Categories > Original > Drama > Awake(working title)
5. The Creeper
I supposed no one understands the path on which life has put us on. How long it will take, where we will end up. I am left in the dark and told to trust fate and God, because everything happens for a reason. Life and its experiences are constantly modifying themselves, stretching farther away from us when we least expect it. On the journey to the end of the road, one only understands a single thought: Survive.
Time didn’t exactly fly by during my stay at the center, but it didn’t really drag on either. My first few attempts at group therapy had been mildly entertaining. They insisted we meet in a more “comfortable” room. Maybe they didn’t realize that there was nothing comfortable about sitting in a metal folding chair for an hour while listening to a shrink tell us what was wrong with us.
My therapy was the time I spent with the other girls at the center. Lola and I quickly became friends, and through her I came to know Samantha. The nurses and shrinks all knew her by name, and each one of them eyed me with interest each time I approached her during free time.
The recreation room was full of couches and small tables to play a game on. The television was on the north wall, and was usually dictated by whoever was head nurse at the time.
I didn’t watch television much. I never had. The first time I had stepped foot in the recreational room, I had noticed her. Sitting at a small table by the window facing west was a tiny framed, red haired girl building a house out of a deck of cards.
I had stood for a long while, looking like a complete fool I was sure, watching the red haired girl concentrate on the card deck. Her tongue stuck out to the side slightly, clenched between her teeth, as she slowly placed another card on top of the pyramid. I could see her holding her breath as she wrinkled her nose. I suddenly wished I had freckles. Why did I want freckles?
I smiled to myself as I trudged down the hall with Lola beside me. There were a few girls heading to the rec room ahead of us. Even though they walked in a group, they said nothing to each other. I wondered why that was.
I was relieved to see Samantha in her usual spot against the window. Today she was bouncing an eraser off the faux wood table.
“Hey.” I sat in the chair across from her. She didn’t look up (I begin to realize hardly anyone did in this place) and continued to bounce the rubber square.
Samantha took a deep breath. “I feel very…low today.” She drew out the word low as if she were holding a note for a concert. I was used to her sluggish speech by now, as I knew what the nurses gave her.
I didn’t trust them. I didn’t trust the pills they handed to me in their little clear cups, and I certainly didn’t trust them to tell me how to be “better”. Call it issues with authority, but that’s what my gut told me.
I looked down at the eraser. It had tiny drawings all over the outside, as if to contradict its purpose on earth.
“Have they given you your meds yet?” I stared out the window.
“Yes.” Again, she held on to the end of the word as if she were singing.
“And you don’t feel any better?”
She shrugged then, and flung the eraser across the room. It barely missed the head of another girl. I laughed unexpectedly.
“When you get out of here,” She said quietly, “You are gonna do something worth living for.” The way she emphasized the word made my stomach knot.
“I’m nothing special.” I said, perhaps too quickly.
Samantha lifted her head to meet my gaze. I could see behind her icy blue eyes that she had given up all faith in the world, and in herself. Her eyes looked sad, if not a little too blank for who she was or what she was saying.
“I think you will.” She said this like it had convinced me she was right. I didn’t want to protest any further, her eyes were making my skin itch.
I had often thought of Samantha when I was alone at the center. Her eyes had the ability to haunt a person well after they were no longer in her presence. From what Lola had told me, and the scarce information Samantha had offered, she had more than one good reason to stay so far inside herself.
“Are you excited to get to leave soon?” She was looking out the window this time when she spoke to me. I found it very hard to answer that question honestly.
“Yes and no. I mean, I want to go back to my life, but I don’t want to leave the people here.” I saw her nod in agreement.
“Want to play checkers?” Samantha’s face lit up like a child’s at the thought, and her eyes finally brightened enough to make her seem lifelike again. I smiled back at her and got up to retrieve the checkerboard, relieved to see her in a lighter mood.
“Lights out.” Laura called as she shut our door. The locked snapped into place as usual, and I put away the book I was pretending to read.
“Here.” I dug the small white envelope out from under my mattress and handed it to Lola. She was already sketching on her pad of paper, and I didn’t expect her to look up. We had developed a routine. Ever night at lights out I gave her my daily meds, more because I didn’t want them around then anything, but also because Lola knew people. The creepers had connections, she had told me. If we traded them our meds and other various things, they could get us things from the outside.
It didn’t worry me that this was illegal, and possibly a very bad thing that I was reinforcing someone’s habit. If I could get what I wanted from the outside world, I didn’t care what it took.
Lola grabbed the envelope and snatched a book from her small collection. She wasn’t a reader by any means, but the dozen or so books lining her little shelf were easy transporters for our goods. I couldn’t believe I was referring to contraband as goods. Maybe I belonged in this place after all.
