Notable Occasions on the Calendar of Dread

I tore through the cabinets of the group homes kitchen, knowing all too well that I was suppose to be in the group therapy and that they would come looking for me in a heartbeat. But I needed something now.

The first thing that I grabbed was a box of salt; spices littered the first cupboard and lined each shelf. I pour the contents onto my tongue, knowing how it was going to taste and how it was going to make me vomit, but I didn’t stop. By God, I needed something now.
I can hear her calling my name but my movements don't stop around the small kitchen, I am tempted to turn the burner on and stick my face on it, just to match the outside of my body with what I was feeling on the inside. Quickly, the head nurse comes into the room and seeing the grotesque sight of my being and goes to pull me away, knowing how the sodium would poison my body—she is gripping what is left of my arm while I scream about wanting to die. Firmly, she grips my bicep and pulls my sobbing body into the main living room, disturbing the group in their session.

“By goodness you will follow the rules, Jadelyn,” she sneered, plopping me down on the couch while I try to pry myself every which way. My body knows something is wrong, and actively catches that thought. Maybe if I cry enough I could make myself sick, I could be deemed to “ill fitting” to be here and they would just send my shaking body back to NYSPI.

I was put back into treatment, only this time it seemed more fitting than the latter. I was back in the city of which I grew up in, where my blood came from, and more importantly, I was away from anyone who sought me out. My father no longer had control over my treatment; not that he would've visited me anyways. Living ten minutes away from the hospital seemed to be too much for him. My sister came and home and my brother finished up his school work over here; our father did not control us anymore.

I seldom left the room that was deemed mine, and rarely talked to any of the other patients.
I got up and lured myself into the bathroom, although I was suppose to tell an aid so she could monitor me to make sure I wasn't throwing up the food I wasn't eating. I hear my name being called, and I could visualize her shaking her head when she heard the toilet flush.
I came out of the bathroom, pretending to wipe my mouth in the midst that maybe she would deem me “too sick” to be in this place. I mentally prepared myself to for the talk about not following the rules.

“Jadelyn,” she called, knowing all too well that I hated when people used my full name; it was only suppose to pass my mother’s lips.

I refused to say anything back to her, and kept to myself in my room, covering with the covers and acting as if I wasn't there. When I reputed no answer, she came to check on me. I didn’t move any muscles, and she flipped the sheet over from my head, the cold air stinging my nostrils, along with something different—cigarette smoke. I quickly placed the covers back over my head.

“Jadelyn, you have a visitor,” she said calmly, despite my efforts to make her leave.

“Fuck off,” I muttered, ambivalent.

“Don’t be like that, dear, this gentleman is here to see you,” she said, in an almost too sweet of a tone.

“Merde,” was all I managed to mumble, knowing the nurse didn’t hear me.

I didn’t know who sat at the end of my bed, I hoped it wasn’t my father, but I know she would've introduced him as such, not “this gentleman”.

“Jade?” Mikey’s voice stung my ears.

Never did I think, nor did I want to believe, that he would come and see a monster like me; after nearly painting the pavement with my brains, causing him to say something he didn’t mean, and ushering myself over to the police, would he come back near me. I thought it would all be to toxic for him. Even more so after a mere three months apart.

I brought my legs up to my chest, holding myself in fetal position, before bringing my legs out and kicking Mikey as many times as my body would allow—and he took it.

“I’m so better by myself,” I muttered after my violent deed was done.

“Clearly. That’s why you keep ending up in treatment.” he spat.

“Just because you claim to love me doesn't mean you get to intervene with who I am,” I said, trying to sound stronger than I was.

“I don’t claim, I know,” he mumbled.

“What? You think telling a sad little girl who 'cuts herself on the outside to match what's on the inside' that you love her is going to miraculously solve all of her problems?” I asked, remembering what Mikey said to me.

“I’m going to damn near try,” He said firmly.

"It's been three fucking months. Did the guilt finally catch up to you? Or did you come to just rub it all in my face so you can leave again?" I spat.

"My wife filed for divorce," he said quietly.

"I know she's not going to wait around for me to try and fix our problems, because I know she's not even going to try to help fix them either." he added.

Now I know what family affairs meant when he told me prior. He had nothing left to fix in his marriage, so he went and started to fix me.

"I wanted you to have your space, though. We all did. Especially after talking to your sister and mother, about how abusive the entire situation with Genevieve was, I thought giving you time to heal some would help." He added, quietly.

I smiled even though he could not see me; my heart fluttered and my face grew warm. I then slithered out of the sheets until I was sitting up in the bed. For once, Mikey wasn't sporting sunglasses, or any of the band attire from the tour, he looked simple, human, and happier to see me than I was to see him.

"Thanks for not giving up on me," I muttered. "I don't know how I'll ever repay you," I added.

"You're in no debt to me." he said, cracking a smile. He pulled me next to him and held his arms around me, kissing the top of my head.

I never thought someone would want to save the dead; how someone couldn't loathe me like I did myself, how they could stand to look at me. But with the sheer determination in Mikey's voice I knew he had meant it.

"I love you, Jade," he finally said after some silence.

"I know," I whispered, detaching myself from his grasps to look into his hazel eyes. I placed my lips against his, wrapping my arms around his neck and intertwining my fingers in his hair.

Notes