I brushed and braided Reba’s hair loosely so it wouldn’t pull on her tender scalp.  I didn’t have a mirror to show her how it looked, so I asked her how it felt.

 

“It’s good, Tegan.  Thank you,” She said slowly and deliberately, as though organizing her mouth movements was difficult.

 

I imagined it was, because she became indecipherable when she was excited or upset.

 

“Aaw, you’re *very* welcome, Reba,” I responded, and hugged her tightly from my position behind her.  From the front she could use her arms and she had a way of squeezing very tightly— tighter than she intended to.

 

Reba had been here almost as long as I had.  She had Down Syndrome or she was Autistic or something, I never asked her and the orderlies, and nurses, and doctors weren’t supposed to tell anyone about the patients’ medical information.  I was left here when I was 10 years old.  Or maybe I was 11..  I don’t really remember.  Reba was admitted and assigned to my room when I was 12 or 13.  Until then I had been alone in my room.  I assumed it was because of the lack of a children’s ward and the staff wanted to maintain a symbolic separation.  I was confused by Reba’s presence for only a moment.

 

She seemed younger than me in every way except physically.  She appeared to be in her 30’s, but her movements and vocalizations were all on the level of what I’d expect from a toddler.  Her emotions were big and uncontrolled.  Her speech was unclear, and her gestures were often large and flailing.

 

I assumed she was left here by a family member who couldn’t dedicate the time necessary to care for her.

 

“Can we go see the kitties now?” Reba twisted around to look at me as she asked her question.

 

“I don’t think the kitties are here yet, Reba,” I answered her.  “Remember?  They’ll play that little chime over the PA system and tell us to come to the Rec. Room when they’re ready.”

 

Every few weeks or so somebody came by with a bunch of extremely laidback animals so that us mental patients could play with them.  Some of the patients here liked it.  Some of them hated it.  Reba and I liked animals and I always went with her to play with them (and to make sure she didn’t squeeze the life out of any of them).

 

Reba hummed her disappointment at having to wait.  Reba didn’t like waiting, but we were working on that.

 

“Why don’t w-“ I stopped mid-sentence and my eyes snapped to the doorway as a new sound caught my attention.  

 

Somebody was crying.  Not just crying.  It sounded like a full-on, hyperventilating, freak-out.

 

“Reba, do you hear that?”

 

We both tore our eyes away from the door to glance at each other.  Reba nodded her head and swallowed visibly.  She didn’t like it when the other patients were upset.  Sometimes it was dangerous when the other patients were upset.  Sometimes it made her upset sympathetically.

 

“It’s ok,” I told Reba as I picked myself up from my spot next to her on the floor.  

 

I reached my hands down to help her up.  I had to plant myself pretty solidly in order to heft Reba to her feet.  I was getting tall but Reba still out-massed me by quite a lot.  I assumed she had some sort of thyroid issue that went overlooked due to her mental status.  I never saw her eat enough food to justify the weight she kept on— but a lot of the patients here had physical problems in addition to mental issues.  

 

I guess once something goes wrong in the brain, stuff is more likely to go wrong elsewhere.

 

I led Reba to her bed and sat her down.

 

“I’m gonna go check it out.  Okay?”

 

Reba nodded her head and I left our shared room to follow the sound echoing through the hallway.  I walked slowly past room after room.  All the doors of the occupied rooms were wide open during the day.  If you closed your door before lights out an orderly came to see what you were up to (because the only reason a person wants privacy is if they’re doing something they shouldn’t be.  Right?)

 

The sound was coming from behind a mostly closed door.  It was *technically* open, but only an inch or so.  

 

I held the doorknob and knocked gently with my other hand.  Whoever was in there either didn’t hear me or just didn’t acknowledge me.

 

“Hey,” I said gently, but loud enough to be heard, as I pushed the door open.  “Somebody’s gonna come in here and sedate you if you keep the door closed like this.”