“There’s a girl in 7 that will trade us a carton of cigs and a book for these.” She responded in a low voice. We were lucky to be in 14, because every other group had cameras or audio in their rooms. I hadn’t known that it was within the legal limits to do such a thing, but Lola had explained to me that a recovery center such as ours was allowed it. We were different. Special, if you’d go so far to use the word.
“Do you think she could get Moby Dick?” Lola laughed at my request.
“I’m sure she can get you anything you want for those.” She was still smiling as she replaced the book. “You know,” She continued, “I got really lucky having a roommate with a valium dose every day. It’s really quite handy.”
I rolled my eyes. She meant to make me sound like a cash cow, but we both knew better. Friends stuck together, and in a place like this, they tended to stick very close and take care of one another.
“Do you think Tanya will show for family day?” I knew her parents were almost carbon copies of mine, and I was very comforted by this.
“Probably not. I guess that Diego has a play or whatever this weekend.”
I smirked. “That’s probably best. You’re mom would assume we’re lesbian lovers just because we’re roomies.” I was relieved to hear her laugh at that.
“Oh god, can you imagine the look on her face?” Lola continued to roll with laughter. It was contagious, and I couldn’t help but giggle right along with her. “Are Jane and Phil coming?” She asked between giggles.
“You know, I don’t know. I haven’t heard from them since they locked me up in here. I assume so. They have to put on the ‘good parent’ show for everyone else.” I shrugged. I secretly hoped they wouldn’t come. I didn’t want to see them, and I knew they didn’t really want to see me.
Something inside me ached for it to be different. I shook my head against the thought and changed the subject.
“Tell me again why Samantha is so damn weird.”
Lola sighed and rolled her eyes at me. “I really don’t understand why you’re so interested in Samantha or her psychobabble.”
“She’s human.” I replied. Lola paused, then continued.
“Well, all I’ve heard is that her dad put her in here after her mom killed herself. There’s a whole history of mental illness in her family. Samantha’s the one who found her mom after…well, you know. I think her dad blames her for her mother’s death. I don’t know why, but that’s what I’ve heard Laura talk about to the other nurses when she has an episode.”
“You mean when she acts out.”
“Something like that.” Lola shook her head slowly. “She used to be in 14 with us. She was admitted before I was, so she’s been here the longest I think. Anyway, there was this one time that we were all in the rec room decorating it for Christmas. They had a special family visit day on Christmas day so that we could all have our family’s support for the holidays.” She rolled her eyes. No one in this place had their family’s support, and most of us where here because our family’s had no idea how to deal with us.
“I don’t know what triggered her or what she was thinking, but she very suddenly turned into something dark. She went to the bathroom and I think she was gone for like an hour. Anyway, some other girl went to use the bathroom and came out screaming like she was dying.
“Samantha had cut herself up pretty badly. Really badly.” Lola paled a little as she remembered.
I wanted to know what she had done it with. I wanted to know why. I wanted to ask Lola all the questions she had no answers to, nor did she want to know.
“This whole place went crazy. We went into lock down and they searched each room for any contraband. They found a lot of stuff, too, but that’s beside the point.
“When they searched Samantha’s room, they found a stash of broken glass and a lot of scissors. She was cutting, but her own roommate didn’t know about it.”
“How could she not know?” I heard myself ask.
“I guess she hid it really well. No one knew. Not even Laura. But you have to remember, we don’t have physicals the way that girls in 7 or 12 are. Do you remember when I told you about them?”
I shook my head. Yes, I remembered. The creepers were in block 7, and the eating disorder girls were in 12.
“They monitor the food issue girls to make sure they’re not purging or taking laxatives. Cutting is a small problem, but it’s there. The creepers, now, they are really fucked up. They’re the reason that there’s Velcro all over the bathroom, and why everything has a really round annoying edge to it.”
“They can’t be that bad, Lola.”
“They can’t be that bad.” She repeated flatly. “They take every sharp or pointy thing they can find and make themselves bleed with it.”
I didn’t know why Lola was suddenly so fierce, leaning forward on her bed. Her knuckles were white as they clenched around her coal piece.
“Ok, so they’ve got problems. Who doesn’t in this place?” I tried to joke, but Lola only stared at me with dark eyes. I heard her sigh again, though her chest didn’t move with the expelling of air.
“I just don’t think she’s someone you should hang around with. She’s dangerous. To you and me.”
Something inside of me turned ice cold when I listened to Lola speak. It dawned on me that she was worried about my safety, just as much as she was worrying about herself. In that moment, our friendship took on a brand new light for both she and I.
