Between Life & Death

by E K Bennett

  Lame, I know. But facing the person whose life is kind of in your hands is terrifying.

  "It's not your fault," Samantha says, picking up the remote and flipping through channels. It's not fair that she's comforting me at this point. She should be furious with me for getting her hurt. I almost know how Yuki must feel, how she hurt her best friend but didn't have to pay for it.

  "Yes it is," I argue. "I could have stopped you, made you leave the hospital until I was out of here. I was so dumb, and now you're hurt."

  She rolls her eyes and sets the remote down, settling for a cooking show. "Hurt, not dead, Lydia," she points out. "I get that you feel guilty, but honestly, nothing you could have said or done would have made me want to leave. This place is my life now; it's all I have."

  "But she wanted to kill you!" I protest.

  She waves her hand dismissively. "I'm not afraid of death," she states. "And, no offense, I kind of thought you'd made the whole thing up. You know, working in a hospital like this, you get used to people talking shit. I guess I should have believed you."

  Okay, that stings a little. But I take it, because it's what I deserve. "But didn't you see Lotty?" I ask.

  "I suppose so," Samantha replies. "It's weird, though, because the more I thought about her, the harder it was to remember if I'd just imagined it all. I was on my way to report the drawings on the wall so they could clean it all up, but I got distracted."

  "By what?"

  She blushes. "Yuki's hair," she says timidly. I laugh.

  "She did have nice hair," I agree.

  "Oh my god, did she ever!" Samantha exclaims. "It's a hairdresser's dream! Long, soft, and thick. Do you know how much potential hair like that has? It must have taken her years to grow it that long. I was surprised when I asked her about it, because she practically begged me to cut it all off."

  I've never met a person with so much passion. Her story is heartbreaking, giving up your entire life for a new one at a mental hospital. "I'm going to miss you so much, Samantha," I say, smiling.

  She raises her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

  "I'm leaving today," I tell her excitedly. "I finally get to go home!"

  "No way!" Samantha practically screeches.

  "Yep," I say. "My dad's coming to pick me up at 12:30."

  "12:30?" She repeats. "But that's in like ten minutes."

  "Shit," I mutter. "I should go then. I have to get my stuff packed up and meet him in the lobby."

  I get up from the couch and give her an awkward hug, trying not to touch her cast or bump her wrist. "Thank you, Samantha," I say before I walk out the door.

  "For what?" she asks.

  "I guess for being my friend. You were pretty much the only one here who I liked."

  She smiles thoughtfully. "Bye, hon," she says sweetly. Like honey. "By the way, your hair looks great."

  ~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

  I lug my two bags into the lobby and wait by the desk, unable to keep the nervous smile off my face the entire time I'm standing there waiting. My dad pulls up in his relatively new Trailblazer and I put my bags in the trunk. I wait in the passenger's seat while he goes in to sign some papers and play with the radio station, settling on a Nirvana song. A couple of minutes later, my dad gets in the car and we leave the parking lot.

  We leave behind the gray brick building. The twins, Lissi and Natalie. Their army of bitches. The lounge. The powder pink walls covered in drawings of a demon. An emergency ward, nursing a broken angel. We leave it all behind.

  Neither of us talks for the first fifteen minutes, we just listen to the radio as stale awkwardness hangs in the air. The snow has melted, but the sky is the color of milk and the air is bitter cold. The heat in the car is blasted and I concentrate on the yellow markings of the road disappearing underneath the car. It's a habit I have.

  "I'm sorry," my dad finally speaks up.

  I don't know what to say. I'm not prepared to tell him it's okay, it wasn't his fault, we'll get through this. As much as I want things to get better, I'm not that desperate. "How's Miranda's apartment?" I ask, the question comes out sounding much more bitter than I wanted it to. Oh well.

  Dad signs. "It's cramped, cheap, and now filled with her crap that I had to lug upstairs."

  I nod. "You don't sound too happy about that," I say.

  "I'm not," Dad replies. "I didn't want any of this. I wanted you out of that place the minute we dropped you off. But you're mother was scared. Whether it was that she was scared of you or just bitter because of the things you said to her, I don't know. But after the two weeks was up, I was going to come get you. Then Miranda called me with the 'great news' that she and Bryan found this apartment. So I had to help her move in, and your mother booked you for another week."

  He doesn't take his eyes off the road, but I can hear the irritation in his voice. A few minutes pass and I ask, "So where does that leave me?"

  He sighs. "Well, as of now, you have to go home. The court says you still have to live with your mother, same schedule as before. That's where we're going now."

  I want to scream. I want to open the car door and jump out. Anything but go back to Charlotte with my mother.

  Before I can protest, Dad says, "Please try to forgive her. Your mom is having a hard time dealing with this, and it won't do either of you any good to argue."

  I roll my eyes. "She's having a hard time dealing with what?" I snap. "The fact that her daughter is crazy? Or that she cuts herself? She doesn't care what I have to say. She just wants her 'perfect' daughter back. She's too scared to deal with a kid who supposedly sees ghosts so she ships her off to live in some hospital for a month! What mother does that?"

  "Exactly," he says calmly. "This is tearing her apart. She doesn't know what to do with you, so she sends you off. I'm mad at her, too, Lyd. But I honestly think she's sorry for everything."

  "Then why didn't she come pick me up?" I spit.

  "She couldn't handle it."

  "Well then what makes you think she can handle me living with her?" I argue.

  "I don't think she can!" Dad says. "But the court seems to disagree. I'm sorry."

  He stops the car, and I realize we're already in front of my house.

  "I don't want to do this," I whisper. "Please don't make me."

  "You'll be okay, Lyd," he says and unlocks the car. "You're stronger than her. Forgive her for making your life hell. It'll be hard to do, I know, but I'm begging you to try."