 

The light was off and the blinds were half-closed.  I saw a boy, I’m not sure how old, walking in a small circle in the middle of the room.  His hands were alternately tugging at his hair, and wiping his face, and twisting together anxiously in front of him.  His breath came in short, quick, stabs, and his exhales carried that panicked sobbing I’d heard from my room.  Now that I was closer I could also hear frantic words spilling out of him.

 

“…no no no no no no gotta get away gotta get outa here don’t let her don’t let her don’t-“ his words were interrupted as another breath ripped into and out of him again in a series of uncontrolled sobs.  “..gotta get out gotta get out gotta get out…”

 

I approached him cautiously, careful not to get in the way of his frantic pacing.  “Hey man,” I said when he was facing my direction.

 

He stopped with a gasp and looked directly at me.  His eyes were wide for a split second before they narrowed.  “Who’re you?  What’re you doing here?” He demanded.

 

“I’m—“ I started, but his eyes widened again and he interrupted me.

 

“Tegan!”  He blinked and looked around.  “You were one of her—“ He cut himself off to take a breath, and he seemed suddenly relieved, almost overjoyed.  “Oh my god it’s not real none of it’s real,” he breathed.  “What’s your name?”

 

“Tegan,” I confirmed.

 

“I fuckin knew it,” he looked around again.  He seemed much more lucid now.  “Where is this?  Is it some kind of school?”

 

“This is a mental hospital, dude,” I answered him.

 

He looked at me for a moment with his nose scrunched and his brow furrowed.  Then he shrugged and looked around again.  “Ok I guess that makes sense.”

 

“What’s your name?” I asked him.

 

“You can call me D.”

 

“Who’re you trying to get away from, D?”

 

“Uuuh, it doesn’t matter anymore.”  D shook his head and went to the door to look out into the hallway.  He clearly didn’t want to talk about it.

 

I walked past him and gestured for him to follow me.  I led him towards my room, but I stopped on the way there as I picked up the sound of sniffling again.  I poked my head into another dark room and found a thin woman with her hair buzzed short sitting on a bed trying to be quiet.

 

“Hey, Corey,” I said gently from the doorway.

 

She startled and looked up at me with wide eyes.  “Oh,” she breathed after a short moment, “Tegan.”

 

“Yea,” I said with a smile, “you wanna come with us?  I just found this dude, goes by ‘D’.”

 

Corey wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweater.  She looked at our feet for a moment before she nodded her head and stood up.  I held out my hand as she shuffled over to us.  When she was close enough she reached for me and I took her hand to pull her into a hug.  She sobbed into my shoulder a few times before she pulled back.

 

“You ok?” I asked gently.

 

“Mm-hmm.” She nodded her head.

 

The three of us went back to my room, where Reba was waiting for me, rocking gently back and forth on the edge of her bed.

 

“Hey, Reba,” I said with a smile, “I found some friends.”

 

She sprung up from the bed and fidgeted excitedly.  She looked at D briefly then focused on Corey.  “Cor!”

 

“Reeb!” Corey answered and slipped past me to greet Reba.

 

I gestured D over to my bed and sat down.  He followed me and perched himself as far away from me as he could while still sitting on the bed.  He absently picked at some dry skin on his fingertips and around his nails.  I could see now that there were scars peeking out from under the cuff of his sweater, and his fingertips were raw and gnarled as though he frequently chewed on them.  Just as I noticed this D brought his hand to his mouth and gnawed off the hangnail he’d just created.

 

“Is this your room?” D asked eventually.

 

“Yep,” I answered.

 

“And that’s your roommate?”  He gestured to Reba, who was currently occupied by playing patty-cake with Corey.

 

“Yep,” I said again.

 

“Isn’t that weird?” He asked me.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Why’s it co-ed up in here, man?”  D clarified.  “Shouldn’t they be in a different wing or something?”

 

I shrugged.  “I dunno.  It’s always been like this.”

 

“This seems like a shitty hospital.”

 

“Well,” I chuckled, “yeah.”

 

The chime played over the PA system, and a bored voice informed us that the animals were here and waiting to play with us.

