by Dani René
“How wonderful!” Ms. Clover says, clapping her hands together as she looks over at me. “Well, we’re all glad to have her back with us.”
“I’m not,” Liz snarks, rolling her eyes as she drops back onto her stool, and I just glare at her as Dr. Sterling pretends he didn’t hear anything.
“Today I have a special request for your painting time,” Dr. Sterling begins, looking at each of us as his gaze scans the room. “We all have things that bother us. Memories or images or ideas that our minds just don’t want to let go of, and these things can slow down our ability to heal. That is what I want you to paint, or draw, or sculpt — whatever you need to do. The goal of this class is for you to get that thing out of your mind that is holding you back, and then you’ll bring that art to your next session with your doctor. I’ve already updated each of your doctors that they should expect this, so dig deep. Find the thing that is keeping you from moving forward on the path to healing and pull it out. Put it into your art. Trap it there. Then, you and your doctor will discuss it, and hopefully you will all leave these things in your art so that you can be stronger, and healthier, in the days to come.”
“What a lovely idea!” Ms. Clover cheers, clapping quickly before gesturing around the room. “We have quite a few options, dears. Think over what Dr. Sterling has asked you to do and choose the right medium for how you can get this out of you.”
“We all know that Nina is going to need matches to do that.” Liz doesn’t even try to whisper, it’s loud enough for the whole room to hear, and all I can do is stare at her, feeling the heat rising in my face as several of the patients laugh along with her.
I hate her. I hate her so much, but I won’t do anything to jeopardize my new privileges. I still have the chance to go outside this week, and I’m not going to let Liz take that away from me no matter how mean she is. Unfortunately, Mr. Cat is prowling behind her, and I can’t help but watch as he leaps onto the cabinet of supplies beside her. He’s angry at me, and I know that’s not good. Mr. Cat acts out when he feels like that, and more than anything I want him to just go away. Go find someone else who needs a friend, hallucination, and bother them.
Because I’m getting better. I am, I am, I am.
“That’s enough, Liz,” Dr. Sterling says, chastising her in front of everyone before he walks to the door with Ms. Clover. They speak quietly for a moment, and then he turns back to the room with a smile. “I wish you all good luck on your projects! I can’t wait to see what you create. Have a good day, ladies.”
With that, he leaves, and Ms. Clover walks over to me. “Don’t let Liz bother you, dear. She’s just defensive because, if I remember correctly, you have quite a talent with paints. Don’t you?”
“Maybe.” I shrug. Right now I don’t feel like I have a talent with anything. If I did have a talent, I’d use it to make Mr. Cat go away forever. Even if it meant I was lonely. Even if it meant I didn’t have any friends… I think my life would be better. I have to believe that.
“Well, do you know what you want to paint?” she asks, looking at me with an encouraging smile, and I realize I already know the answer.
Mr. Cat.
If there’s anything holding me back in my past or my present, it’s Mr. Cat.
“I think I do, Ms. Clover,” I reply, and she tilts her head toward one of the supply cabinets.
“Then I think we should get you setup! Come with me and we’ll gather the paints together.”
An hour later, I’m actually feeling… good.
Confident.
I haven’t touched paint in so long that I forgot how good it feels to mix the colors together to get just the right shade. Choosing the right brush to make the perfect line or blend the paint on the canvas so that the image in my head slowly appears. It's like my hands remember how to move, how to hold the brush, how much pressure to use — even if my mind doesn't. For a while just the smell of the paint made me remember painting at home, and I found myself smiling as I remembered how happy my mom would be when she saw what I'd made. Even if it was just a painting of the old swing set at the park down the street... in that moment she was proud of me.
The colors here aren’t as diverse as the ones Mom used to buy me. There’s no cadmium yellow or phthalo blue. Instead they’re just generic tubes of ‘blue’ or ‘yellow’ but the longer I work on the painting, the less it matters. I’d always loved phthalo blue, the bold look of it, but I think I’ve almost mimicked it with what’s available.
“What the fuck is that?” The voice beside me pulls me out of the zone I’m in. It’s Liz, trailed by the new girl and a couple of other patients who I’ve never really talked to — probably because Liz told them I’m dangerous. Evil. Crazy.
