Bent But Not Broken (6 page)

 

 

 

Dear Crystal,

My sessions with Doctor Hobbit are always in the library. He seems content that I talk about our lives before George. BG, I call it. Like "Before Google." I upped the stakes today. I asked for a laptop with internet access. I figured I'd give it a go. I've got him to put a table and chair in my room, so that I can draw and write by myself. They're not even bolted to the floor! I guess he's trying to show that he trusts me not to chuck stuff around. He doesn't realise that I'll do anything not to get the needle again. Once was quite enough, thank you!

When I made my (okay, optimistic and probably stupid) request he sat back in his chair and pretended to give it some thought. He didn't fool me. He gets paid to mess with heads, so he's good at faking sincerity. Then the bargaining began. He would consider it if I would talk to him about what got me here. The heavy stuff. No chance! I guess we both bluffed, and lost.

Love,

Abigail

 

 

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

ENTRY 23: 09/05/2014

Unfortunately I was right about Abigail shutting down in our sessions. She was not interested in talking about the kitten, or her animals. Not even about her early life.

'I want a laptop!' she demanded.

'Why?' I asked.

'It's bloody obvious, you fool!' she replied.

'Then it should be easy for you to explain why you want one,' I said calmly.

'So I can talk with my friends! Even you must have heard about Facebook!' was her angry reply.

'Of course I know Facebook,' I said. 'But it is not a good idea,' I said.

'Why? Why can't I talk with my friends?'

'It's not about being able to talk with your friends,' I replied. 'It's about you coming to terms with what has put you here.'

'I need to talk to someone who's sane!' she shouted angrily.

'Does that mean that you think everyone here is insane?' I asked.

'Well, duh! It's a nut house and you are the head shrink! Of course everyone here is insane!'

'Okay, now we're getting somewhere, Abigail,' I replied.

Her anger was radiating off her in waves. She was making a demand to which she knew very well I could not accede. It was an excuse to avoid acknowledging her pain. A classic attempt at deflection.

'I will not allow you computer access,' I said. 'What we really need to be talking about is why you are here,' I said.

'Not a chance!' was her angry reply.

The rest of the session I watched her select not one, but two books from the shelves. This was a challenge that I was happy to let her win.

Dr. Harry Nightingale

 

 

 

Dear Crystal,

I haven't told you about the music session we have every week. It's really good. It's run by a bloke called Michael, who's pretty cool despite being a bit old. He must be at least thirty. He plays a wicked electric guitar and cuts sick rocking the place. I know all the girls love it because we always have a great time and no-one loses their shit in the music session.

He gets out lots of drums and stuff, and lets us make as much noise as we want. I don't have a musical bone in my body. Even in primary school all I ever got was the triangle. I have all the rhythm of a white chick!

Today he got us to listen to some old-school rock. I think it was Meat Loaf. Then he said for us to pick any instrument we wanted and try to play along with the song. Of course I was useless, but it was fun. The real surprise was Jenny. When she played the acoustic guitar she could follow the music and made it sound good. Michael made a fuss of her, and she blushed. I could tell she was chuffed.

It's got me thinking. Jenny had to put down her doll to play the guitar. Why don't they try a swap? Even if it works only for a little while, it would be a start for her.

Michael said anyone can learn to make music. That it's in everyone, but some people are too scared to let it out. I reckon that's bullshit. I just don't have any clue about how to make music. But I do love listening to it. That's one of the many things that I miss from my real life. Sorry, Crystal. Feeling a bit flat. Talk later.

Love,

Abigail

 

 

 

Dear Crystal,

Today I really talked with Miss Anorexic. There was nothing else to do. The weekends are pretty slow. Some of the girls have family visit them during the weekends. I don't know where they go for this, but it sure as hell isn't in the ward. Maybe if they actually came in here they would get their daughters out! I can tell who has a visit because the nurses take extra care making the girl presentable before she is escorted out by an orderly. Mostly they come back okay. Sometimes they are hysterical, and get the needle.

