Alone

Alone

I shift my weight on the white mattress where I sit. The padded walls are not quite the same shade of white as the mattress and I wonder if they have faded over time from the bright light overhead. The ceiling has a fascinating design dancing across alabaster tiles. The dots run in circles laughing and playing and I sit and watch them for a while.

The collar of the straightjacket itches but I cannot scratch it with restrained hands. I twist back and forth violently allowing the friction to scratch for me. It helps a little. The top strap of the jacket pokes me in the cheek and I attempt to move it with my tongue, but it is elusive, taunting. I try harder and manage to bite down on it. I may not be able to move it, but at least it isn’t poking me anymore.

It all started with my little brother. I remember I was still upset that day after the rejection I had received days earlier from the Psychology Department at the university. Who do they think they are? They needed test subjects; I needed money. How could they deny a starving college student the opportunity to earn some much needed cash based on one simple psychiatric evaluation? That idiot, Dr. Lawrence, had the nerve to sit behind his big cushy desk and tell me I wasn’t fit for the study? It’s absurd. How could they not accept me? Look at me! Obviously I am a prime candidate. It’s preposterous! I…I’m getting carried away.

It was just a sign of things to come.

Anyway, like I was saying, it all started with my brother, Robbie. In my opinion, you couldn’t ask for a better sibling than Robbie—or a better person for that matter. Straight A’s; captain of the high school basketball team; friends; girlfriends; smart; caring; LOVING!...

“ AAAGGGHH!!! ”

I cry out loud, the echoes absorbing quickly into the wall-padding. I lost so much… the world lost so much when Robbie died. I guess that was why it was such a shock. Suicide. I’d never been faced with suicide before. Never felt its effects except in stories and movies. Little did I know that it would quickly become the only thing I knew.

They said it was stress. The pressures of school and work and his upcoming graduation and choosing a college and any number of other excuses; I didn’t believe any of them.

The nurse must have heard my cries because here she is now checking up on me as I sit on the bed twisting in my jacket and chewing on my strap. She gives me a pill and mutters something about my nerves. I don’t like her, so I stare at the ceiling the whole time watching the tiles dance and play. Finally, she leaves.

As kids, Robbie and I were inseparable. We played together; worked together; stuck together. He always stuck up for me when the other kids would make fun of my glasses and I went to every one of his basketball games. We loved each other as only siblings could.

So how could he leave me now? How could he abandon me to the ravenous wolves of this dark world? Didn’t he love me? I thought he did. But if he did, then why did he feel the need to go away forever?

I remember coming home that day from school to find our front yard a circus of flashing lights and clowns dressed as paramedics. They were wheeling his covered body out on a stretcher. Mother was on the lawn in hysterics, Father kneeling over her trying in vain to comfort her. Even our dog, Sapphire, was sitting next to my parents, wailing. My dad’s swollen, bloodshot eyes met mine and I knew from that one wordless glance, full of pain, shame, anger, that Robbie was gone forever.

I ran to our hiding spot in the backyard beneath the lilac bushes and didn’t come out for days. I just lay there in the dirt staring at nothing, occasionally choking back a sob. Sapphire stayed with me the whole time, my only companion. My parents pleaded with me to come out, but I ignored them.

In the end it was my mother’s death that brought me out, drawn to the sounds of my father’s sobbing. Guilt, they said. That’s what drove her to it. Suicide. She blamed herself for Robbie’s death, even though no one could ever have suspected he would do such a thing. My father was the one who found her with the empty pill bottle. She had not even said goodbye.

Then again, neither had Robbie.

I didn’t cry for Mother. Don’t get me wrong, I mourned, but all of my tears had already been spent on Robbie. And there was something more there, besides sorrow. It shocked me when I realized what it was: anger. I was angry with Mother. Robbie’s death was hard on all of us. We all felt hurt, betrayed. But that was no reason for her to betray Father and me by giving up.

It’s obvious now that she loved Robbie more than me. Why else would she have left me to follow after him?

That night I was plagued by nightmares. Visions of Mother and Robbie laughing and pointing at me, having fun together, taunting me; or other times ignoring me. I may have slept, but I received no rest that night.

When I woke in the morning, Father was already gone. His car was not in the driveway so I assumed he had gone to the store or for a long drive to calm his nerves. I went downstairs where everything reminded me of Mother or Robbie. Tears welling up again, I dropped into my father’s recliner and, joined by Sapphire, fell into a fitful sleep.