 

Reba bounced up and down excitedly.

 

“You like animals, D?” I asked.

 

D shrugged.  “I like cats I guess.”

 

“Good!  C’mon.” I lead everyone to the Rec. Room, which was already filling with other patients.

 

I heard D’s breath change and I glanced down at him.  He was looking at the other people.  His shoulders were tight and high, and they moved slightly when he breathed.  His face was neutral, but that didn’t fool me.  I knew deliberate neutrality when I saw it.  D was stressed the hell out by all these people.  His breath gave it away.  It was too shallow and too fast.

 

“Hey, D,” I said as I gently placed my hand on his shoulder.

 

D flinched away from me and shouted, “Don’t fuckin’ touch me!!”

 

Most of the patients ignored the outburst, after a long enough time here you just didn’t even hear stuff like that anymore, but a few orderlies kept their eyes on us.

 

I quickly grabbed Corey by the arm and whispered in her ear, “I’ll be right back, make sure Reba doesn’t squeeze anything.”

 

I turned back to D and said, “I’m sorry.  Let’s get outa here.”

 

D followed me out of the Rec. Room, where a security guard looked at us suspiciously.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Nowhere.  There’s just too many people.”

 

“Well go back to your room then.  You’re either in there or in your room.”

 

“Sure, no problem,” I said and took D back to my room.  

 

“Are you okay?” I asked.

 

“I’m fine!” D shouted and turned his back to me.

 

“It’s okay, man,” I said, “just breathe.”

 

“I AM fucking breathing!  I couldn’t be TALKING to you if I wasn’t fucking BREATHING!”

 

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” I said calmly.  “What I meant was.. try to breathe *deeper.*”

 

I heard D take a deliberate breath.

 

“There y’go,” I said.

 

“You can go back if you want.  I’m fine.” D said.

 

I felt that disagreeing with him might just make things worse, so I quietly left him alone in my room.  

 

I went back to the Rec. Room, ignoring the security guard who eyed me suspiciously, and approached one of the cat-handlers.  “Hey,” I said, “there’s too many people here for my friend, but I think he wanted to see the cats.  Can we bring one to him in my room?”

 

The handler considered this briefly then smiled as she said, “I don’t see why not.”

 

I thanked her and led her back to my room.  

 

I knocked on the doorframe.  “Hey D, I’m back.”  I poked my head inside.  D was sitting, folded over, in the middle of the floor with the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up.  I couldn’t see his face, but I could hear tiny gasping sobs coming from him.

 

He didn’t acknowledge me.

 

Silently I took the cat from the handler and gestured for her to stay in the doorway.  I crept closer to D and sat down on the floor in front of him.

 

“I got something I think you’re gonna like,” I said, trying to tempt him out of his cocoon.

 

I held the cat in my lap and rubbed my fingers under its chin.  The cat leaned into me and began to purr loudly.  D’s breath shifted slowly, and finally he peeked out from under his hood.  

 

“You wanna pet ‘im?” I offered, and D reached an unsteady hand toward the cat.

 

The cat eagerly nuzzled his head into D’s hand, and D smiled a little.  The cat crawled out of my lap and settled into D’s, purring happily while D ran his chewed up fingers over its fur.

 

I glanced toward the doorway at the cat’s handler and bit my lip.  After a short moment of consideration, I asked my question.  “Hey, uh.. just wondering.. you can see this kid, right?”  I gestured to D.

 

I was in this mental hospital because I kept talking to people nobody else could see.  There were ghosts everywhere, as it turned out.  I knew they were ghosts, because some of the other patients could see them— I know what you’re thinking.  Other crazy people couldn’t possibly confirm anything, but listen; how likely is it for two people to hallucinate the same exact thing at the same time?  Or three?  Or four people?  There were a number of patients here who weren’t crazy, they just saw spirits and either wouldn’t stop acknowledging them, or couldn’t tell the difference between a ghost and a living person.  

