Unhinge - Calia Read Page 0,78
The girl is dragged away, but not before I see the hurried attempt at self-infliction. The letters H and E are clear as day, dark red blood pooling out of the letters.
What’s the rest of her message? I’ll never know. I don’t want to know.
Reagan is sitting at another table. She’d winked at me when I walked into the room before Susan steered me away from her.
“Very nice, Victoria. Very nice,” the art teacher says. I’m pretty sure this lady who comes every Tuesday is the art teacher at the local high school.
I nod bluntly.
“Now what does this represent?”
“It’s a rainbow.”
“But what does it represent for Victoria?” She taps her chest emphatically. “What’s inside you that’s nothing but light and color?”
Her words are cliché, like they’ve been stolen from an after-school special. I try to take her words to heart, though. I really do. I tilt my head and focus on my deranged art. No matter how many times I stare at my rainbow, I can’t find the light that the art teacher keeps talking about.
The balance of my world is tipping. Thoughts and memories are sliding this way and that and I don’t know what to think or believe.
Art therapy ends. The scraps of papers are picked up. Supplies are put away. The room clears out. Only a few people remain. I am one of them.
The television is on in the dayroom. There’s some soap opera playing. Only the nurses who are sitting in there are watching. I stare at the screen with boredom.
A man is having a heated conversation with a woman who looks torn up and confused.
My chair screeches as I push away from the table and stand up. I have this restless energy that refuses to die. I pace the dayroom. I feel useless. I feel idle. I need to do something. If no one will help me, I need to help myself.
My head is throbbing. I should probably go lie down. I asked one of the nurses for some Advil more than an hour ago. I quickly washed them down with water. The pills aren’t helping. The pain in my head seems to be getting worse.
Evelyn’s in my arms. She’s not screaming. Just fussing, constantly squirming, as if she can’t make herself comfortable.
Just then, Reagan walks into the room, making a beeline in my direction. My body locks up. We haven’t spoken since I attacked her. Just as I predict, she confronts me head on, her signature smirk on her face. “Hi, Victoria.”
I stare at her dully. Because of her, I was locked in my room. She’s the last person I want to see right now.
She drums her fingers on the table and looks around. Things are quickly going from tense to awkward. I know I should apologize for attacking her, but I can’t get the words to roll off my tongue.
“Look, I’ve decided to forgive you for the whole”—she wraps her hands around her neck and rolls her eyes into the back of her head—“choking thing.”
“I didn’t mean—”
She holds her hand up. “Please. I know you did. And I know I deserved it. Plus, I like you so let’s put it in the past, all right?” Reagan holds out a hand.
A truce with Reagan would feel like a truce with Satan. Maybe everything that’s happened the past few days has worn me down, though, because I reach out and shake her hand.
“Great.” She leans forward and in her best reporter voice says, “Now don’t you feel better?”
“Why are you really talking to me? It can’t be to make up.”
“I kind of like you, Victoria. You’re a calla lily in the midst of black roses. Obviously, you have your issues, but you don’t belong here. Plus, we both have that persona non grata vibe going on here. We can bond over our craziness. You tried to kill me, and if that doesn’t break up a friendship then I don’t know what the hell will.”
This may be one of the most honest—if not the kindest—things that Reagan will ever say to me. For a second, I just stare at her.
Before I can reply a nurse walks by and gives us a double take. “Hey,” she says slowly. “Should you two be around each other?”
“Relax. We’re best friends now,” Reagan replies with a sweet smile. “In fact I just got done brushing Victoria’s hair and talking about the latest episode of Scandal.”
The nurse rolls her eyes and keeps on walking.
Reagan looks over my shoulder and stands up.