Bent But Not Broken (16 page)

'That's a lot to take in all at once,' he said. 'Do you want to ask any questions?' he invited.

I hoped no-one did. I could smell that dinner had arrived. I was starving because I had been too upset to eat any lunch.

'Yeah, I have a question,' I asked cheekily. 'Can we eat now?'

The session broke up with everyone giggling. As it should be, I thought.

Love,

Abigail

 

 

CASE FILE #2794 ABIGAIL LEE MANUS D.O.B. 02/04/1998

ENTRY 41: 4/06/2014

I thought that Abigail had done enough hard work, and tried to make this session a bit lighter for her.

I opened our conversation with, 'You started a while ago to tell me about getting ready for the wedding. How about you tell me a bit more about that?'

'Yeah, it was really good!' Abigail responded with enthusiasm.

'You spoke of dress shopping. It sounded exhausting!' I said, leading her in.

'It was! But it was great too!' she said with a smile. 'It took lots of trips out before Mum found just the right outfit.'

'What did she end up choosing?'

'It was a beautiful dress! It was cream and covered in fine lace,' Abigail said. 'And in each shop when we were looking for Mum's dress, Crystal and I got to try on lots of dresses too. It was so much fun! We had a ball!'

'Did you have matching outfits?' I asked.

Huge teenage eye roll.

'Of course not! I was thirteen and Crystal was only eleven. I needed a more grown-up dress than her!' was the empathic reply.

'What was your dress like?'

'Oh, it was lovely! It was a three-quarter length blue satin gown with straps that crossed at the back. That made getting the right bra a bit tricky, but Mum didn't mind,' she added. 'Crystal had a pink dress, of course. It was lovely too. It had puffy sleeves and frills around the bottom. She looked like a princess!'

'I don't like shopping, but clearly you do. Did you get shoes and other things to go with your outfits?' I asked.

'Yeah, talk about the Cinderella thing! We got new shoes to match our dresses. Mum and I got a handbag each, but Crystal didn't because she would just have lost it anyway,' Abigail happily responded.

She was smiling, clearly enjoying these memories.

'Being a man, I wouldn't know. Did you get your hair and make-up done as well?' I asked.

Abigail looked at me like I was from another planet. Which is where most men are, when it comes to weddings.

'It took forever at the salon,' she said gaily. 'Mum wore her hair up so there was lots of pins and spray to keep the flowers just right. I had my hair up too, in curls and ribbons. I looked so grown up by the time they had finished with the make-up! Crystal had little pink flowers in her short hair. Of course, she did not get make-up. She was too young.'

'Where did the wedding take place?' I asked.

'In the park, near the lake. They had a beautiful archway made of white flowers for us to walk through, down to where…' she stalled.

'Where what?' I asked.

'You know. Where he was waiting for us,' she replied.

Rather than push for the use of George's name, I asked more about the events.

'What happened then?' I prompted.

'There was a red path all the way down to the little tent where they were going to be married,' she said. 'It was lovely too. It was all decorated with white flowers, just like Mum had in her hair,' she said.

'Were you nervous?' I asked.

'Absolutely! We had to walk down the red path, one on each side of Mum. I was terrified that I'd trip in my high heels!'

'But you didn't?'

'No, we made it just fine. But I couldn't look at all the people, I was concentrating so hard on not falling over!' she laughed.

'What happened then?' I asked.

'Oh, that was the boring bit. There were so many photos I thought my face would crack from having to keep smiling for so long,' she said.

'And the reception? Where was that?'

'In the building next to the lake,' she said.

I must have looked a bit puzzled.

'I know it sounds strange, but it wasn't like where you have a BBQ,' she explained. 'It was a proper building with a verandah on three sides, and wide steps up to the main entrance,' she added.

'How was it decorated?' I asked. Again the animation in Abigail was delightful to see.

'They had pots of white flowers on the steps up into the main room,' she said. 'And inside it was beautiful! Every table had white flowers and shining glasses of all different shapes and proper silver knives and forks! I hadn't seen it set up until then. It blew me away!'

'Did you get to sit at the front table?'