I supposed no one understands the path on which life has put us on. How long it will take, where we will end up. I am left in the dark and told to trust fate and God, because everything happens for a reason. Life and its experiences are constantly modifying themselves, stretching farther away from us when we least expect it. On the journey to the end of the road, one only understands a single thought: Survive.
Time didn’t exactly fly by during my stay at the center, but it didn’t really drag on either. My first few attempts at group therapy had been mildly entertaining. They insisted we meet in a more “comfortable” room. Maybe they didn’t realize that there was nothing comfortable about sitting in a metal folding chair for an hour while listening to a shrink tell us what was wrong with us.
My therapy was the time I spent with the other girls at the center. Lola and I quickly became friends, and through her I came to know Samantha. The nurses and shrinks all knew her by name, and each one of them eyed me with interest each time I approached her during free time.
The recreation room was full of couches and small tables to play a game on. The television was on the north wall, and was usually dictated by whoever was head nurse at the time.
I didn’t watch television much. I never had. The first time I had stepped foot in the recreational room, I had noticed her. Sitting at a small table by the window facing west was a tiny framed, red haired girl building a house out of a deck of cards.
I had stood for a long while, looking like a complete fool I was sure, watching the red haired girl concentrate on the card deck. Her tongue stuck out to the side slightly, clenched between her teeth, as she slowly placed another card on top of the pyramid. I could see her holding her breath as she wrinkled her nose. I suddenly wished I had freckles. Why did I want freckles?
I smiled to myself as I trudged down the hall with Lola beside me. There were a few girls heading to the rec room ahead of us. Even though they walked in a group, they said nothing to each other. I wondered why that was.
I was relieved to see Samantha in her usual spot against the window. Today she was bouncing an eraser off the faux wood table.
“Hey.” I sat in the chair across from her. She didn’t look up (I begin to realize hardly anyone did in this place) and continued to bounce the rubber square.
Samantha took a deep breath. “I feel very…low today.” She drew out the word low as if she were holding a note for a concert. I was used to her sluggish speech by now, as I knew what the nurses gave her.
I didn’t trust them. I didn’t trust the pills they handed to me in their little clear cups, and I certainly didn’t trust them to tell me how to be “better”. Call it issues with authority, but that’s what my gut told me.
I looked down at the eraser. It had tiny drawings all over the outside, as if to contradict its purpose on earth.
“Have they given you your meds yet?” I stared out the window.
“Yes.” Again, she held on to the end of the word as if she were singing.
“And you don’t feel any better?”
She shrugged then, and flung the eraser across the room. It barely missed the head of another girl. I laughed unexpectedly.
“When you get out of here,” She said quietly, “You are gonna do something worth living for.” The way she emphasized the word made my stomach knot.
“I’m nothing special.” I said, perhaps too quickly.
Samantha lifted her head to meet my gaze. I could see behind her icy blue eyes that she had given up all faith in the world, and in herself. Her eyes looked sad, if not a little too blank for who she was or what she was saying.
“I think you will.” She said this like it had convinced me she was right. I didn’t want to protest any further, her eyes were making my skin itch.
I had often thought of Samantha when I was alone at the center. Her eyes had the ability to haunt a person well after they were no longer in her presence. From what Lola had told me, and the scarce information Samantha had offered, she had more than one good reason to stay so far inside herself.
“Are you excited to get to leave soon?” She was looking out the window this time when she spoke to me. I found it very hard to answer that question honestly.
“Yes and no. I mean, I want to go back to my life, but I don’t want to leave the people here.” I saw her nod in agreement.
“Want to play checkers?” Samantha’s face lit up like a child’s at the thought, and her eyes finally brightened enough to make her seem lifelike again. I smiled back at her and got up to retrieve the checkerboard, relieved to see her in a lighter mood.
“Lights out.” Laura called as she shut our door. The locked snapped into place as usual, and I put away the book I was pretending to read.
“Here.” I dug the small white envelope out from under my mattress and handed it to Lola. She was already sketching on her pad of paper, and I didn’t expect her to look up. We had developed a routine. Ever night at lights out I gave her my daily meds, more because I didn’t want them around then anything, but also because Lola knew people. The creepers had connections, she had told me. If we traded them our meds and other various things, they could get us things from the outside.
It didn’t worry me that this was illegal, and possibly a very bad thing that I was reinforcing someone’s habit. If I could get what I wanted from the outside world, I didn’t care what it took.
Lola grabbed the envelope and snatched a book from her small collection. She wasn’t a reader by any means, but the dozen or so books lining her little shelf were easy transporters for our goods. I couldn’t believe I was referring to contraband as goods. Maybe I belonged in this place after all.