 

Sometimes I could tell the difference, but not all the time.  Really new ghosts seemed like living people a lot of the time, and this kid seemed like he.. well.. I mean.. I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but he really seemed like a suicide risk and it was entirely possible that this kid did it just before I met him.

 

The cat handler gave me a warm, yet sympathetic, smile and nodded her head.

 

“Good news, D, that means you’re fully corporeal.”

 

D rolled his eyes.  “Oooh, good for me.” 

 

The cat handler chuckled quietly under her breath.

 

D seemed really content playing with the cat.  He was still smiling and the tremble was gone from his hands. He was even starting to make little noises at the cat.  It was barely audible, but he was definitely clicking and cooing at it.  The cat seemed to enjoy it.

 

The handler waited for about ten minutes or so before she carefully stepped towards us and gestured towards the cat.  “It’s time-“  She stopped speaking abruptly when D suddenly let the cat go and scooted himself across the floor away from her.  He stared at her as she continued slowly forward to collect the cat.  His eyes were locked on her until she left the room, and then he stared at the doorway until we couldn’t hear her footsteps down the hallway anymore.

 

D had himself backed up against my bed.  I casually climbed onto it and stretched out.  Sometimes it was a good move to not even acknowledge something like this.  I’d wait a moment to see if he came out of it on his own.

 

I heard a muffled sob bubble past his lips as I stared at the ceiling.  He was starting to thaw out and process the panic that had previously arrested all movement.  A lot of people appreciated comfort during this process, but D didn’t like to be touched.  I reached under my pillow and retrieved an old stuffed animal that I’d had since before I could remember.  It was a brown dog with droopy eyes and no stuffing left in his middle.  Careful not to touch him, I reached past his shoulder and dropped the dog into his lap.

 

He froze again for a moment.  I looked back up at the ceiling.  He didn’t seem like the kind of kid who liked having an audience while he struggled like this.  If he looked to see if I was watching, I wouldn’t be.

 

“This is.. this is Marcy’s..” He said.

 

I propped myself up on my elbows and looked down at him.  “What?”

 

He twisted around to look at me. “This is.. do you know..?” His swollen eyes searched my face, then dropped back to the stuffed dog in his hands.  “No, you don’t..”

 

“What?” I said again.

 

“It’s… it’s nothing.  Listen, uuh.. I’m like.. psychotic or something.  Sometimes I say shit that don’t make sense.  Move on.”  He turned around again and held my dog in his lap.  “What’s it’s name?”

 

“His name is Copper, after the dog from..”

 

“The dog from the Fox and the Hound, yeah..” He finished my sentence.

 

I stared at him.  He glanced back at me briefly before occupying himself with tracing his fingers over the worn and threadbare wrinkles around Copper’s eyes.

 

I didn’t see D again the next day, but I only had time to worry about that very briefly.  Things were getting sort of.. hectic.  It seemed like a new patient showed up every time I turned around, and most of them didn’t seem to understand where they were.  A lot of them were around my age too.  When I tried to talk to them it seemed like a lot of them were totally coherent, just confused.

 

Usually if somebody showed up and didn’t understand where they were, it was because they had memory problems or they had trouble interpreting reality.  Those people were not always easy to talk to.  They responded in ways that didn’t make sense or repeated themselves a lot.  

 

These people though.. they mostly seemed really normal.  Like they just needed a vacation from something terrible in their lives, not like they needed to be in a mental hospital.  Some of them really needed help, but not the kind of help they’d get from *this* place.

 

A kid named Marco showed up.  He reminded me of D a little, except he was much better at keeping himself angry so that nobody would see him break.  There weren’t any scars on his hands or arms, but I had a feeling he just kept them somewhere else.

 

Reba was afraid of Marco.  I think that made him feel bad, but he couldn’t control the anger around her.  I think feeling bad about it just made it worse.  Marco and D both seemed like the kind of kid who got knocked around a lot at home, or worse.  I never asked though.

