Dying to Forget (4 page)

“For those who have committed suicide, dear.”

I inhale sharply as Niles pats my hand reassuringly. “Not all cases, of course. Otherwise this place would be completely over-run.”

He waves a hand in front of him casually while he talks but looks around us with a loving expression. I think three things at that moment…
Crap. I really did it, I killed myself
.
How long has Niles been here
?
When will I finally pass out?
I pull my hand from his and grip my legs, lowering my head between my knees. I feel the sudden urge to pass out.

Just breathe, Piper. Breathe.

“Piper, I know this is a lot to take in. I think I should take you to the Admissions Department now, they will take care of you there.” He pats my back and then stands.

I’m sure I won’t be able to walk but when I sit upright my head isn’t fuzzy and my knees don’t knock together like I expect when I take the first few steps away from the bench. I remember I’m barefoot and look down at my pajama shorts with shame.

“Don’t worry about your clothes, Piper.” He stops to chuckle. “Some people arrive in just their birthday suit.”

I stand inside the Admissions Department, amazed at how long the hallway is. The floor feels just as cold inside as it did outside, but now it has more of a milky color to it. I want to reach down and touch it; almost sure my hand will come up wet, but since Niles is standing next to me, urging me to move down the wide hallway, I'm afraid to stop.

There are large blue doors every few feet and I try not to bump into people as they mingle around us. A tall man, so thin that I can see the outline of his ribcage beneath his frayed grey t-shirt almost passes by us in a flurry, a metal clipboard in hand. He raises a dark eyebrow at me and pauses only slightly to greet Niles.

“New arrival, Abbott?” He asks.

“Yes, this is Piper Willow.” He turns toward me and gestures at the rushed man standing awkwardly in the hall. “Piper, this is Mr. Carlson Smith.”

I smile shyly at Carlson, who is still staring at me with his eyebrow raised in a high arc. I know he's not impressed. He nods curtly at me, before glancing down at his clipboard, hugging it tightly to his chest.

“I’m late for the gate. Another newbie.”

“Till later then.” Niles nods a friendly dismissal and Carlson scurries off.

I follow Niles almost to the end of the hallway, until he opens one of the large blue doors, waving me inside. A wide, blue counter runs the length of the room and there are three privacy walls set up, as well as three individual lines to stand in. Besides Niles and the portly woman with the tight bun sitting behind the counter at the middle partition, there is only one other girl in the room. When we enter, she turns and smiles nervously at me, then resumes her quiet discussion with Tight Bun Lady.

“Have a seat, Piper. Mrs. Ferdinand will be with you shortly,” Niles says with a smile.

“Wait, are you leaving?” I start to panic at the thought of being alone with Tight Bun Lady…er, Mrs. Ferdinand.

Crap.

“I will see you later, Piper. But now I have other work to do.”

Double crap.

He winks at me before closing the heavy blue door behind him. I look around the room, trying to control my nerves and rub at my left forearm until I’m sure the skin is raw. When I glance down, my arm isn’t raw…it’s not even red.
Hmm.
I tug my loose fitting tank top over my hips, trying to hide the shortness of my cotton pajama bottoms.

I hear the chair squeak softly on the hard floor in front of me and the young Asian girl with the nervous smile stands and says something to Tight Bun Lady that I can’t make out. When she turns away from the counter, she is hugging a white piece of paper to her chest. She smiles shyly at me as she walks by and I wonder how old she is…at least two years younger than me. Her yellow sundress flows around her knees as she squeezes through the blue door…and then she’s gone. I’m still staring after her when Tight Bun Lady curtly says my name.

“Piper Willow?” She smiles but it doesn’t show in her eyes.

I approach her cautiously and clear my throat before speaking. “Um, yes.”

“Have a seat.”

She nods at the chair in front of me. I sit down in it a little too hard and she scowls slightly. My cheeks flush and I pin my hands in between my knees to keep them from shaking as I process how terrifying Tight Bun Lady must have been before she came to the Station. She was probably a Librarian. The thought makes me giggle and I clamp my teeth down onto my lower lip to keep the sound in.