As if everyone here isn’t a little bit crazy.
I try to ignore her, but my hand shakes when I lift the paint brush again and I know if I try to touch the canvas that I’ll ruin what I’ve worked so hard on. It was a good decision because a second later Liz shoves my shoulder.
“Hey! I asked you what the fuck you’re painting!” She laughs, a cruel sound, and the girls with her join in. It feels like school used to feel. The popular kids judging me, alienating me, but we’re all outcasts here. The Serenity Institute isn’t the place-to-be for anyone.
But then I hear the whispers.
The walls swell with them, throbbing in time with the hissed words that I can’t quite catch. I only hear bits and pieces. Crazy. Idiot. Loser. Stupid. I clamp my hands over my ears to shut them all out. Liz, her friends, and the walls.
“Dr. Sterling told you to paint something that’s holding you back, and you paint a weird blue… thing?” Liz laughs again, loudly, like she’s performing for an audience and wants her cackle to be heard at the back.
“Stop it,” I mumble, clenching my eyes tight as I try to block them out.
“Seriously, is this what you see when you’re all crazy and hallucinating? A blue striped mutt?”
“It’s a cat!” I shout, turning to glare at her, and she just grins.
“Oh, really?” She gestures at my painting, sneering, blatant glee in her eyes. “It doesn’t look like a cat. It looks like shit. Is that what’s keeping you from getting better? A big, blue, striped pile of shit?”
“His name is Mr. Cat!” I snap, and then I see him walking along the table behind the gathered group of women. Clenching my teeth tight, I turn away and cover my ears again, screaming with my mouth closed because I don’t want him to come closer.
I want him to go away. I need him to go away.
“Go away, go away, go away!” I shout, and I can hear Liz’s laughter even with my hands pressed hard over my ears.
“See what I mean? Nina shouldn’t be allowed in here. She shouldn’t even be allowed in the Rec Room! She’s dangerous.”
“I’m not dangerous!” I scream, but I can feel the tears burning my eyes as I spin around to face her. They’re all laughing at me. Laughing at my painting of Mr. Cat… but that’s how he looks. He’s big, with a broad mouth full of razor-sharp teeth, and his amber colored eyes are larger than normal. The cadmium yellow would have added just the right brightness to them, the sinister intellect that makes him so dangerous.
He is the dangerous one. Not me.
Liz is still laughing, rolling her eyes as she looks at the others with her, and I search the room for Ms. Clover, hoping that she’ll come to defend me. To make them go sit back down. But it seems she stepped out at some point while I was painting.
We’re alone.
And Mr. Cat is growling at Liz’s back.
“Please stop, Liz. Please,” I beg, and she just laughs harder.
“Why? Are you afraid everyone is going to find out that you tried to burn down your house with your mom inside?” Liz scoffs, looking back over her shoulder at the others, and I know she’s told them all that lie.
“I didn’t do that,” I mumble, and she rolls her eyes.
“You can’t lie here, Nina. Everyone knows why yo
u’re in the Institute.” Liz nudges the new girl with her elbow. “She tried to kill her mom by burning down the house.”
“I DID NOT!” I shout, fuming, hands in fists at my sides with a paint brush gripped too tightly in one.
“Bullshit, Nina. Everyone knows the story. Pretending you’re not violent and totally crazy isn’t going to change anything. You tried to kill your mom and—”
“IT WASN’T ME!” I scream, tears burning my eyes as I point at the canvas where Mr. Cat’s image is painted to the best of my ability. It’s not perfect, slightly blurry, and one of his legs is too long… but it’s him. “He did it.”
“Who?” Liz asks, not even trying to hide her laughter.
“Mr. Cat!”
More laughter. They’re laughing at me. The walls are laughing at me, and it’s all so fucking loud. My ears hurt from the sheer rush of sound coming at me from all directions.
