Institutionalized

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“I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“I just want to know why you think your parents favour your adopted brother,” Don asks, again.

“Am I supposed to know? Aren’t I the victim here?” I challenged.

“What about what you said before about your mom’s vanity? Did she resent the fact that perhaps her body changed after giving birth to you?”

“For some reason that question grosses me out.”

“Can you be serious, Salem?” he asked with a sigh.

“I don’t know, I mean, about the vanity thing. I think my mom looks great – she’s obsessed with looking great. I think what she resented was the fact that she got pregnant with me after however many heart breaking years of being unable to pop a kid. They’d already adopted and were finally happy. They didn’t need me,” I reasoned.

“That’s quite the assumption,” Don replied.

“It’s likely; especially because I’ve always been the black sheep of the family.”

“How so?” he asked.

“I just...never seemed to fit in. My parents are all about having diner parties with their rich friends or going to the country club, looking good...shit like that.”

“Is your brother more accepting of this lifestyle?” Don asks, adjusting his glasses, which didn’t even look like they were prescription...

“I guess. He sympathizes with their need to have good social connections, and he attends all their little parties and acts like their little pawn,” I say reminding myself of what I hate about Kieran.

“And how do your parents feel about the sexual relationship you have with your brother? Or do they not know?” Don asks while jotting notes.

“They know.”

“And?”

“Look, you’re really jumping topics here,” I say, pointedly; he only stares and waits. “They think I seduced him and brainwashed him.”

“And how is it really?” he asks.

“He raped me and forced me to be his sex slave,” I reply with a wink. He doesn’t look impressed. Okay, apparently not something to joke about.

“Is that how you really feel?” he asks, taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes.

“Not really.”

“Don’t you find anything wrong with your intimate relationship with Kieran?” he asked, and I just stared at him blankly for a moment.

“Of course it’s wrong and kind of disgusting really,” I reply truthfully.

“Then why do you continue to do it?”

“It never seems wrong at the time, and it’s not like I’m in love with him.”

“Is he in love with you?” Don asks, and I go silent. I hadn’t ever really thought of that. It was just sex to me. And I did know that it was creepy and weird, and incest too for the sake of argument. I hadn’t ever given the intimate details any consideration. In fact, I try not to think of our ‘relationship’ at all, because then it seems more wrong somehow and I don’t know if I could stop. I mean, I probably could but I might lose my brother in doing so.

“I don’t know,” I finally reply, “He depends on our...whatever, thing... more than I do.”

“How long have your parents known?”

“Not long; I’m starting to think that’s why I’m here,” I replied bitterly.

“Does anyone else know?” Dr. Don replies, ignoring my speculation.

“My best friends, Damien and Sabrina, they know.”

“You told me about Damien before, the letter boy. He was also the boy you said had stopped your brother from raping you,” he said looking at me over his notebook. I quickly remembered my last session with Don and felt like an idiot. I’d completely forgot what I’d said to him and now I’d given it all away.

“Well, I guess he wasn’t really raping me, and you already know that it continued until, well recently I guess. But Damien thought it was over, and he never really liked Kieran after the whole incident.”

“I don’t care that you lied about it, I’m just glad you’re willing to be honest now that you’ve had time to think about everything,” Don said, looking sympathetic.

“Can you tell me what you really think of me?” I asked Don straight forwardly and he looked almost taken aback for a moment.

“Well, I...I guess you were honest with me so...” he paused, thinking, “I think that you’re being very level headed and rational about your situation. You haven’t denied any of you flaws, proving that you’re obviously not in denial. You’re cooperating well.”

“Cant you like, tell me what I want to here?” I asked, unsatisfied with his answer. Don sighed and stood up moving to sit beside me on the couch, he turned to me and I waited for him to speak.

“I think you’re a victim of circumstance. If you had a normal relationship with your brother you probably wouldn’t cut yourself, or do drugs or sleep around.”

“That’s it?”

“I agree with you about not putting you on medication. This facility is big on using drugs to rehabilitate the patients but I think medication would only complicate your situation. You probably don’t need to be in a facility like this; you need lots of therapy,” he explains, while grasping each of my wrists as I let him examine my scars. He frowned at the fresh cuts but said nothing.

“That’s reassuring,” I replied sarcastically.

“All of this is speculation Salem; I’m not setting anything in stone today...”

“I’ve seen enough shrinks to know the deal, Don. The only difference between you and them is that you’re younger and less experienced at deciding peoples problems for them.”

“I just think you need the right psychiatrist to talk to. You’re right, I’ve only been a psychiatrist for 3 years now, but you’ve already told me more today than what I’ve read about you from 14 different doctors.”

“I wasn’t ever stuck with any of those shrinks in a mental institution,” I reply indignantly.

“I’d like to hope that’s not the only reason you opened up to me.” He lets go of my arms and sighs, looking me over. I glared at him, trying to cover up the confusion I felt. I mentally berated myself for telling so much, but at the same time tried to figure out why it had been easy to tell Don. Of all the shrinks I’d been forced to go to why had I suddenly broken my vow of silence?

“If you don’t think I need to be here, can’t you have me discharged?” I said, avoiding the previous topic entirely.

