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Story of Kerri (P1)
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A picture of me sits on top of the cabinet in my terribly clinical room at the institute; not a bad room, but its size is lacking.
As it is there's a single bed; a chair; the aforementioned cabinet; a corkboard, which hangs over the bed; and a sink. The large window lets a great amount of natural light into the room, the same with all the rooms here. I guess the purpose of it is to create the cheery atmosphere that the doctors think we need. If you ask me, we need a lot more than just a bit of sunlight.
No matter what the statistics tell the world: we don't commit suicide 'cause the weather's bad. The reason that more people die at their own hands, in the seasons when the weather is bad; is that a stigma is created that makes those with the mentality to do it, more depressed.
The picture of me that has been used to entice you is that of a smiling, happy, fifteen year old girl. It wasn't taken that long ago; only a few months ago. I looked so happy in that picture, I don't know how I pulled it off... but I did. Truth be told I was miserable, have been for years. It wasn't long after I posed for that photo that I made my first suicide attempt.
So in case you were wondering why I'm here, there's your reason: I'm considered at risk - from myself.
I actually go against the norm. I'm one of the few self-harmers that have tried to end it. Not that I'm the only girl in here who self injures, don't get me wrong. But most of them are in here 'cause they've got overprotective parents who had them committed when they found out.
No, I'm here because of the incident that severed both my radial arteries. It's not as gory as it sounds, there's one girl in here who took a meat cleaver to her femoral arteries - seriously, I've seen the pictures.
That's what they do, they want to see what progress you're making. They take photos of scars, and things that haven't healed yet. However they can never seen all the scars on the inside.
Though I'm not sure I have scars on the inside, I have an empty hole. One which has been growing since I was twelve.
Nevertheless, I’d better not get side-tracked: back to that day.
I have a lot of days now. One thing they teach us here in all those group sessions: Don't think about what could happen tomorrow, think about how good today is. But it's not what you want to hear when you're having a bad day.
I woke up to the tannoy speaker in the corner of my room, giving the morning wake up call.
"Good morning. It's a beautiful day- and we would love your presence at breakfast in half an hour."
One day I might get so annoyed with that thing I end up tearing it from the wall. The nurses that make all the announcements make them in such fake voices, they must think we're all stupid. No one in this place is under thirteen, we don't need to be spoken to like five year olds.
The majority of the girls here are very clever, you have to be when you're hiding such serious things from all the people around you.
In here you will find anorexics; bulimics; girls with differing levels of depression, from stress related depression, to manic depressives; and those with more neurological problems, chemical imbalances that sort of thing.
I hate getting up in the mornings, I don't see the point of being up that early. Some people on the other hand love it. For instance, my friend Elle who normally comes to make sure I get up in time for breakfast.
Today is no exception, she pushes open the partially opened door and comes to sit on my bed, which I am still laying in. "Kerri, are you asleep? You need to be getting up now."
I turn over to face her, "Why?"
She tuts at me in a way that only she can get away with. “‘Cause breakfast's in twenty five minutes- it's scrambled eggs this morning!"
She knows I hate scrambled eggs, even more than any other type of food in the morning. Yet she always makes a point to tell me what is being served. "Yuck. Elle, how on earth can you be so god damn preppy in the morning?!"
She gives me a light-hearted frown, "I'm not preppy, I’m just a morning person- just like you're an after-nine-pm-person... so, you're going to get up now?"
I close my eyes and put my hands over my face, "I guess I have to... but I think I'll skip the scrambled eggs."
After a few seconds I remove my hands from over my eyes, groan and start to get out of bed. When I move to pull back the duvet, Elle gets up from her seat on the bed. I make my way over to the sink and begin to wash my face.
Elle moves the few steps to the cabinet and touches the photo frame, without looking round she addresses me once more, "Do you want me to wash your hair?"
"Yeah, thanks," I answer her. "It's so annoying that my shower time has been changed to the evening. I really need to wash my hair each morning."
She picks my shampoo up from the top of the cabinet and comes to stand next to me as I begin to run water in the sink. When I've finished filling the sink I pull off my night-dress (which has long sleeves), leaving me in PJ shorts and a camisole top; When you're trying to cover scars you get used to wearing layers.
I never wear short sleeved tops outside my room, the only people who have seen the scars on my arms are my doctors and some of my closest friends- even my parents haven't seen them. Similarly, only my doctors have seen the ones on my legs and stomach.
I gather up my long hair and lean my head over the sink, Elle takes the cup from the basin and wets all my hair from the back. As she starts to rub the shampoo into my scalp, she tells me again that maybe if my hair wasn't so long I might not have to wash it everyday. I like my hair long, I can hid behind it. Besides, it gets really greasy and tangled if I only wash it before going to bed. Though whenever I told her this she was always inclined to tut at me.
When I'm ready, Elle and I go down to the dining room. From where we enter by the side door, we can see Ashlyn sitting at our usual table. She raises a glass of orange juice to her lips.
Ashlyn is my ideal woman, from her long dark brown hair and eyes that I constantly feel I'm drowning in, to the way she makes me feel. She's been here longer than me, and from the second day I got here- when I met her- she's become my reason for getting out of bed in the morning. She has this incredible affect on me, she can make me feel better when I'm having one of my bad days, and she can make me feel great when I'm having one of my good days.
Ashlyn smiles at us as we walk over to her, putting her glass on the table she leans back on her chair. As we get closer she winks at me, "Hey. Scrambled eggs- oh the excitement, I can barely contain it."
I roll my eyes at her, "Morning Ash. How's the orange juice today?"
She wrinkles her nose, "Bitter (and twisted) just like this place."