 

There was a kid named Artemis.  He was shy and kept to his room most of the time.  When I found him he was sitting on the couch in the Rec. Room, curled into a tight little ball.  His eyes were wide and staring towards the old TV, but he wasn’t watching the screen.  He was listening.  I moved toward him and his eyes flickered in my direction.

 

“Hi, I’m Tegan,” I said warmly.

 

His eyes flickered toward me again.  “Artemis,” he said.

 

“Do.. do you know where you are?”

 

His eyes rolled around the room before resettling on the TV.  “No.”

 

“You’re in a mental hospital.”

 

A gust of breath that seemed halfway between a scoff and a laugh burst through his lips.  “That figures,” he said.  His eyes brimmed with tears and he hid his face behind his knees.  “Shit,” he mumbled into the fabric of his trousers.

 

“Do you know why?” I pressed.

 

“Because I can’t DO things that regular people can do!  I’m fucking useless! Or—“ he stopped breathing for a moment before he continued in a hushed tone.  “Or they found out I have a boyfriend…”

 

“Oh.” I thought for a moment. “I don’t think they do conversion therapy here though.. I mean.. I could be wrong but I’ve been here a *while* and I’ve never met anyone who was in for that.”

 

“Yea.. ok.. if they found out the nuns would probably just.. I mean who wants a record of something like that, they’d just beat it out of me.. the same way they got me to stop writing with my left hand… It must be.. It must be because I’m a useless weirdo.  That has to be it.”

 

Artemis rocked himself back and forth.  I felt sorry for him.  His parents must be religious.  Non-religious parents didn’t usually send their kids to places where nuns would beat the evil out of you.  Was it the Catholics who thought left-handed people were evil?  Or was that somebody else?

 

I wasn’t sure.

 

David was an adult who seemed like he should really be in AA instead of a mental hospital.  This wasn’t a rehab center.  When they brought him in he was three sheets to the wind.  They didn’t even drag him to a room or anything, they just set him down against a wall and left him.  I watched him stare at the ceiling, trying to make the world stop spinning.  His head weaved back and forth and he braced against the floor and the wall like the room was barreling down the highway at 90mph.

 

“Hey man, you alright?” I asked him, careful to speak clearly but also not too loud.

 

He looked at me, then grunted and squeezed his eyes shut before abruptly opening them again and muttering to himself, “no that’s worse.”  He carefully lifted one hand and slid his glasses down his nose, but he also undid this action quickly with a mumble of, “nope. Worse.”

 

I watched his face go pale and I started to say, “do you need to-“ when he abruptly vomited on himself.

 

I tried to get the attention of anyone on staff, but it was like nobody could hear me.  So I shrugged and stooped down to try and help the man up.  After a moment of struggling it became clear that he did not have the ability to stand up.  He was too drunk and too tall to keep his balance.  I finally decided to just drag him into a bathroom.

 

I pushed myself between him and the wall and hooked my arms under his.  I dragged him backwards across the tile floor.  He didn’t protest except for the queazy sounds that bubbled out of him as a result of our jarring movements.  I propped him up against the wall across from the sinks and retrieved a handful of paper towels from the dispenser.

 

I talked to him while I cleaned him up to distract him from how unpleasantly wasted he was.  Like a lot of drunk people, it was not difficult to get him to tell me all the reasons his life was complete bullshit.  For starters, his career was a joke.  He was a nurse, which is a line of work that gets less respect than it deserves even if you aren’t a man doing ‘women’s work’.  He had aspired to be a doctor, but he couldn’t make it work and his parents weren’t exactly thrilled.  David was bitter because he *knew* he would have made a great doctor if he’d only managed to get through the program.  He didn’t like how the doctors at his hospital did their jobs.  He didn’t like how they didn’t really listen to the patients or the recommendations of the nurses who *had* listened to the patients.  He didn’t like how they glanced at a chart without fully reading it and thought they knew everything.  He hated how most of them were in it for the money and didn’t even really care about helping people.  He hated the healthcare system and insurance companies who were willing to let patients suffer and eventually die because money was more important than human life.

 

David hated everything.

 

I’m pretty sure he hated himself.