Like I said, there's not much to do on weekends. There aren't as many orderlies so our time outside can be quite short. Which is a bummer. There's no TV or radio – just the god-awful music they pump through the ward. I've asked Doctor Hobbit to turn if off in my room, which he did. That, at least, was something.

We do have the option of watching DVDs on the flat screen that is bolted high on the wall. But the nurses control it. We don't have a say in what they put on. In group we've asked Doctor Hobbit if we can choose the movies, but all he ever says is we can talk about it. Nothing seems to change around here. Like they're all stuck in their own little ruts and don't see anything wrong with that.

The only other entertainment on the weekends is dumbass board games. I whop most of the girls at Boggle and Scrabble, but have given up on Monopoly. It always ends the same way. Kayla can't help herself. She starts munching on the cards and stuff. Someone goes apeshit. There's no fun in in watching it all go down, over and over.

We aren't allowed to go to each other's rooms. We have to talk in the lounge. I was playing chess with Suzy. She's really smart and interesting. So I took the chance and asked her why she was anorexic. She said it began when she was fourteen.

Suzy said that because she loved learning, she was really lonely at school. She told me that she never had friends, even at primary school. So she was used to roaming the yard on her own. She said she would try to find a quiet spot to read during lunchtimes, but the kids would hunt her down and give her shit. She took to hanging around the teachers doing yard duty for protection. That gave the kids even more ammo. They dumped on her for being a teacher's pet. It got so bad that she dreaded going to school – especially lunchtimes and in the locker bays.

She said her only happy time was when she played netball. But Crystal, we both know how bitchy that can be. Apparently some of her team started calling her fat. That she would be a better goal attack if she lost some weight. She took it to heart. Stupid, but that's how it started for her. She began to see herself as fat. She thought that if she could lose some weight the girls in the team would like her better. Didn't happen.

Suzy said that she realised that the only thing good in her life was her school work. She set about studying really hard, doing more and more. Soon she was way ahead of the class, and the teachers were giving her special work. Can you imagine how well that went down? She copped even more. She got totally miserable. She refused to eat. Breakfast was not a big problem. Her dad left early, so there was only her mum to fool. She'd eat her breakfast, and then go to her room supposedly to get ready for school, but really to throw up. They had no clue because they are rich and she had her own ensuite. Lunch she simply dumped. But her parents were starting to get suspicious. They forced her to stay at the table for tea until her plate was empty. She'd say she was going back to her room to study, but always threw up.

I asked her how could she do that? Throwing up is horrible. She said you can do anything if you set your mind to it. And she did! The way she explained it to me was that there was nothing right in her life. That there was nothing she could do about the bullying at school. Even playing netball was ruined for her. At least she could control what went into her body.

It all went shitshaped when she collapsed at school. She said she doesn't remember much about how it all happened. She said Doctor Hobbit told her that she was hospitalised for a week, and then sent to the loony bin. Like me, I guess.

I asked her if she thinks she's getting any better by being in here. She said she didn't know for sure. She thought that maybe she was because she doesn't see throwing up as a way to fix her life. And she's got her periods back. Well, that's no bonus!

I told her I think she's smart and worth knowing. She burst into tears. That made me feel rotten. Then she hugged me! Definitely against the rules! The orderlies came rushing to separate us. But we know. We have found a friend in here, and we're both better for it. So screw them!

Love,

Abigail

 

 

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

ENTRY 24: 12/05/2014

The staff reported that Abigail had a long and intense discussion with Suzy during the weekend. I was pleased to hear this, even though they had to be separated when they hugged each other. It reinforces my belief that Abigail has been watching and evaluating both the program and the other patients.

She has the ability to empathise with their experiences. What I am unsure of is whether she understands how the program is helping these damaged young women back to a place where they can function positively and effectively. If she cannot recognise this for them, how will she realise that she too can be helped to come to terms with her trauma?