“Not many New Arrivals laugh at my desk, Miss Willow.”

Oops.

She is staring hard at me, both eyebrows raised first in surprise and then furrowed together with absolute displeasure. Immediately the urge to laugh is gone and I squeeze my knees harder against my hands.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble.

My apology seems to please her and she nods while she shuffles papers around on the counter between us.
Paperwork, even after death…how ironic.
The thought makes me want to laugh again and I clamp down hard on my lip once more, hoping Tight Bun Lady didn’t catch my near slip again.

“Did Mr. Abbott explain why you are here, Miss Willow?” She looks up from her paperwork to stare blankly at me. I nod, afraid to speak.

“Good. I’m sure you have many questions, but first,” she waves one of her hands in front of her face, “…paperwork.”

I really can’t help it and the laugh is out of my mouth before I can stop it. I quickly bring my hands up to cover it but the look of shock on Tight Bun Lady’s face makes the sound in my throat vibrate harder between my lips, spilling out around my fingers. She slowly leans back into her chair and purses her lips together tightly and my mind screams,
Librarian!
I only laugh harder; now I have to lean forward, and grip my stomach while I struggle to catch my breath. When I’m done I’m winded as if I ran up a flight of stairs. Tight Bun Lady looks very, very unhappy with me.

I wipe a tear from my eye and take in several ragged breaths before she speaks.

“Are you quite done now, Miss Willow?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…
paperwork
…here? You don’t find that funny?” I smile at her.

She leans forward onto the counter and steeples her chubby fingers in front of her. Her large bosom rests against the edge of the wide desk and her tight bun pulls at the corners of her eyes, stretching her skin tight. My smile fades as she stares icily at me.

“No, Miss Willow, I do not find paperwork funny. If you’re finished with your outburst, I’d like to continue my job now. Would that be okay with you, or do you need another moment to compose yourself accordingly?”

Oh, it’s like this is it?

Tight Bun Lady has absolutely no more patience with me. I squirm in my chair while she shuffles the papers between us once more and pulls something from the pile, setting it in front of me. It looks like a checklist:

WELCOME TO THE STATION

Please follow the checklist in this guide to help accommodate you with the purpose of the Station. We value each and every person that passes through our gates, whether you choose to move on or become a Volunteer. If you ever need assistance please request a meeting with your Intake Specialist. Remember, everyone deserves a second chance. Please do the following:

- Complete your appropriate paperwork with the Admissions Department

- Attend your Life In Review meeting (First Door of Admissions Department)

- Attend Orientation

- Locate your Intake Specialist for further instructions

What?! What the hell is a
Volunteer
? Move on? To where?!
I look up at Tight Bun Lady and she smiles broadly at my confused expression.

“So…Miss Willow, let’s get you processed, shall we?”

***

I can’t help fidgeting with the edge of my checklist as I sit in the lobby of the Review room. The large, open space reminds me of a church, though instead of pews, sturdy chairs sit neatly next to each other. Half of the chairs are full and at the front of the room, instead of where a church podium would be, there are three doors. A man, dressed in all black, announces a name every fifteen minutes or so after a person exits one of the three doors…and someone else gets up from their white chair to follow him inside the room. I notice very quickly that no one has returned to the lobby with a dry face.

What exactly happens to them in there?

I’ve been focusing on the pale beams of the ceiling when the middle door opens and the young girl ahead of me at Admissions comes out. She is weeping softly and passes by me without looking up. The sadness that envelopes her is a stark contrast to her happy sundress that dances wildly around her legs as she rushes out of the room.

“Piper Willow,” the man in black announces stoically.

I gulp and rise on shaky legs, bumping into the person sitting in front of me as I step out into the center aisle. The walk is long and I feel as if every set of eyes behind me is boring into my back. I tell myself I won’t come out crying.

