Chapter 2

One three day stay in a mental hospital. No more. Thirteen year old Nicolena carried a bottle of her prescription anti-depressants to her room. Her hands shook, but she knew what she had to do. The little white pills rattled in the ambler plastic. Amber.

The color of her life.
Glass.
Plastic.
Shattered.
Whole.

Sitting on her bed. In her own room, she thinks of Maria, of Phillip. Will they miss her? She rolls the bottle around in her hand.

Click. Clack.
Click. Clack.

She hears them. They beckon to her. The white label blinds her. There in black and white, her name is printed. Paxil. Take one by mouth every day. She reads it. Mulls it over in her head.

Paxil.
Paxil.

She goes over it, and reads it again. Over and over again.

Take one by mouth every day.

Opening the bottle, her brown eyes peer inside. The chalky white substance, glint, tasing, taunting.

Like Alice in Wonderland, Take Me.
Take all of me.
Everything goes
Black.

**********************************************

Nicolena finds herself in another hospital bed. Her clothes are stripped to nothing but a long, flimsy, paper gown. Her panties were cool, feeling the breeze of the room, chilled through the gown. She pulls the covers back over her body.

Sleep.
Disappointment.
Anger.
Knock. Knock.

At the door. The covers are removed out of curiousity. Nicolena blinks against the stark white coat of the doctor. He looks at her over his thick rimmed glasses and putts the clipboard out of his to observe her. Like a monkey in a cage. As if she doesn't comprehend, he jots down notes, like she is just an apparition, not there, she doesn't exist. Not really. Nicolena frowns at him, wanting desperately to tear the pages from his possession and rip them to shreds.

"I am Dr. Malvoky."

The young girl purses her lips and nods. Sitting up on the plastic mattress, of twin size sheets. The flat pillow squishes against the wall behind her. The sheet does nothing to shield her from the chill of the air in the room. Whether from animosity or breeze. The flourescent lights blind her.

"How are you feeling?"

She shrugs.

He shakes his head at her, "Do you think you are ready to leave, Nicolena?"

She shrugs. Again, defiance flashes in those chocolate brown eyes. Her bulbs of fury dance in the fake light of the room.

He frowns, "Nicolena, do you feel like hurting yourself today?" He hoisted the clipboard up and rests it on his arm, he's ready to fire the ink from the pen, ready to jot down her response.

She shakes her head at the doctor. Blinking her innocent eyes.

Lies.

Images of a pure white casket rushes to her mind. Brough up by a projector, much like the player of old home movies, replaying over and over in her head. Roses of red, violets of blue, suddenly you really realize someone might love your sorry ass. Too late. Game over. She lays motionless in the casket, like she sleeps. Though no life is seen. No breath in her lungs.

Snapping out of it, she hears the doctor speaking again. In that monotone voice, she moves her emotionless expression to search his face. The doctor still frowns at her.

"We have decided to transfer you to a group home. You will not be going home for sometime, Nicolena. How do you feel about that?"

She shrugs again. There is a glare there. She is not happy about it, that's for damn sure. Absolutely not.

Be good. Don't let him know there is a problem. Tell him what he wants to hear. I am not crazy. I don't need to be here. If they had just let me die. Damn them all. Damn them.

"You will be leaving this afternoon. Your mother and stepmother will be here to transfer you after lunch."

She shrugs.

He frowns and then...
He is gone again.

Nicolena sighs, defeated. Rolling over and punching the thin plastic pillow some. Resisting the urge to scream. Muttering curse words under her breath. Words that a thirteen year old should never know, much less utter under thier breath.

Knock. Knock.

She doesn't move. A smile opens the door. A short perky young nurse with a little dixie cup in her hands. Nicolena knows what is in them. How ironic. Like an Alanis Morisette song. She can't help put smirk at the nurse, pushing the pills at her, the pills that put her in this place. In this bed, with the white washed walls and the stark white uniforms and the bars on the windows.

"Nicolena, here are your meds. I have brought you water."

A smile. No name. No matter.

She takes the cup, dumping the chalky white pills into her mouth. She's been through this before. Wash it down, stick out the tongue. Nod. Satisfied. Gone again.

No greeting.
No goodbye.

Nicolena slips into sleep again. Tossing, turning, the thin sheet creating only cool breeze, no warmth. Dreams come fast. Hard. Frighteningly.

Knock. Knock.

She bolts out of the bed. Whipping her head around. Blinking the sleep and disorientation out of her head. From her body. Damn door. Damn sleep. Damn life.

Her mother is standing in the open door. Nicolena stands from the bed. She has resolved not to speak to the woman. Period. Never again. She throws the sheet from the bed. Reaching for the outit her mother holds out, she notices the guesture for a hug, the bags under her mother's eyes. The red rimmed lids that hold tears that threaten to flood.

Anger. Seething. Ignore.
Definitely Ignore.

Pulling the hospital gown over her head, she throws it on the floor. Turning to the bed, she picks up the jeans. Wiggling into them, buttoning them. She pulls her sweater over her head.

Ugh.

"Ready to go sweetheart?"

Nicolena shrugs.
They are gone.

***********************************************

Pulling up to the driveway, the house look like...a house. Looming overhead, like a beckoning prison. Nicolena sits in the backseat, curled up in a ball. Her fingers lightly trace the slashes on her wrists. The cuts she made yesterday, the day before, when she remembered what day it was.

The car comes to a stop, and the heavy silence in the car suffocates. There is a plump woman coming out of the house, waiting like a prison matron on the porch. Nicolena sees past the cheery sunshine smile. She knows better. This. Is. Hell.

Smiles. Fuck their smiles.

Nicolena keeps herself planted firmly in the back of the car. Scowl. Mumbling curse words under her breath. Catching the warning glance from her mother in the front seat, looking back in the rearview mirror at her. She shrugs. Her mothers get out of the car. She watches them in slow motion, like time as stood still. The watches the adults shake hands, greeting each other.

Planning her new imprisonment.

************************************************
(To be continued.)

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