyes kept darting back and forth from me to the door.
“Hey,” I greeted her with a small wave, “They said I was having a special visitor. I don’t want to imply that you’re not special…but you are the only other person besides that psyche chick who’s been here to see me before.”
She laughed nervously at that. Was she here to tell me something awful? Did my Lady lawyer quit or something? I hadn’t heard from her in forever. Whatever it was, Cindy seemed terrified.
“No one else has been to see you?” she asked innocently. I suppose I wasn’t her fault no one was stopping by with flowers. She didn’t have to rub it in though…
“Um…no. Why, who were you expecting?”
“Weren’t you um…engaged? Dad mentioned something about a postcard a little while ago.” I wished she would just keep her eyes in one place. It was like she was watching an invisible tennis match. Even stoners waiting for a pizza don’t stare at doors with such enthusiasm.
“No, we broke up two years ago.” Sammy and I were still friends, if you wanted to call it that. But she didn’t need to know that. “I called to tell you about it but your cell number had changed, I didn’t know how to reach you.” I told her flatly. If she’d bothered to check in with me once in awhile she’d know things like this. Like it would be so much of a bother just to take the time to care, a five minute phone call…like I’m not worth five stinking’ minutes?
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” My sister looked like she was actually shaking from nervousness. Or cold. But it wasn’t cold in here; it was hot. It was almost always hot, and smells like when they pave the roads. “Listen, I’ll be right back.” She said, and half walked, half ran out the door.
A few minutes later I heard her in the hall talking fast and low to someone. It was probably my Lady Lawyer. She could have just called me back but I was glad to have her stop by. This place is much easier to deal with broken up my visitors. But it wasn’t the Lady Lawyer. It wasn’t a lady at all. It was a tall, good looking man with rugged features and a weary, disgruntled look in his eye. I stared at him for what seemed like an hour. Suddenly I got a feeling like I should just run from the room and keep running.
“Sadie Mae!” my brother Casey said, remembering a private nickname I hadn’t thought of in years and years. “They treating you alright in here?” he continued with forced friendliness. He was making an effort, I had to give him that.
“Not really, you want to know the truth. They treat me like a nut job.” Maybe that wasn’t the best way to begin a conversation with my long lost golden-boy brother, but I always say you shouldn’t ask any question that you don’t want the answer to.
“You look okay to me,” he said. As if he would know.
“Yeah, thanks.” I’m mostly staring at the floor, the site of my brother all grown up and talking shit to me was a bit much to handle. Cindy is looking nervously between us like we might just start kung-fu fighting at any moment. We didn’t get along very well, but jeez. She never could relax, that one.
Casey takes his wallet out of his pocket. I worry that he’s going to try to give me money when he pulls out a folded up piece of computer paper with some grey fuzzy shapes on it.
“Here’s a picture of my kid,” he hands it to me.
“I think you need a new camera dude, this one works like crap.” Cindy laughed nervously again and looked at Casey, who looked slightly exasperated.
“Lila’s eighteen months old now. This is her ultrasound.”
Eighteen months? I’ve been here for eighteen fucking months? Okay, I should watch my language, there’s a baby in the room…but how could I have been here for that long. If it’s been so long, why hasn’t my lawyer been here? Why haven’t I had a trial? And jeez…my brother has been raising a baby for a year and a half? That just boggled the mind.
“You’re really raising a baby?” I ask him, obviously bemused. He didn’t seem to see the irony in his being so staggeringly NON-nurturing and is now responsible for raising a little girl. With his wife, whoever that glutton for punishment turned out to be.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he looked like he had been about to sit down, but instead he turned around to face me. Cindy stood up and then sat back down, clutching her purse like it was trying to escape.
“I’m just saying…you never seemed very fatherly to me.” Well, it was true. Why was he getting so bent out of shape anyway? He never gave a damn what I thought anyway, neither or them did. Then they come around here when I’m safely locked away to show me their law degrees and baby pictures and look forlornly at their poor, fat sister locked away in the crazy house. Let’s go visit with a nice new dress as if we give a rats ass! I’ve done my part for them, for both of them, and they walked around like they were doing me a favor just being here.
“What, you know all about being a good parent. Was that before or after you had an abortion?” He blurted out. A girl in a pink and white striped jumper walked by the door slowly, peering inside.
“What the fuck?” I yell, getting up. “Is this what you came here for? To show off your kid and fake like you give a shit? To judge me for stuff that happened years ago? Is that all you wanted?”
“Just don’t talk shit about my kid that’s all.” He looks at Cindy as he says this, even though he is clearly talking to me.
“I didn’t say anything about your kid,” I tell him. He sits down but doesn’t look any calmer than he was before. Cindy seemed to decide that idle banter would fix things up.
“”How have you been feeling, Sadie?” She had that same tone the orderly’s when I asked them what the medication was for. “I ordered you some books, but they haven’t arrived yet. I got you the Crowley book you asked for.”
The Monster used to like to buy us off with gifts, just before the rest of the family arrived for the holidays. I nod. For some reason, this was all making me very mad.
“You seem happy here,” Cindy said, taking another stab at idiotic conversation. How could I possibly seem happy here?
“Yeah, I’m deliriously happy, Cindy. Some gross old man whacked off in the TV room last night. Isn’t that a hoot? Happy stuff like that happens all the time here…fuck Disneyland, THIS is the happiest place on earth!” Her eyes went all red and teary. “This place is a hell hole, Cindy. But it’s better than being at home.”