“There’s a girl in 7 that will trade us a carton of cigs and a book for these.” She responded in a low voice. We were lucky to be in 14, because every other group had cameras or audio in their rooms. I hadn’t known that it was within the legal limits to do such a thing, but Lola had explained to me that a recovery center such as ours was allowed it. We were different. Special, if you’d go so far to use the word.
“Do you think she could get Moby Dick?” Lola laughed at my request.
“I’m sure she can get you anything you want for those.” She was still smiling as she replaced the book. “You know,” She continued, “I got really lucky having a roommate with a valium dose every day. It’s really quite handy.”
I rolled my eyes. She meant to make me sound like a cash cow, but we both knew better. Friends stuck together, and in a place like this, they tended to stick very close and take care of one another.
“Do you think Tanya will show for family day?” I knew her parents were almost carbon copies of mine, and I was very comforted by this.
“Probably not. I guess that Diego has a play or whatever this weekend.”
I smirked. “That’s probably best. You’re mom would assume we’re lesbian lovers just because we’re roomies.” I was relieved to hear her laugh at that.
“Oh god, can you imagine the look on her face?” Lola continued to roll with laughter. It was contagious, and I couldn’t help but giggle right along with her. “Are Jane and Phil coming?” She asked between giggles.
“You know, I don’t know. I haven’t heard from them since they locked me up in here. I assume so. They have to put on the ‘good parent’ show for everyone else.” I shrugged. I secretly hoped they wouldn’t come. I didn’t want to see them, and I knew they didn’t really want to see me.
Something inside me ached for it to be different. I shook my head against the thought and changed the subject.
“Tell me again why Samantha is so damn weird.”
Lola sighed and rolled her eyes at me. “I really don’t understand why you’re so interested in Samantha or her psychobabble.”
“She’s human.” I replied. Lola paused, then continued.
“Well, all I’ve heard is that her dad put her in here after her mom killed herself. There’s a whole history of mental illness in her family. Samantha’s the one who found her mom after…well, you know. I think her dad blames her for her mother’s death. I don’t know why, but that’s what I’ve heard Laura talk about to the other nurses when she has an episode.”
“You mean when she acts out.”
“Something like that.” Lola shook her head slowly. “She used to be in 14 with us. She was admitted before I was, so she’s been here the longest I think. Anyway, there was this one time that we were all in the rec room decorating it for Christmas. They had a special family visit day on Christmas day so that we could all have our family’s support for the holidays.” She rolled her eyes. No one in this place had their family’s support, and most of us where here because our family’s had no idea how to deal with us.
“I don’t know what triggered her or what she was thinking, but she very suddenly turned into something dark. She went to the bathroom and I think she was gone for like an hour. Anyway, some other girl went to use the bathroom and came out screaming like she was dying.
“Samantha had cut herself up pretty badly. Really badly.” Lola paled a little as she remembered.
I wanted to know what she had done it with. I wanted to know why. I wanted to ask Lola all the questions she had no answers to, nor did she want to know.
“This whole place went crazy. We went into lock down and they searched each room for any contraband. They found a lot of stuff, too, but that’s beside the point.
“When they searched Samantha’s room, they found a stash of broken glass and a lot of scissors. She was cutting, but her own roommate didn’t know about it.”
“How could she not know?” I heard myself ask.
“I guess she hid it really well. No one knew. Not even Laura. But you have to remember, we don’t have physicals the way that girls in 7 or 12 are. Do you remember when I told you about them?”
I shook my head. Yes, I remembered. The creepers were in block 7, and the eating disorder girls were in 12.
“They monitor the food issue girls to make sure they’re not purging or taking laxatives. Cutting is a small problem, but it’s there. The creepers, now, they are really fucked up. They’re the reason that there’s Velcro all over the bathroom, and why everything has a really round annoying edge to it.”
“They can’t be that bad, Lola.”
“They can’t be that bad.” She repeated flatly. “They take every sharp or pointy thing they can find and make themselves bleed with it.”
I didn’t know why Lola was suddenly so fierce, leaning forward on her bed. Her knuckles were white as they clenched around her coal piece.
“Ok, so they’ve got problems. Who doesn’t in this place?” I tried to joke, but Lola only stared at me with dark eyes. I heard her sigh again, though her chest didn’t move with the expelling of air.
“I just don’t think she’s someone you should hang around with. She’s dangerous. To you and me.”
Something inside of me turned ice cold when I listened to Lola speak. It dawned on me that she was worried about my safety, just as much as she was worrying about herself. In that moment, our friendship took on a brand new light for both she and I.
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