I won’t.

“This way, please.” He ushers me into the middle room and now I can see it’s empty. Confused, I turn to look at him as he pulls the door shut behind me with only a slight nod.

Wait! What happens in this room?!

I stand completely still. The small square room is all walls with no windows. Only a single white light bulb hangs from the center of the ceiling. I’m waiting for the walls to close in around me, or the floor to drop, when I hear her voice.

Mom.

For what seems like hours, the walls flash vividly around me with every monumental moment in my life…from my birth, to my first birthday; the hospital visit after falling off my bike when I was eight, followed by a trip to the ice cream shop to celebrate my first cast; Dad hugging me to his chest every night for a month after Mom left; my Tumbling performances; Bree smiling; Ryan Burke dumping something into my beer at the party; Bree flying through the windshield because I didn’t tell her to put a seatbelt on…and the last day of my life. I see it play out in slow motion, me tossing back handfuls of Dad’s sleeping pills, me staring out the window, me taking my last shallow breath. The last thing I see is a close-up of Dad as he kneels at my bedside, crying into my hair as I lie motionless in my bed.

The walls are suddenly just walls again and my body is shaking violently. My face is wet with tears that I wasn’t even aware I was shedding, the front of my shirt damp from them. The door opens and the man in black takes my limp hand tugging me from the room.
This is why everyone is crying when they leave here.
I don’t look at anyone as I stumble down the aisle, wanting nothing more but to get the hell out of this place.

Outside, the monotonous white around me suddenly makes me angry and I step back into the slightly darker Admissions Department hallway. I slide down the wall, crumpling onto the floor in a heap of skinny limbs and ash-blonde hair. I stay like this until I hear the soothing and gentle sound of Niles Abbott’s voice above me.

“Piper, come walk with me. You’ll feel better soon.”

I try to nudge his hand off my shoulder but Niles lifts my arm and pulls me to my feet. My face is still buried in my hands and I don’t want to look at him.

“Everyone here has been through this, trust me, you’ll be okay,” he says gently.

I finally glance up at him. “Really…everyone here has…” My voice trails off as he nods.

“Yes, dear. That is what we all have in common here.”

“Oh.”

He nudges me again and I follow him back outside…though I’m still not sure what to call it because there’s no sky and no ground besides the cold milky glass that I am still walking barefoot on.

“Where can I get a pair of shoes?” I ask, embarrassed.

“Shoes?” He stops to look down at me. “Are your feet uncomfortable?” He asks carefully.

“Oh…” I blink up at him, and then down at my feet.
Are they uncomfortable?
“No, I guess not.”

Niles smiles and starts walking again. I realize he’s guiding me toward the smaller building on the end with the children inside, just pass the Consignment Department. I still don’t know what all the buildings are for, but I feel relieved when I hear children laughing. He walks straight up to one of several large bay windows and leans forward. I copy him and peer into the room behind the slightly rainbow-tinted glass.

The smallest child I see looks to be about ten years old and he is chasing an older girl…maybe twelve, around the room while singing a lullaby. They look happy, content; not at all busy and rushed like the adults I’ve seen around the rest of the Station.

Why are there children here? Niles said everyone here has died…from suicide…did I understand him correctly?
Suddenly, I need to know.

“Niles, you said everyone here shares something in common. What
exactly
did you mean?”

I ask the question without taking my gaze off the small boy running around the large room. I hear Niles sigh softly before he speaks.

“Piper, everyone here at the Station has committed suicide. We’ve all chosen to end our lives. And even children as young as Victor there can make that choice.”

“That’s so…
sad
.” My eyes fill with tears again.

“Yes, it is. But it’s different for them. We call children under thirteen
Ones
. They will move on from this place after only a little while. Honestly, I think they are here just briefly enough to give those of us older folks some genuine happiness. Children can do that, after all.”

“What do you mean…you
think
? Don’t you know where they go?” I turn to look at him now, astounded and a little scared.