 

Alex was another adult who drifted through the mental hospital.  I thought for sure he was going to be staying long term, but he disappeared after a day or so.  This one thought he was an android.  He said he was probably here because of a misunderstanding.  His emotion processors had been switched off for a long time and he was beginning to malfunction as a result.  While I spoke with him he would switch between calm neutrality and  near hysterical outbursts of emotion.  Usually the outburst was one of deep sadness, but occasionally he displayed anger.  After each episode he would return to his calm state and apologize casually for the disruption.

 

Jonathan was close to my age.  He was 16, maybe 17.  I met him during mealtime.  He was sitting alone at a table, so Reba and I decided to be friendly.  He seemed totally normal.  His speech was organized and clear, and his tray was tidy.  None of his food touched and he ate one item completely before starting on the next thing.  Maybe he was a little obsessive compulsive, but not to the degree that he needed to be in a hospital.  

 

He was even nice to Reba.  Many of the patients who actually needed to be here couldn’t stand each other.  Their various issues rubbed up against each other, and Reba was no exception.  But John was delightful and Reba seemed to really like him.  He didn’t even seem upset when she noticed his eyes were two different colors and announced the fact loudly for the whole room to hear.  He just smiled, and laughed.

 

At the end of the meal I saw him slip the small stack of unused paper napkins from the corner of his tray into the pocket of his sweater.  When the patients all lined up for pill time he pocketed the little plastic cup they were served in.  I watched the corner of his eye twitch almost imperceptibly every time the other patients tossed their plastic cup into the trash.

 

I was starting to have a hunch about why he was here.

 

“Hey what room do they have you in?” I asked casually.

 

Reba clapped her hands and piled on. “Yes! Yes! Where d’you live!?”

 

Jonathan chuckled and led us to his room.  

 

It didn’t *look* like the room of a hoarder, but I supposed he just got here and hadn’t had a chance to accumulate a pile of useless crap yet.  Or, he was keeping it hidden so that the hospital staff wouldn’t take it.  My eyes lingered on the thin shadow at the edge of the bed where the blankets almost touched the floor.  I didn’t see anything peeking out.

 

John told us a little bit, but not much.  He said he was a musician. He was a little upset he couldn’t have his violin here.  He also told us that he’d been living with his grandmother, but she died a few months ago and.. well he wasn’t doing so great.  He didn’t elaborate on what that meant.  Whatever mental weirdness he was struggling with, he didn’t seem to want to talk about it.

 

I didn’t ask.

 

Regina was 19.  She preferred to be called ‘Reggie’, and she didn’t seem like a crazy person either.  Mostly she seemed sort of depressed and lethargic, but that was no reason to be institutionalized, I thought.  Like D, she knew my name before I told it to her.  I assumed she had been here briefly before and remembered me.  There were a lot of people coming and going from this place, there was no way I would remember all of them.

 

I heard squabbling coming from inside one of the bathrooms and I poked my head inside.  It was D again, and he appeared to be harassing somebody inside one of the stalls.

 

“GO AWAY, DANTE!” It sounded like Artemis’ voice.

 

D pounded the side of his fist against the door and the whole stall rattled.  “That’s *D* to you, Arty!”

 

“Then don’t call me ARTY!” Artemis screamed back and the stall rattled again as he struck it from the inside.

 

“What’re you gonna do about it!?  Huh?!” 

 

“You don’t wanna find out what I’m gonna do about it, you little shit!”

 

“WHO’RE YOU CALLIN’ LITTLE?” D’s voice echoed off the tile.

 

“YOU!  You fuck-face!  I’m fucking bigger than you!!”

 

“Oooh, I’m so fucking scared of you while you’re HIDING IN THE BATHROOM!!”

 

“I just want to be LEFT ALONE!”  I could hear Artemis banging his fists against the stall with every word.

 

“D!” I called from the doorway.  “Leave him alone-“ I glanced out into the hallway. “You’re *both* gonna get sedated if you don’t keep it down!”

