Crazy Kristen

Psychos belong in straightjackets and believe me, I’m no psycho. Yet here I find myself on Monday April 24th at 2:03 in the morning, locked away in a straightjacket. I’m positive of the date, April 24th, because today is my sixteenth birthday. Most girls get a car, or a party; but I get a straightjacket. I know its 2:03 because the lunatic in the room next to me shrieks once an hour on the hour, extra loud and long when the clock strikes midnight. She also bangs her head against the wall at the end of each minute. If I wasn’t sealed off from the world in a straightjacket I might bang my head against the wall, too. Not because I’m crazy (and I’m not) like everyone else here at Rainbow Ponies or Shiny Beaches or whatever the hell they named this place to entice people. I don’t know why they need to entice people to come here, it’s not like anyone enters by choice.
My mother called about a half hour ago because she couldn’t sleep. She feels so guilty about locking me away in this hellhole. She should. I guess you could consider that a one-way conversation considering I haven’t said a word since the moment I stepped in the door of this “rehabilitation center.” The cops dragged me hand-cuffed kicking and screaming though the parking lot, but about 2 feet away from the door I gave in and shut up. That was a few weeks ago though, when Chris died. Chris has been my best friend since we were little and watching him die, well that was hard. Apparently we aren’t allowed to grieve in the state of Illinois because a few tears and some shit-fuck-damn’s got me locked up like a mass murderer. Just thinking about him makes me want to shoot myself because it’s so fucking depressing.
“What the hell are you doing??” Some nurses just ran into my room like I was dying!
“Stay calm Kristen. We’re going to help you calm down.” The nurses are the freaking insane ones! One little tear rolled out of my eye and they’re trying to stab at me with ten different needles!
“I’m calm! What are you doing!? I’m just lying here in my damn straight jacket! How could I possibly not be calm!?” I screamed at them and moved as much away from them as one in a straightjacket can but that’s not much. They stabbed me with a shiny silver needle.
“What was that—“ The walls shivered and the floors quaked and then it was black.


I remember when I was fourteen my mother and I went to see October Sky in the theater. It’s a movie about a kid who has a dream to build a perfect rocket; I had read the book a couple months before. After the movie got out my mom sprung the news on me that she was engaged. I didn’t even know she was dating and all of sudden here she’s telling me she’s engaged. He met us for dinner; his name Neil.
He seemed normal enough, for a while. A professor at the local college and a member of local country club, Neil was a pretty well known guy. I was exactly the opposite; nobody knew I existed other than Chris. Once when I was walking home from school, a girl thought I was breaking into my own house and called the police to have me arrested because she had, “never seen me before.”
The lights turned on. No wait. That’s just my eyes opening. I suddenly remembered the straightjacket and the shots. “Kristen, do you want this phone call or not?” A woman poked her head through the window built into my door.
“I thought I’m required to take phone calls from my mom, to ‘heal our relationship’.” I didn’t really want to speak to my mother again after such a shitty night.
“You are. Now press the red button on the intercom.”
“I can’t. I’m in a—“ I realized I wasn’t. Stretching my arms I reached for the red button and heard the familiar click.
“Happy birthday Kristen!” said my mother and Neil. I gagged at the horrible, evil sound of his wretched voice.
“Umm… Thanks. I guess. Well listen, thanks for calling but I’ve really gotta be going.” I said as I heard the loud woman shriek next door. Wow, already noon, they must have really knocked me out.
“Okay well we’re gonna go get a bite to eat. Maybe we’ll drive out later to see you and bring you some birthday presents.” My mom added before hanging up. I was surprised they even remembered after all. I began thinking about my mom, and Neil, and what Neil did to me, and to Chris. I got so angry! How could she possibly believe him over me! She was living with a lunatic! He was the real psychopath in that house.


About a week after my mom and Neil got back from their honeymoon I caught him. I was changing for bed and there he was standing right outside my window, watching me. I ran out into the hall, (after pulling my shirt back on) screaming to my mom that she’d married some kind of sick freak. Neil came running in screaming that it was all a misunderstanding and I was being a “stupid little bitch.”
“You know me Margaret, I would never do something like that on purpose. Besides, I didn’t even see anything!’ He lied.
“Mom!” Then turning to Neil, “What the hell were you even doing in the backyard anyway! We never use the backyard.”
Neil lied again, “I was checking for apple’s on the big apple tree. Is that some sort of crime in Illinois?”
My mom came to that piece of scum’s defense, “Now Kristen, you are making an awful lot of accusations here. Sweetie, it’s not like you have anything for Neil to be looking at anyway. You’re just a little girl. Now go to your room and do some homework or something.”
“I’m 15! And a C-cup for that matter!” I was beyond screaming at this point. I’m surprised they even understood what I was saying, perhaps they didn’t.
“That’s it! To your bedroom right now!” That was the first time I’d heard my mother yell, ever. My courage shrank to the size of a penny and I walked slowly to my room. As I walked I heard them discussing what a problem I’d become, and what needed to be done about it.