She steadfastly refused to speak to me today in our individual session. I have to give her points for determination!

Dr. Harry Nightingale

 

 

 

Dear Crystal,

Doctor Hobbit seems content that I talk about our lives BG, so I keep feeding him that stuff. I told him how we used to go into the bush with our mates and make BMX jumps. They were good times, weren't they? How the boys would bring spades and we'd all set to making the runs harder and harder. The boys always got more air than we did – but we were way better than most girls on their bikes!

I used to wish that we were rich and lived in the 'burbs. Listening to the girls in here I reckon we had it pretty good. Mum trusted us to go into bush and muck about without getting into trouble. Remember the time we built the tree house in the old cyprus tree? How we pretended we were wild things growing up like pirates? Not answering to any grown-ups for anything? Except for eating the lunches that Mum would make for us, with plenty of cookies and cakes to share with the others, that is!

I told him about how we used to get into squads and crawl through the shrubs at the golf course, scavenging balls. About how we'd come home with our pockets bulging, and tried to hide them from Mum because we thought she'd go ballistic. (Ha! That's funny. Balls. Ballistic. Get it? I'm hilarious!) But how she surprised us. She went down to the op-shop and got us a golf club each so we could thump them around on the school oval. I loved doing that with you.

Being forced to talk to Doctor Hobbit is making me remember good stuff about when we were kids. Before George. It's also making me think about Mum in a different way. She made a mistake with George. A huge one. But she flat out tried her best to give us a good life. Before George.

I'm starting to get a bit worried, too. When I walk to the library with Doctor Hobbit we don't speak. That's good – because I am busy racking my brain about what to tell him. I'm afraid I'll run out of stuff BG. Can you help me with this? I know you are younger, but maybe your memories are fresher than mine.

Love,

Abigail

 

 

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

ENTRY 25: 13/05/2014

Abigail has started talking again in our individual sessions. Though she is keeping what she discusses to the "safe" times of her early life. She describes a wonderful childhood, full of adventure and fun. Her single mother trusted Abigail to look after her little sister Crystal until she got home after work. This was a responsibility that Abigail took seriously. She clearly is devoted to her sister. She also speaks very positively about her mother during this period of her life.

Abigail continues to avoid talking about the experiences that have culminated in her suicide attempt on her sixteenth birthday. I will have to remain patient, and continue to let Abigail believe that she is in control of our sessions.

Eventually she has to run out of stories and will have to move forward to the more dangerous territory of when it all started to go so wrong for her. For the time being I am content to let her keep speaking of these early times.

Dr. Harry Nightingale

 

 

 

Dear Crystal,

I spoke up in group today. Except for talking about the kitten (which still hasn't happened yet) I haven't said a word. When Doctor Hobbit swept over me with his eyes, I put my hand up. Don't know why I did that. To give myself time, I suppose.

You know I'm a bit of a bit of a shit stirrer. I take things too far. I just have to test the boundaries. You'd think I would have learnt my lesson, being in here and all. But no. I have always seen myself as a strong chick who sticks up for weaker ones.

So off I went.

'You should stop the bloody awful piped music in the ward. It might seem okay to old people, but it's driving us mad!'

Doctor Hobbit couldn't get the surprised look off his face. It was the first time I had said anything in the group sessions.

I followed up with, 'We all enjoy the music sessions because it's fun making noise, even if it's not very musical. You should let us have some instruments to muck about with. Especially for Jenny, who really can play music,' I said.

There was a lot of support for this. I know because I could hear the other girls agreeing with me. Even the mousy ones. Doctor Hobbit locked eyes with me. I didn't flinch. We had a full-on staring match. Then he looked down and started writing notes, like he always does. I think he was using that to give himself time to work out an answer. We all waited. It was deathly silent. When he looked up, he asked if we all felt the same about the music. There was a general ruckus of assent.