'Duh! Of course! We were the bridesmaids! Our table was raised and facing the others across the dance floor. Like it was straight out of Robin Hood or something!' she practically sang.

'It sounds like it was a wonderful experience for you, Abigail,' again I prompted.

'Yeah, it was. If I'd known what was going to happen later, I wouldn't have enjoyed it so much!' came her angry reply.

'You are doing so well, Abigail. I am proud of you,' I said.

'You shouldn't be!' she spat. 'I'm a worthless slut!'

'I don't see you that way at all,' I said kindly. 'And hopefully soon, you won't either,' I added.

'You can't change what I am!' she shouted.

With that, she slammed herself into the back of the chair, glaring at me. She had returned to her defensive posture of her arms across her chest, hugging a cushion to herself. Why does she continue to believe that she is worthless? Why is she so convinced that it was her fault? How did George do this to her? I know I am missing a vital piece of the Abigail jigsaw.

Dr. Harry Nightingale

Dear Crystal,

We were hanging out in the lounge because it was nearly lunchtime. This morning's entertainment was music. Michael had brought in a whole lot of drums. All different sorts. He had them in the middle of the music room when we were escorted in.

'Good morning, ladies!' he said, as always. He makes it feel like we're doing him a favour by just showing up! I like that. We were all clustered together when he said, 'Today is going to be noisy! Hope you're up for it!'

We were all looking at the drums. There were two that you wear – like the little drummer boy – as well as a snare and some floor toms of different sizes. There was a huge base drum set up with a kicker. There was also a bunch of bongo drums. Some of these were little single ones, but he had double ones and some tall, single ones. It was like a drum shop!

'Go ahead,' he encouraged. 'Pick one that you like.' He was so enthusiastic it was catching. We moved quickly to get a drum each. I chose a little bongo. You know I've got no rhythm. I figured I could hide in the crowd with a little one.

Once we were all settled he said we were going to do some African drumming.

'Good luck with that!' I thought. But I didn't say it because the mood was excited and positive. I looked around the circle. Always a circle! I wonder what would happen if we sat in a square, or a line. End of the world, probably.

'Here's how it works,' he started to explain. 'I will do a simple beat, and then we will try to do it together.'

After the first couple we had the idea, and could follow pretty well. Then he started upping the stakes. The beats got longer, and faster. It was a good thing he was leading, because as usual I was hopeless. He did a really fast one, and even with him leading it was terrible! It was so bad we all just banged away for the hell of it. We were making the most awful racket! Finally he stopped, and we all started laughing.

Michael waited until the laughing quietened. He was beaming at us like Father Christmas! I was wondering why he looked so happy when we had actually failed. We couldn't do the last one.

'That's what is called getting lost making music!' he announced, still grinning. 'I was watching you. You were having fun!

We were grinning back at him. It's then that I realised what he had said was true. While I was concentrating so hard on trying to follow the beat, everything else had gone out of my head. I had even forgotten where I was! This blew me away. I'd heard the term "Getting lost in the music" but it had never happened to me before today.

'Do you want to do some more?' he asked. "Hell, yes!" covered the response from all of us. We spent the rest of the session banging and thumping and cutting sick being noisy. It was so much fun! I felt like a little kid banging on saucepans. Shit, it was great! Kids have got it made!

Love,

Abigail

 

CASE FILE #2794 ABIGAIL LEE MANUS D.O.B. 02/04/1998

ENTRY 42: 5/06/2014

I know that Abigail is hiding more than the fact that she was sexually abused by her step-father. This she admits. What I do not know is the secret she still guards so closely. It has to be entangled within this abuse. I must help Abigail to undo this knot of pain. Until she does, her wounds will not heal.

It seemed that Abigail knew that we were heading towards this even more painful disclosure. She spent as long as she possibly could before she had selected her book and settled into her chair. Even then, she would not look at me.

I opened the session with: 'What happened after the wedding?'

'They went away for two weeks to New Zealand,' she replied.

'Who looked after you and Crystal during this time?' I asked.

'We stayed with our cousins,' was her simple reply.

'Was that okay?' I asked.

The teenage shoulder roll. So expressive!