She picks up her glass and raises it towards me, I take it from her and try the liquid inside. I flinch at the terrible aftertaste, it's that horrible long life stuff. I remember when my mum used to make orange juice from old oranges that had been left too long to eat, it would be proper- with the bits in it.
I shake my head and hand the glass back to Ashlyn, our hands brush as she takes the container. We keep eye contact throughout this exchange and also as Ashlyn tells Elle that all the bloody scrambled eggs would be gone if she didn't get her arse moving.
When Elle had left to go in search of her scrambled eggs, I sat next to Ashlyn at the table. She reaches out and tucks some of my hair behind my ear, "How are you feeling today Kerri?"
All the better for seeing you, I say in my head. "I'm fine."
"But what does fine mean to any of us in here." A statement, not a question. She leans her arms on the table, looking at me with those wonderful eyes.
I love the way she does that: the simple insight she has. She can always amaze me with the profound quality that her words are given by her saying them. She is so understanding, the tenderness she has shown me in my time here if proof enough of that. I feel like a book that she wants to read, but she has only been given the sleeve of the volume; she should read what’s inside, but cannot because it has been shut to her.
A though suddenly occurred to me. I hold the key to those pages.
If I'm ever going to get anywhere with her I need to open up to her a lot more than I have previously. I grab her hand from the table, pulling her up and out of her chair.
"There's something I need you to see." Directing her to follow me, while keeping hold of her hand, I lead her out of the dining room.
Once we are back in my room, the nearest to get to, I ask her to please sit down; she settles herself on the bed, it's obvious that she has no clue what I have in mind.
She opens her mouth to ask me a question, I quickly sit next to her and take hold of both of her shoulders. "Please don't say anything, not yet Ash, please."
I look into her eyes, searching for the calming qualities I always hope to find there. When I know she isn't going to say anything, I let go of her arms.
I move back from her a little, and as I do so I pull up the sleeve of my top- which normally covers me down to my knuckles. This action exposes the skin beneath the material, and all the silver and pink scars that were hiding under it.
"I need there to be honesty between us, so I needed you to see these. I'm sorry, I hope this doesn't... trigger you." As I say it I realise how stupid I've been, I can't remember what her triggers are. Suddenly I feel so scared for her, what this might do to her.
"I'm sorry Ash, I didn't think... I'm so selfish. I'm sorry. So sorry." I can feel the tears sliding down my cheeks, as I begin to run my words together.
Then I feel Ash's arms around me, her own tears on the skin at the crook of my neck. One of her hands moves into my hair, now wet from our mixed tears.
"Oh Kerri..."
No more words are needed between us, we simply sit there clinging to each other for support. For each other we are pillars of strength, all we need is to hold each other till the end of time then everything will be alright. I'm sure of it, she's what I want. But it must be too much to hope that she feels the same way.
No more words were exchanged between us as we disentangled ourselves from one another, nor came to pass as we left my room.
What had happened had only taken fifteen minutes, though the monumental effect it had had on us was more than words can truly describe, in fact I'm not sure I'd want to try.
Now I faced the uncertainty that comes with not knowing what would happen next; due to the fact that as we exited through my door, Ashlyn had squeezed my shoulder and nodded towards the double door that led back to the main part of the building. Behind the glass of that door I could see Elle further down the corridor, walking towards us; though it was clear she had yet to spot us.
I had turned to see Elle, and now Ash leaned her forehead against the side of my head- the left side as it happens. All she said, very quietly into my ear, was "I've got a session, I'll see you later."
Her touch left the side of my head, leaving it cold in the air of the white hallway. Then she was gone.
My eyes moved to follow her retreating form down the corridor to my left. When she had turned the corner I returned my gaze to the door that Elle was just about to push open.
I leaned back against the wall next to the entrance to my room and took a deep breath; I was then suddenly overcome by what had just happened on the other side of that door. I slid down into a sitting position on the cold floor.
By this time Elle had reached the door and was half way through its reassuring boundary, it felt like the barricade it had provided was being thrown aside by the feelings I wasn't prepared to let her see.
She obviously hadn't seen me until that point because she called out to me, and began to come towards me more swiftly than before. The swing of the door and her footsteps on the crisp tiles, gave a terribly haunting echo to her words of pained concern. "Kerri, are you ok?"
When she reached me she dropped to her knees, took my hands in her own and pulled them towards her so that I was forced from my slumped position to one of better posture.
She looked at me in a way that I can only describe as imploring. As she did all this I had looked up and into her face. "Kerri?"
"I'm fine. Honesty Elle, you mother me too much..."
She cut me off, "With good reason."
"I just got up from my chair too quickly and my vision went black as I came out of the door. I had to sit down, that's all."
When she asked me if I was sure, I said I was. Then, as usual, she tutted then pulled me up before saying: "Where did you get to at breakfast? You both just buggered off and left me. Believe me, life's too short for me to mind that much, I just wish you'd told me you were going."
"I'm sorry, I really couldn't handle the smell of that breakfast a second longer. Ash walked with me here, then she had a session to go to." I couldn't tell her what had just happened, even I didn't understand what had just happened.
"I'm sorry, Elle." I looked down, I couldn't meet her imploring gaze. But also I was afraid of what she might see in my own eyes; what she might see there I wasn't sure, but I knew I wasn't ready for her to know it. I felt as I hadn't done for quite some time; how I felt when people would talk about boyfriends and I would think: If only you knew, then I'd worry that they could tell what I was thinking by looking into my eyes, to see through them into my soul, and know my terrible secret.
I laugh at that now. It means so little to me, in the light of everything that's happened. I've had bigger secrets to keep.
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Continued in P2
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