“Stop, stop, STOP!” I scream, dropping the paint brush to the floor so I can get a better seal against my ears, but it doesn’t stop. None of it stops. The brush of fur against my side is both welcome and terrifying. I don’t want to feel so alone, so singled-out by Liz’s cruelty… but I also don’t want to betray Dr. Nickelsen by acknowledging Mr. Cat. The whole point of painting him today was so that I could lock him away. Put him in the painting so that I could be free of him. Free to get better, to be sane… to go home.
“See what happens when you shove me away, Nina?” Mr. Cat is growling, his words spoken with an undercurrent of rumbling bass that I can feel as he leans against my leg. “Your doctor isn’t here to protect you. Tom isn’t rescuing you. No, it’s just me. It’s always been me.”
I shake my head violently, whining as I fist my hair, trying to block it all out.
“What did I tell you? She’s fucking crazy. This is why she’s not supposed to be around the rest of us,” Liz says, the sneering tone in her voice making me feel small, disgusting.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Nina. This bitch is a liar,” Mr. Cat responds, and I hate how comforting it is.
I want to run away, to go back to my room where their voices can’t follow me. Mr. Cat would be there, and the walls might keep whispering, but Liz and the others wouldn’t so it would still be an improvement.
“No. We’re going to handle this right now,” Mr. Cat says, and I open my eyes to look at him. His claws are out, teeth bared, fur rising along his spine as he prepares to pounce on Liz.
“STOP!” I shout, because I don’t want him to hurt her. I don’t like her, and she is mean, but I don’t want Mr. Cat to kill her. He thinks it’s protecting me, but it’s not. It will only make things worse. Like when he tried to burn the walls when they kept telling me I was evil. Neither of us had wanted to hurt my mom, we’d just wanted the walls to stop shouting at me. Mr. Cat had said the fire would shut them up, make it so they’d never be mean again, and he’d found the matches and the lighter fluid. I hadn’t done anything. I just hadn’t tried to stop him, because I was so desperate for them to be quiet. All I’d wanted was to sleep, to rest without the walls saying hateful things, and then Mr. Cat had started the fire.
It wasn’t my fault. It was him.
It had always been Mr. Cat.
But after that… my mom said she couldn’t have me at home anymore. That it wasn’t safe. No matter how many times I told her that it wasn’t me, that Mr. Cat had started the fire, she’d just cried. Apologized to me as she’d left me here at the Serenity Institute.
Alone.
With Mr. Cat.
“No one else keeps you safe, Nina. I’m always here to protect you,” he hisses as he prowls closer to Liz, and I shake my head violently, moving back from her and Mr. Cat because I don’t want to be involved.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Liz asks, a strange look on her face as I back away, and then I stumble into my easel, knocking everything to the floor. The canvas crashes, splattered by the falling paint and brushes, and then my glass of rinsing water shatters into shining slivers stained by blue-gray water. People scream. Liz is shouting. The sound is too much, it’s too much, and I cover my ears as Mr. Cat growls and attacks.
“NO!” I try to scream over all the noise, but he doesn’t listen. I watch as he knocks her to the ground, the first spray of blood arcing as his claws slice her arm when she tries to defend herself, but Mr. Cat is ruthless when he’s angry. He uses his back claws to cut at her stomach, rending her shirt, soaking it in blood, and I know what’s going to come next.
Not again, not again, not again.
Lunging forward, I try to grab him, to yank his sharp teeth back from her throat, but it’s hard because Mr. Cat is so strong. We’re tangled on the floor in a chaotic whirlwind of limbs and everyone is screaming. Liz, her friends, me, the walls, and even Mr. Cat is yowling as the world becomes too much for me to process.
My ears go fuzzy, buzzing, and everything fades to black.
Blood.
That’s the first thing I see as I come back to reality, and it’s everywhere. On the floor, my hands, and swiped across my skin, mixed with paint.
One of the orderlies picks me up in a bear hug, pinning my arms to my sides as he lifts me off the floor, and I scream because Liz is screaming… and bleeding.
“Someone help her! Keep him away from her!” I kick at whoever is holding me, trying to break away, because I’m the only one that can see him. I’m the only one who can stop Mr. Cat.
