"My name is John, I'm 17 and I should be in the adolescent ward but my 18th birthday is so close so I requested the adult ward."
I hear as if I am underwater. Everything is feels like the static coming off a TV. All confusing and blurry. My breath continually gets more and more shallow until I am gasping.
"Are you ok, Ana?" Dr. Emmett notices my failed attempts at breathing.
He moves straight into emergency mode. He gets off of his chair and walks over to me. He can see the fear in my eyes and the lack of breath in my lungs.
"I need you to breathe." He says calmly as he kneels in front of me.
"Take a deep breath in"
I try to control my muscle and force a fulfilling breath into my straining chest.
"Let it out slowly."
This is even more difficult as it requires twice as many muscles. I take control of my throat and diaphragm; with this I am able to let it out at a slower rate than hyperventilation. When I have total control of my lungs, I lose control of my face. My tear ducts develop a mind of their own and begins flowing oceans upon my shirt. I put my hands over my eyes to prevent my tears from being seen but once I put my focus back on my face, my lungs loss control again. I begin breathing with the flow of my tears. My face contorts and my eyebrows furrow. I can feel everyone's eyes on me and it make me that much more upset.
"I'm sorry," I say between breaths.
"It's ok," Dr. Emmett says, he remains on his knees in front of me, "we are all here for you."
I wipe my face of the tears and look around the circle. I expect faces of mocking or even faux sympathy but I am met with only looks of empathy. It not condescending but rather they understand my struggle have been through a close version of hell that I have. They know me even though all they know is my name and favorite color. I am understood. This is not sympathy. This is the most freeing feeling after the most crushing collapse.
CHAPTER NINETEEN: THE WADING
Pounding on my door rips my conscience out of its acetaminophen and benadryl filled coma. I had begged Dr. Simmons for some sort of sleeping aid last night and now I am regretting it. My eyes snap open and I peer towards the window. Outside, the only light is the street lamp. Why the fuck am I awake.
"Breakfast in 30 minutes!" The pounding continues.
I groan and pull myself out of bed, demanding each muscle one at a time. I wake up at 3 o'clock in the afternoon on most days. Rising before the sun would never be listed as a hobby of mine. When my body finally responds, I t over to the light switch and flick it on.
"Come on," I urge Jamie, "get up."
She stirs for a second, then grows still. I have only known Jamie for 30 minutes total (minus the time we were asleep) and I can already tell that this will be a friendship that could take a while.
"Breakfast is in 30 minutes." I repeat the command yelled at us.
She moans against her pillow. She is as much of a morning as I am. However, I have more motivation than she. Wish is quite frankly surprising. I shake my head and walk towards the bathroom. The small room is indented in the wall. A dirty vanity lies above a porcelain sink which is much too close to the small toilet. I cram myself into the room and shut the door. My hands find my cheeks and absorb the warmth. When I am tired, I heat up like a space heater. It was always a good way to trick my mom into letting me skip school. After 6th grade, she caught on and I had to get resourceful like other kids.
I bend down and turn the faucet on. I rub my hands under the stream for a moment until my palms are soaked. I push the water onto my face in an attempt to wake myself up. A yawn pushes its way out of my lungs, indicating that my plan has failed miserably. I shake my head and look in the mirror. My face has thinned out. I don't know if this is good or bad. The weight seems to be moving to my abdomen which swells more as the days go on. I sigh and walk out. I don't feel like actually getting dressed for the day. A sweatshirt that I messily put away last night hangs out of the wooden dresser next to my bed. I pull it out and throw it over my tired body. I can't even count the amount of sighs that expel from my mouth in just five minutes of my morning.
Jamie begins moving again. I look over to her bed and chuckle under my breath. If she gets in trouble for being late, it won't be my fault by any means. I slip on my zip-tied shoes and walk out of the room, intentionally shutting it much harder than is necessary. Perhaps if I make enough noise on my way out, Jamie will actually get out of bed.
I look around the hallway and see an exodus happening from the assorted bedrooms lined along the wall. A steady stream of people coat the hall and lead towards the cafeteria. I wish this human river would stay where it is at all times so that I always have a living, breathing navigation system; this will make getting lost basically unheard of. I join the crusade and stumble sleepily to breakfast. When I join the queue line, the overwhelming odor of fried onions assaults my nose. I feel nausea raise up in my esophagus. Nope. Not happen. I swallow hard and try to ignore the impending barf. I see an apple shining under the harsh mess hall lights and I blindly reach for it. If I can get some sort of fuel and still get out of the queue line without beginning the vomit lottery, I will take that option any day. I grab the apple and duck under the rope. My greatest and most important escape has been achieved.
I speed walk to an empty table and sit. I breathe deeply through my mouth. If I breathe through my nose I know that the nausea will come back twice as terrible. I drown out the entire world around me. In doing so, I can feel my stomach relax. I look around the room and too many eyes are on me. I see Lee, from yesterday, looking at me with a smirk on his face. He sits with other skinny kids. They look at me condescendingly. They must think I'm a failed bulimic.
"Hey!" An abrupt noise jumps me. I yelp and my shoulders twitch all the way to my ears.
"Oh sorry, I did it again."
I turn around and Brook stands before me with a stupid smile on his face. He says he is sorry but his expression tells me otherwise.
"It's fine," I sigh. At least the nausea is gone.
He places his food down and sits a little too close to me. I look back at Lee and he waves at me in the most highfalutin manner. Brook look over at them and scoffs.
"Don't even try to make amends with them," He says, "Lee was an asshole to me from day one."
"Same," I say mournfully.
"Only an apple for breakfast?" He gestures to my lonesome fruit.
"Yeah…" I say, "I hate apples."
He laughs and attacks his tray. Apparently the breakfast designated to me was an omelet with a side of oatmeal and assorted fried vegetables. Gross. Brook likes it all the same. As I watch him in amazement, Nurse Juay walks up to my table and sits down.
"I hope you two are playing nicely," she says, eyeing primarily Brook.
"We are all cool, Nurse J," Brook reassures through a mouth full of oatmeal. When he talks, chunks of white meal spew out of his sloppy embouchure. I wish I had as little care in the world as he did. Once again, I look at him in amazement.