I don’t know how long I slept for, but the pounding on the front door from the chief of police finally aroused me. They had found father’s car in the reservoir. Suicide. It would be three days before they would find his bloated body and pull it from the waters.

They said it was despair. Father could not live without Mother. Though he apparently thought I could live without him. I may technically be an adult, but I still need my family. I loved them all. Although I have learned that they didn’t love me back. At least, not enough to stay with me.

Sapphire was all I had left.

I stayed in the recliner for most of the day, Sapphire there with me. I thought about my family, reminiscing about all of the good times we had along with the bad, because good or bad, at least we had each other to make it through. That was more than they bothered to leave me now. I got up only once to yank the phone, which rang nonstop, from the wall and smash it to the ground. Around evening time I decided what I needed to do was take a hot bath to try to clear my mind. I couldn’t leave Sapphire in the house by herself or else she would pee on the carpet—she always did—so I took her out back and tied her to the tree where we always kept her. I then went in and ran the bath water.

I must have fallen asleep again because when I finally regained consciousness the bath water was freezing and my skin was so pruney that I looked like a sixty-year-old lady. I wrapped myself in my robe and went downstairs. It was dark outside. Feeling lonely for Sapphire I went to the back door to let her in.

She wasn’t there.

They said it was a freak accident. Sapphire had fought so hard to get free of the rope that she got herself tangled up in it and strangled to death. The neighbor had noticed her only after it was too late. She tried to get my attention when it happened but the door was locked and I was asleep upstairs in the tub.

That was when I snapped.

They said it was an accident, but I knew the truth. Suicide. Even my own dog didn’t love me enough to stay with me. She had gone with the rest of the family. Had left me all by myself.

Alone.

I sat down heavily on the floor and stared off into space. I didn’t move, didn’t respond. I think people were talking to me but I didn’t listen. I couldn’t take the risk of letting anyone else into my life. I didn’t want to drive anyone else to the extremes that my family had all taken. They may not have understood it, but it was for their own good that I ignored them; ignored them all.

At some point I was moved from my home to my new room with the bright lights and soft padding. I must have lashed out or at least they worried that I might, else they wouldn’t have wrapped me in this very restricting jacket. Maybe they thought I would follow in my family’s footsteps and end it all. But I wouldn’t. My death was too good for them. They wanted me to live my life without them, fine, I would. I still had my life, what little was left of it, and no one could take that away from me.

It must be medication time again because the door is opening. A man in a white robe is stepping in. I know this man. I recognize that smug little face. It’s Dr. Lawrence from the university. Oh how I wish I could slap him across the cheek. But I don’t. I just continue to stare at the ceiling. The tiles are performing a play now.

Dr. Lawrence pulls a chair over and sits down in front of me.

“Angela?” he says.

Angie , I correct, but I don’t say it.

“Angela, do you know who I am?”

It’s Angie! And of course I know who you are you putz. I don’t want to talk to him so I keep my eyes on the tiles.

“Angela, it’s Doctor Lawrence. I have some news for you. News that may shock you a little,” I continue ignoring him. “Do you remember a few weeks ago when you came to my office to volunteer for a psychiatric study? And I told you that you weren’t qualified for it? Well that wasn’t entirely true.

“You see, you actually did qualify for the study, but we couldn’t tell you that because we needed an unbiased mind free of any preconceptions. So we arranged with your family and friends to work with us to carry out the study. The money we promised you for participating has been deposited in your bank. You were not aware of it, but the study has been completed successfully and we are grateful for your assistance.”

He takes a deep breath. What is he saying?

“Angela, this past week had all been a sham; all part of the experiment. This may be hard to understand and may startle you, but your family is alive.”

And they think I’m crazy? This guy’s off his rocker. My family is dead. I know they are. I saw their bodies…come to think of it, no, I didn’t. Not one.

The door opens again and I hear a voice speak as if from heaven; my mother’s voice.

“Angie?”

* * *

Crazy?

Of course I’m crazy.

How could someone not be in my situation?

When your entire family is taken…no, taken is not the right word...When you entire family abandons you to this dark, empty world of misery and suffering, and then just comes back again, I don’t know anyone who could remain sane.