At 3pm I had private sessions with a psychologist. Her name was Ms. Greene and she looked like she was barely out of high school. Obviously, my parents didn’t spend enough money on treatment for me. She was very nervous about talking to me, often stammering out her questions and not at all aggressive in conversation. We often sat in long silences before asking me how old I was or if I had anything I’d like to talk about. Today something was different; she seemed confidant.
“Kristen, you’ve been here for three weeks. I want you to tell me about Chris.”
“Chris?” I stuttered. She caught me completely off-guard
“Yes Kristen, you need to talk about Chris. Where did you meet Chris?” She asked.
“Well, um, I guess…Well we met in first grade. The teacher partnered everyone off for an art and I was left alone. She said I could be her ‘special buddy.’ Then in came Chris twenty minutes late, he was always so confident. He said he’d be my partner and we were just always together after that.” She started taking notes on a piece of paper vigorously. I wondered what she was writing. I mean what could possibly be important from the cute little story about how I met my best friend.
“And what does your mom think of Chris?”
“My mom never really liked when he came around, you know for dinner and stuff. I told her it would be impolite to ask him to leave so she let him stay. His favorite food of mother’s was always her green bean casserole. No one else ever liked it but him and my mother.”
“Did he come over for dinner often?”
“Well my mother also didn’t like me to go to his house for dinner. She doesn’t really like that my best friend is guy, doesn’t think it’s safe I suppose. I really don’t understand my mother, half the time she’s overprotective and the other half she’s as fake as plastic towards me. She’ll just plaster on a smile and offer me some candy.”
“Do you believe that your mother loves you?”
“Oh yes, I know she loves me. Sometimes she has a difficult way of showing it but I know she does.”
“And Chris, does he love you?”
“Chris is—“ Tears welled in my eyes. “You’ve got my damn file you know what happened! He killed him! That sick bastard killed my best friend! He just wanted an excuse to kick me out of my own damn house!”
“Kristen calm down! You know Neil didn’t kill Chris!”
I was screaming now, trying to make her understand. “You have to believe me! I know he killed Chris. I watched him do it! He took out his favorite shotgun. The hideous gun he makes us stick in a rack next to the fireplace. He kicked Chris to the ground and held the gun to his head! I watched him pull that trigger and laugh as he fell over! He laughed even harder when he heard me scream!”
The nurses came in and injected me. I fell down into the hallway spilling tears everywhere.

I woke again back in the straightjacket in my room. My head hurt like a hangover from falling so hard on the ground.
“Oh good you’re awake!” Ms. Greene was standing at my door.
I started to cry again, “You have to believe me Ms. Greene. You just have to!”
“Sweetie, I wish I could but I’ve met Neil. Neil could never kill a teenage boy, especially with no reason at all.”
“That’s just what he wants you to believe—“
“No, it’s not what he wants me to believe. It’s the truth, and it’s time Kristen. Time for you to cope with the truth you’ve known all along.”
Suddenly I remembered everything. “Get me a phone right now.”
“You don’t want to do this Kristen…”
“Yes I do damn it! Get me a phone right now!” Ms. Greene paged a nurse to bring her a phone. By now, tears were streaming from my eyes like a fountain as I tried to persuade my mind to ignore everything. Everything overflowed as I dialed the phone number of Chris’s parents.
“Hello. Mrs. Silver, it’s Kristen. I need you to tell them. Tell them what happened to Chris! Just tell them please!” I begged her to tell them I wasn’t wrong.
I heard her say to Mr. Silver, “Oh goodness. It’s the girl again, asking for Chris.”
“Mrs. Silver! I know he’s gone and I’m so sorry. I miss him very much but they don’t believe me here! They just can’t understand! Tell them what Neil did!”
Ms. Greene put her hand on my shoulder, “It’s okay Kristen. You knew all along.” I started rocking back and forth and shaking like a crazy person. “You knew there was never any Chris…”
I bawled for what seemed like hours and Ms. Greene just sat there with me, comforting me. Then I turned and looked up at her with tear-stained eyes, “But I’m not crazy…”
She rocked me like an innocent baby. She was a mother making everything okay. Making all the problems disappear. The mother I never had. “No sweetie, you aren’t crazy.”