“NINA, STOP!” A voice roars, and I recognize it as Tom. He’s here, looking into my eyes, and he looks so worried, so scared, but I don’t want him to be scared. I’d never let Mr. Cat hurt him. He’s nice.
“You have to help her,” I whine, begging Tom with my eyes to believe me. “Please! Get her away from Mr. Cat. I’ll distract him, okay? Just, please, let me go so I can distract him.” I’m pleading, trying to protect her, trying to be good, but Tom just shakes his head at me as he grabs onto my arms.
“Let her go, I’ve got her. Help Liz.” Tom instantly pulls me into his chest as the other orderly lets me go, but I keep fighting.
I need to stop Mr. Cat. I have to make sure he doesn’t kill her.
“Tom, please!” I twist, trying to push him away, but he’s rock solid. So much broad muscle, and he’s so much bigger than me, and when one of his arms goes around my back, holding tight, I can feel my ribs strain under his strength. The blood on my hands is staining his scrubs, and I realize how much my right hand hurts. My palm and fingers are all scratched up from Mr. Cat’s claws, deep cuts that hurt, and I try to show him, but he’s holding me too tightly. “Tom, look! Look at my hand!”
“I NEED A SEDATIVE!” Tom shouts and I start crying.
“No, no, no, no! I’m the only one that can stop him, Tom! He’s going to kill her, please let me help. Don’t make me sleep. Please, please, don’t—”
“Nina, stop. Stop! You have to listen to me!” Tom’s cheek is against the side of my head, his lips close to my ear. “You have to stop fighting. Stop trying to get to her. They’ll never let you out of your room if you don’t get yourself under control.”
“No, you can’t! You can’t lock me in there, please, Tom! I tried to help!” I choke on the sob in my throat as panic thrums through my veins. I just want him to listen. To believe me. “It’s not my fault, it was Mr. Cat! He’s mad because I stopped talking to him. Just like Dr. Nickelsen said! I’m trying to be good, Tom! I’m—”
“It’s okay. It’s okay, Nina. You’re going to go to sleep for a while. It’s going to be okay. Liz is alive. Liz will be fine and so will you.” The sharp prick of a needle has me screaming again, kicking at his legs, but he’s too strong, and I can feel the sedative creeping through my veins. Trying to drag me down into the dark. “It’s okay, Nina. It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you, you’re okay.”
“No, no, no… Tom, please. Mr. Cat is going to hurt her. I’m the only one who can stop him…” My voice is slurring, and it’s so hard to focus, to stay aw
ake, but I have to. I have to fix this.
If they’ll just listen to me, I can fix this.
I can make them understand.
It was Mr. Cat.
Chapter 7
“I understand, Dr. Nickelsen.”
“Good. This is going to help her, okay?”
“I know.”
I can hear Tom and Dr. Nickelsen talking nearby, but it’s hard to open my eyes at first. I’m groggy, and I know it’s the sedative they used on me.
I didn’t need the sedative though.
I didn’t do anything wrong.
“Nina? Are you awake?” Dr. Nickelsen is closer now, and then I feel his hand on my cheek. “Open your eyes for me, Nina.”
It takes some effort, but eventually I’m able to peel them open. My eyes feel sticky though, and I don’t like it. Groaning, I try to wipe them, but my hand stops short. Cuffed. They have me tied down again already.
No, no, no.
Whining, I twist, jerking at the cuffs, but my arms are pulled taut above my head, and I’m not in my bed. I’m not in my room. I’m not in a room I’ve ever seen before.
“Shh, shh, Nina. It’s okay,” Dr. Nickelsen says in that calm tone he always uses when I’m afraid. He’s crouched beside me, smiling a little, but the smile is… sad. It’s not a real smile, it’s just for me. I know he doesn’t want me to panic, but I’m already scared.
“It was Mr. Cat,” I whisper, trying to explain what happened, but the look he gives me shows he doesn’t believe me.
No one ever believes me.
“Tom, can you bring in the painting please?” Dr. Nickelsen stands up beside me, and I realize he’s barefoot and the floor is padded, like a bunch of thin cushions put together. They have me lying on the floor, restrained, naked, and there’s no blood on my bare skin.
They bathed me while I was asleep.