Cindy’s loud sobbing filled the room. She took an expensive looking scarf out of her leather bag and started dabbing her eyes dramatically.
Of course, Casey turned on me: “Don’t take your shit out on her! Oh, it’s sucks in here…you’re not having a fun time?!? Well too fucking bad Sadie. You killed someone. That’s what happens when you fucking kill someone.”
“Casey, don’t” Cindy interjected between sobs. The drama in here was getting freaking thick.
“No—“ he raised his voice, gesturing toward me, “She should be in prison, not in some cushy hospital. And does she appreciate it? No, she sits there bitching at the only people who come to fucking visit her. She’s a murderer…and this is what she gets.”
That was it. The last, the very last straw,
“Right.” I say, straightening up, “Like I’m the only murderer in this room?” I look from one of them to the other, trying to work out which one of them I hated more.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Casey demanded, looking from Cindy to me.
“Go ahead Cyn,” I said slowly, turning on her. How could she stand there and let him call me a murderer after what she did? “tell your darling twin who really killed Valentine Lockston.”
Her eyes went wide and fearful. She turned pale, which until that day, I had thought was just an expression. But her face became stark white as my words sunk in to her pretty little head. Glass houses little sister, glass mother fucking houses…
“Sadie…” she said, with forced calm, “Sadie, honey, YOU did it. You confessed. Don’t you remember?” She seemed too calm, too eerily sure of herself. Did she really not remember? No, you’d have to remember poisoning someone, you’d HAVE to. She thought I was crazy; like while I was locked away in here nobody would believe me. Using my past and my illness to escape her own mistake. Talking to me like I’m crazy and stupid…I picked up the heavy glass ashtray and threw it at her. She ducked and it smashed against the wall, dust and cigarette butts flying up in a filthy cloud.
“Bitch!” I say at last “ You miserable bitch! It doesn’t matter now, you’d never be arrested. You could tell the truth to help me, but you won’t.” She just stared at me, both of them did, “I’m the one who took care of you, walked you to school…I confessed for YOU. I knew you didn’t mean it, and if I confessed, I got to be FREE! I got to get away no one would know what you did. I never wanted you to have to go to his house in the first place.” I could hear my voice breaking. I didn’t want to cry now, not the time to become so emotional.
“That’s enough, “ Casey said, standing up again.
“No, listen…Cindy. I just need to hear you say one time that you know I didn’t do it.” I was calm, not crazy. But still she couldn’t give me just this one thing…she would only stare at me. I didn’t know how she could even bring herself to meet my gaze. It must have been the most hateful expression I’d even worn; and I was a child with a whole lotta hate.
“I said that’s enough,” Casey stepped toward me.
“No—“
“Shut your fucking mouth, Sadie, or I swear to God,” he brandished his fist at me, momentarily forgetting we were in a fully staffed hospital, not in our parents sound proofed basement.
“What-you’ll swear to god what? You wanna hit me for telling family secrets? I know how important it is that we all protect the sacred, holy, FAMILY SECRETS!” I was all up in his face, as the kids say. “I fucking hate you, both of you.” And in that moment, I meant every word.
“You goddamn—“ Casey didn’t seem to be able to finish his sentences. That sounded much more like the Casey I remember. “You don’t even know what you did, do you?”
“I didn’t kill that fucking old man. Cindy killed Valentine. She didn’t mean to do it but she did. She killed him with rat poison because Dad told her it just made the rats go away.”
“That’s crazy, “ he said “You’re fucking delusional.” He didn’t care about my feelings at all.
“Casey please, we promised we wouldn’t make her upset,” Cindy said as if I were a heart attack patient or something. Oh goodness, don’t angry up my blood or set my heart aflutter, who knows what awful thing might happen then.
“Fuck that, “ he said and turned to face me square on, “Mom died of cancer two years ago. You went to Dad’s house in the middle of the night and killed his new wife. You stabbed her to death while she was sleeping. She’s—“
“Shut up!” I screamed “Shut up shut upshutupshutup.” I screamed at him , hitting him in the chest and shoulders, anywhere I could reach. Then what I was screaming wasn’t even words anymore; just loud, hysterical sobs that made my throat hurt. I leaned on Casey for some support and he threw me off him. I fell hard on the tile and Cindy came over to me.
“I know you didn’t know…”
“She knows just fine…” Casey said as he walked out of the room.
I couldn’t calm down, I couldn’t stop shaking, or sobbing, or screaming every time the words ran back through my head. It was dead…it had been dead…and I killed someone else. Someone Dad loved.
As the scrub wearing staff gathered around me, I felt the needle poke me in the arm. As everything got dark inside I remember thinking that I was as bad as they all said I was after all…



Oh yeah, and my cable is back on.
I watched a bland, poorly researched movie called Nightstalker last night. Meh. They did a great job of establishing the characters illness, but the rest was just pablum.

Incredibles, OTOH, was a lot of fun! I enjoyed it very much. I did not enjoy how the lobby of the mall theatre is all loud with video games.
But Syndrome, the villian, was awesome!
Plus they mention the names "Brodie" and "Wilcox" in the movie. Does anyone else find that kinda spooky?

[identity profile] madush69.livejournal.com 2004-11-21 02:35 am (UTC)(link)
I hate the stupid loud DDR game!!!!! I want to kill it, and cut it up into a million bytes!!!

[identity profile] wednes.livejournal.com 2004-11-21 03:50 am (UTC)(link)
And you haven't because...

[identity profile] uterdic.livejournal.com 2004-11-21 09:58 am (UTC)(link)
IT's like they made the movie for me.

[identity profile] madush69.livejournal.com 2004-11-22 07:24 am (UTC)(link)
The machine is not mine to kill.