'It was good, except that we had to share rooms again. I missed my room,' she said. 'And there was no privacy. Just like here!'

Again Abigail was trying to use anger to derail the interaction.

'And when your Mum and George returned from their honeymoon?' I prompted.

'I don't want to talk about that!' Abigail shouted.

'I know. You are entering very dangerous waters now, Abigail,' I said quietly. 'But I am with you.'

'No one can help me!' she screamed. 'Not then and not now!'

'Remember what I told you about your brain being capable of forming new neural pathways?' I asked.

'Yeah. I'm not stupid!' she spat.

'You are most certainly not stupid. I have never thought that about you, Abigail,' I replied quietly. 'But you are afraid. I want you to know that there is nothing you can say that will make me think less of you.'

'Bullshit!' was her angry reply.

With that, Abigail spent the rest of the session glaring at me. She knew our time was nearly up. She just waited it out. We walked back to the ward in silence. Whatever George did to her, it damaged her on such a deep level that Abigail is convinced that no-one can reach down and bring her back.

Dr. Harry Nightingale

 

 

 

Dear Crystal,

Where to sit for meals has been sorted out. Doctor Harry gave the order that Mad Rachel has to sit opposite the nurses' station. To keep an eye on her, I suppose. Jenny sits between me and Suzy all the time now. And she keeps her doll's face towards her chest. I guess she doesn't want to risk another attack from Mad Rachel. I'm with her on that one. I keep an eye on her, trying to stay one jump ahead. I can't trust the staff to be quick enough to stop her from attacking us.

Doctor Harry must be finally catching up. In group this afternoon I noticed that he sat next to Mad Rachel again. This was unusual. He has this trick. He usually moves his position around the circle.

He waited until we were all settled, and then said that Kayla had something to tell us. We all looked expectantly at Kayla. She's one of the mousy ones. She's joined in a general ruckus – like when Doctor Harry talked about getting our kitten. But I can't remember her ever actually being the focus of attention in the group session. She looked very uncomfortable.

'I am leaving this afternoon,' she said, looking at her hands.

I was stunned! Why don't they give us a bit of warning when someone is leaving? Why don't they let us say goodbye properly? I was thinking about this, when an awful thought popped into my head. How can Doctor Harry be sure that Kayla is fixed? It wasn't all that long ago that she was poisoned. What if she went home and did it again? I know she's not trying to kill herself. But how can they be sure that she won't drink or eat something by mistake? I was suddenly very frightened for her. I knew I would never see her again. What worried me was the thought that this could be the last time I saw her alive.

Doctor Harry interrupted these horrible thoughts. 'Would you like to explain where you are going to live, Kayla?' he prompted gently. She had her hands over her mouth, so her answer was a bit muffled.

'I want you to tell them,' she said quietly.

'Okay,' he replied, as his did his sweep around the circle. I think he does this to make sure we are all paying attention. He must have been satisfied, because he went on, 'Kayla has agreed to live in a residential care unit.'

I was glancing across to see if Suzy knew what on he was on about, when I saw Jenny nearly leap out of her chair in fright.

'That's not fair!' Mad Rachel shouted. 'Kayla isn't bad! She doesn't deserve to be in with really terrible kids!' she shouted even louder.

I was shocked. Not at the shouting. There's plenty of that around here. Why was Mad Rachel sticking up for Kayla? She hardly knows Kayla. I think what really had me confused was that Mad Rachel was yelling about someone else. Up 'till now she'd only yelled about herself.

Doctor Harry swiveled around so that he was almost facing Mad Rachel. 'I think you are confused, Rachel,' he said quietly.

'Like hell I am!' she shouted right in his face. 'I've been in those places. There are some seriously fucked up kids in those houses!' she continued to shout. She glared at him like she wanted to kill him. Who knows? Maybe she does? She is crazy and violent. I wouldn't trust her at all. Not ever.

Do you remember that big black dog we had to walk past every day when we went to our new primary school? How he'd snarl and slobber and hurl himself at the fence? We knew he'd rip us to bits if he got the chance. That's how I feel about Mad Rachel.