 

“Oh yeah?” D turned and smirked at me.  “How loud do I gotta be before someone comes in here with a needle?  I could use a fix about now.”

 

I scoffed.  “Just leave Artemis alone.  He hasn’t done anything to you.”

 

“How would you know?!  You just fucking got here!”

 

I crossed my arms.  “Because I’ve met him, and I’ve met you.  *You’re* the kind of guy who starts shit.  He’s not.”

 

“Well you’re wrong.”

 

“Oh really?  What’d he do?” 

 

“Are you *kidding*?”  D turned back to the stall where Artemis was holed up. “It’s everything about him!  It’s fucking offensive!  His stupid fucking FACE!  His stupid fucking HAIR!  He’s always drawing in his STUPID sketchbook!” D punctuated each item by hitting the stall.  From inside I heard Artemis sniffle.  “He CRIES ALL THE TIME!  He can’t stop TWIRLING HIS FUCKING HAIR!!  And he’s just gonna SIT IN THERE and LET ME—“

 

The stall door slammed open. Artemis grabbed a fistful of D’s shirt and shoved him against the wall.  “SHUT UP!!  JUST FUCKING SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE!”

 

D’s eyes seemed to unfocus and his face went slack for a moment.  I rushed toward them.

 

“Artemis!  Arty!  Hey!”  I put my hands over his hands.  “Let go.  It’s alright.  It’s ok, just let him go.  Ok?”

 

Artemis softened a little then let go of D and locked himself inside the stall again.  D wobbled and I grabbed him by the sweater to keep him upright.  I pulled him out into the hallway and sat him down against the wall.

 

“Dude, what the fuck was that?” I said.

 

I could hear Artemis crying even through the heavy bathroom door.

 

“I know right?  Fucking freak,” D mumbled.

 

“I’m talking about *you dude*,” I clarified, “turn you head.”  Dante turned his head and I gently tapped the back of his skull. “Does that hurt?”

 

“Ow— *Yes*!” Dante pressed his hand to the back of his head and glared at me.

 

“Well it’s not bleeding so that’s good.”

 

“Yea, I’ve had worse.”

 

I settled in on the floor and sighed.  “Why would you provoke him like that?”

 

“Because it’s easy,” D said.

 

“So you’re just a bully then.”

 

“Y’know what, man, I don’t fuckin’ need this from you.”  Dante staggered to his feet.

 

“Seems like you need it from *some*body,” I said without getting up.

 

Dante glared at me and shuffled off down the hall.  He muttered something under his breath that sounded like, “gotta get the fuck outa here.”

 

I waited for him to meander a ways away before I went back into the bathroom where Artemis was still howling.  He was sitting on the floor wedged between the toilet and the stall partition.  I could see his feet and legs.  They flinched when the door swung shut behind me.

 

“Go away!” He shouted.

 

“Hey,” I said gently as I got down on the floor to peer under the stall, “D’s gone.  It’s just me.  It’s Tegan.”

 

Artemis sniffled and took a breath.  Now that somebody else was in the room he was mostly silent.  I could see him straining and trembling with the effort it took to hold it all in.

 

I slithered awkwardly under the partition.

 

“It’s alright,” I grunted as I pulled my lanky legs into the stall behind me and folded them to fit.  “This is a shitty place for your folks to dump you.  I cried a lot when I got here too.  It’s ok.  D’s just an asshole.”

 

Artemis didn’t look at me.  Tears continued to run down his face and the corners of his mouth were drawn down in a sharp frown.  His chin wrinkled intermittently when he suppressed a sob.

 

“Really,” I said, “it’s ok.”

 

His hand was in his hair, clutching at the roots, knuckles white.

 

“You wanna know something?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “D cries a lot too.  The first time I saw him he was basically hysterical.  Followed me back to my room like a lost puppy… didn’t think he’d turn out to be so mean.”

 

Artemis sucked in a ragged breath and held it.

 

“I’m sorry he did this to you,” I added.

 

Artemis disolved.

 

I reached for him.  