“We call it being ‘rehabilitated’,” Don replied with a laugh. “And no, I can’t have you,” laugh, “discharged.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all, before looking at his watch and continuing, “Look Salem, our time is almost up for today but I wanted to give you something.” Don gets up and moves across the room and takes the calendar off the wall. He walks back to me and hands it to me.

“Do you know what day it is?” he asked. I looked at the calendar and shrugged. “Guess,” he urged.

“September 21st?” I guessed, giving him a questioning look. I knew it was Thursday.

“No, it’s the 28th,” he replied. “Keep the calendar; I marked our schedule on there for you.” He smiled at me and when I stood, and rested a hand on my shoulder. I looked at his hand, and to his face.

“I’m not that easy,” I teased and he pulled his hand away as if burned. There was a light rapping on the door.

“You can go now, Salem. I’ll see you on Sunday,” Don said, unable to look at me. I left without another word, meeting face to face with Austin on the other side of the door. I tried not to show my surprise and quietly followed him down the hall. Neither of us spoke, which was good, because I had enough on my mind already.

I had basically lost a week of my life. I didn’t really know what to think of that, considering how clearly I still remembered the day and evening before...I don’t know what. Had my parents drugged me? Knocked me unconscious? Because I definitely wasn’t asked to come nicely. We were almost to the ward when Austin spoke up, startling me from my thoughts.

“I want to forget about us getting off on the wrong foot. I do get cigarettes and other things for some of the patients, although I obviously can’t take sexual favours as payment,” he said, looking serious and rather uncomfortable.

“That was a joke, really,” I replied.

“Either way...” he easily dismissed me, making me scowl at the back of his head, “If you have someone on the outside, you’re allowed to receive packages. Since Dr. Savage is your doctor while you’re here, he would also be the one to inspect any of your mail. He’s more lenient than the other doctors, and will allow almost anything to come into the ward,” he stopped talking abruptly.

“So you’re saying I could have someone send me some, say cigarettes, if I wanted?”

“Exactly, or money or something of value that you could barter with me,” he reasoned.

“This place is fucking backwards,” I said under my breath. He ignored me and we stayed silent the rest of the way.

As soon as we were back in the ward I quickly separated myself from Austin and hastily made my way down the hall to the common room. I ignored the people milling about, only sparing a smile and flashing a quick ‘peace’ sign to Lexus who waved at me from across the room. I mentally berated myself for acknowledging her, because like my confessions to Don earlier, I viewed it as submitting to my situation. Or at least accepting it which I didn’t want to do.

I slowly moved down the hall, side stepping a dark haired lanky boy who nodded at me, making my way to the last door. My new home I guess. I grimaced and opened the door, shutting it behind me. I wasn’t surprised to see Lucius in the room.

He was writing furiously in a notebook, barely giving me a glance as I entered. I moved over to his bed and sat next to him, leaning against the headboard with my feet outstretched, mimicking his position. Our shoulders brushed and he instantly stiffened, shutting the notebook and giving me a questioning glance, which more so mimicked a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression. I sighed and glanced around the room.

“How was therapy?” he asked in a timid voice.

“I don’t know. Confusing mostly,” I replied, leaning against him slightly. He tried to move away, which was futile since the bed was so small. “What’s it like when you go?” I ask.

“I don’t like it,” he replied simply. I leaned into Lucius again, craving the contact. I was kind of a touchy person, and wasn’t used to so little human contact. When he grew silent and tense I eventually got up and wordlessly made my way to my own side of the room. He seemed to relax as soon as I left his personal space.

I lay down on my bed and watched him. He was looking down at his closed notebook; an unreadable expression flashing through his blue eyes. Even from across the room I could see how blue they were. I don’t know why I was focusing on him so much, but he had an androgynous appeal that I couldn’t seem to ignore. Unfortunately, I also couldn’t ignore his frail appearance and the dark circles visible under his eyes, despite his naturally tan complexion. He looked stressed-out I concluded as he shot me a nervous look from the other side of the room.

He got up and put his book and pencil away, returning to perch on the edge of his bed facing me, but not really looking at me.

“What are we supposed to do?” He asked me, looking past my head at the wall behind me. I sat up and stared at him, confused by his question.

“What do you mean? We’re locked in a fucking mental institution,” I asked, being my regular negative self.

“I just meant as roommates,” he replied bitterly, looking me in the eyes and squinting at me...I think he was trying to scowl or something but he looked ridiculous. I recognized his sudden change of mood, and stayed silent not knowing how to approach him. Finally I replied.

“What is there to do...or no, what do you want to do?” I asked, rephrasing myself.

“Let’s play go-fish. Dinner in the common room in only an hour, so there really isn’t much time for anything else,” he replied, in a much chirpier voice as he hopped off his bed and went to retrieve the cards.

Gee, only an hour to play go-fish I thought sarcastically as I agreed to play with him. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as I sat down across from him. He was smiling at me as he dealt the cards, so I smiled back although it was kind of forced. I still couldn’t get over the fact that I had to play this stupid game again...for an hour.

“Do you have any 8’s?” I asked.

“Go-Fish!” he replied triumphantly.

And so it begins...

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