 

Artemis unfolded himself from his hiding place and clung to me.  I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight.  My fingers wove into his hair and cradled his head against my chest.

 

“It’s ok,” I murmured, “It’s alright.  Everything is alright.”

 

“I don’t wanna *be* like this anymore!” Artemis cried.

 

“I know,” I said, “I’m sorry everything sucks.”

 

Tears pricked my eyes and an involuntary breath gasped its way into me.  Everything really *did* suck.  I didn’t want to be here anymore.  I wanted to go home.  My family didn’t even really visit anymore.  They came on my birthday and Christmas— although last Christmas they didn’t.  Maybe we weren’t doing Christmas anymore.  Maybe it was just my birthday now.  I didn’t know if I wanted them to come at all anymore.  It was feeling more and more like pretending every time they visited.  Fake smiles.  Feigned interest.  They didn’t want to hear about me, they wanted to talk about themselves until it had been long enough that they could leave without being rude.

 

Now I was clinging to Artemis for my own comfort.  This wasn’t a feeling I’d really bothered to process before.  It really fucking hurt.  I was so lonely.  Sure there were people around, but I was always taking care of them.  Most of the people here were.. just *off*.  They weren’t my peers.  I always felt like the adult in the room, keeping the peace so the staff wouldn’t feel the need to manhandle any of us.  And my parents just fucking *left* me here with these people!  I didn’t deserve to be here!  I was normal, except for *one* thing that wasn’t even hurting anyone!

 

I didn’t notice the glowing until it was completely encompassing me.  I looked down at Artemis.  He was blurry through my tears but it looked like he was glowing too.  It got so bright I couldn’t see, and then it was just me.  But I didn’t feel like Artemis was gone.  I felt…

 

What *did* I feel?

 

My eyes tracked back and forth a few times as I adjusted to the sensation.  I still felt lonely, and hurt, and sad, but now I also felt.. worthless?

 

Oh.  God it hurt so much.  It was like a physical pain inside my chest and in my temples.  The shock of what happened was gone and my eyes filled again.  I curled up on the tile floor and wailed.  I couldn’t get it out.  I couldn’t make the pain stop.  Everything hurt and now I was *really* alone!  I didn’t understand what happened.  I didn’t know why I felt this way.  I didn’t know how to make it any better, and I didn’t have anyone to turn to!  I was the guy people went to!  If Reba were here at least she’d hug the air out of me, but she wasn’t here and I couldn’t get up!

 

I heard the bathroom door thud shut and part of me tried to quiet down, but I couldn’t shut my voice off the way Artemis had earlier— and anyway why was I trying to be quiet?  This was a fucking mental hospital.  People oughta expect to find random patients lying about in fucking crisis mode.  I didn’t even care if I got sedated right now.  I didn’t want to be experiencing this anymore.  It was too much!

 

“Are.. are you ok?” A woman’s voice.  Footsteps coming closer.

 

“Reggie?” I heard myself say, even though I hadn’t really put her name to the voice yet.  My own voice sounded.. strange.

 

“Artemis?” I heard her get down on her hands and knees to look under the stall.

 

“…No?”  I was suddenly unsure for some reason.. which was ridiculous.  Because I knew who I was.. although when I thought about it directly I didn’t really.. feel.. the same..

 

Reggie crawled under the stall and made a small gasp when she looked at me.

 

“Oh, this is complicated,” she said.  “It’s ok though.  Everything is ok.  Here—“ Reggie snuggled up behind me and wrapped her arm around my middle.  I covered her hand with my hand and laced our fingers together.  I remembered meeting her a very short time ago, but somehow now I felt close to her.  I felt like I’d spent a lot of time with her.  Like our relationship was somehow deep and involved and.. intimate.

 

“I’ll explain everything later,” she continued, “I know it’s confusing now, but it’ll all make sense.  I promise.  Everything’s ok.  It’s ok.”

 

The part of me that was trying to be quiet gave up.  I resumed my tortured sobbing, and Reggie squeezed me tight.