  I give him a hug and get my bags out of the trunk, waving at him from the sidewalk as he drives away. I spin on my heel and walk up the driveway slowly, chewing on my lip. "You're stronger than her," I whisper to myself.

  33. She's the Homecoming Queen

  I'm not really sure what to expect when I knock on the door. I've decide that the only way I'll get my mom to believe I'm back to normal is to act like this program was the best thing since sliced bread. I'm surprised to find that I almost feel sorry for her; she honestly thinks that I cut myself. She's batshit crazy, if you ask me, but I don't see a bright future for myself if I keep arguing with her.

  The door swings open and I'm standing face-to-face with my mother for the first time in ages. Her hair is a little bit grayer and there are slightly darker circles under her eyes, but otherwise she looks the same.

  "Hi, sweetie," she says. She smiles and hugs me, then takes my bags.

  "SURPRISE!" Sam and Josh yell from the living room, where there are streamers all over the room and a pizza on the table.

  Sam attacks me with a huge hug and starts babbling on and on about how much she missed me until Josh has to pull her away so I can breathe. My mom sits down with us at the table and we eat pizza while I come up with a huge lie about how much the hospital has helped me, blah, blah, blah. It's all very heartwarming.

  We watch Blaire Witch Project after dinner, all squished on the couch while my mom frantically goes to wash all of my clothes and put them away in my room. I think she knows that if she does
n't, it'll never get done.

  "This movie is so cheesy," I comment.

  "Hey, it's a classic, my friend!" Sam protests.

  "It's not even scary," I say. "Like, cool. There's sticks hanging from the trees. I'm gonna go shit myself now."

  "You're saying that wouldn't creep you out?" Josh asks.

  I shrug. "Well, yeah, it's creepy. But it's not scary."

  Sam throws a pillow at me. "Yes it is, now shut up! I can't hear the movie."

  I laugh and stand up. "Does anyone want popcorn?"

  They nod. "Do you have any more Pepsi?" Josh asks.

  "I can check," I reply, but Josh gets up anyway.

  "Do you guys want me to pause the movie?" Sam asks, smirking.

  I ignore her and keep walking. I take out two bags of popcorn and set the first one in the microwave. "So, the hospital was really that great?" Josh asks while pouring himself some Pepsi. "I didn't get that impression from you last week."

  I shrug. "I figured my mom deserves some closure. She obviously doesn't believe that I was possessed. She just thinks I'm hormonally imbalanced."

  "Well you're more forgiving than I am," he states plainly.

  "Oh, it's not forgiveness, I'm just sick of fighting her. I think that if I tell her what she wants to hear, she'll leave me alone about it. She's not very good at addressing my problems. She freaks out and sends me to hospitals," I joke.

  He laughs and the microwave beeps. I take out the popcorn and put in the second bag.

  "So, um, I was wondering," Josh says. "Would you maybe want to hang out some time?"

  I smile. "Aren't we hanging out now?"

  "Well, yeah," he agrees, laughing. "But maybe, like, just you and me."

  My stomach twists and I smile even wider. "Oh, yeah," I say, trying (and failing) to sound nonchalant. "That'd be fun!"

  "Cool," he says. "How about Friday night? We could go see that new scary movie?"

  I laugh and shake my head. "My life is practically a scary movie right now. How about a comedy?"

  "Sounds good," he agrees and we take the popcorn out to Sam.

  There are butterflies in my stomach for the rest of the night. "Well," Sam says around ten o'clock, "I don't know about you guys, but I have school in the morning. We should probably get going."

  "Well look at you," I joke. "You're so responsible. I guess you're right, though. I'll see you guys at school, then?"

  "You bet!" Sam says on her way out.

  "Bye, Lyd," Josh says and follows behind Sam.

  "Bye," I reply as I close the door.

  As soon as they're gone, I run into my room and dive onto my bed. My mom's still on the floor, reorganizing my drawers, and gives me a weird look.

  "What's that all about?" she asks.

  I smile and gaze up at the ceiling. "Oh, nothing," I say sweetly. "I'm just glad to be home"

  ~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

  The next couple of days go by as a blur. Fortunately, my mom is completely buying the changed-daughter act, and things are slowly shifting back to normal. Well, as normal as things will ever get.

  Sam is freaking out that I have a date with Josh and insists on coming home with me after school on Friday to help me get ready. And by "help me get ready", I get the feeling she means "play extreme makeover". Which is a joy.

  A surprising amount of people at school notice that I'm back, and only a handful of them treat me like a freak. There's actually a bunch of people that I've never really talked to much, yet they suddenly find me extremely interesting. They're a bunch of gossips, and it get annoying when they ask me all these questions. I usually take the sarcastic route and confirm all the mental hospital clichés, which freaks them out. It's actually really entertaining.

  Miranda's baby is due any day now, and she's so huge she won't even get up off the couch other than to pee. She's says the baby's a girl, and her name's going to be Abby. My sister seems genuinely happy in her apartment, and it turns out that one of the main reasons she moved out was because she and mom got in a fight about Lotty.

  I guess Miranda got really mad that mom didn't believe me about Lotty, and then Mom freaked out on her, too. They haven't talked since.

  I haven't heard from Lotty all week, and for a while I wonder if maybe she's gone for good. But part of me knows she's not. Sometimes I think I see glimpses of her in my mirror, hear snippets of her raspy whisper in the back of my mind, and occasionally have dreams of the children she murdered. Sometimes they're from her point of view, sometimes I'm just a bystander.

  Part of me wonders if Lotty will ever leave me alone.

  34. She Gets a Call

  Before I can even put my book bag down Sam orders me to take a shower.

  "Shampoo twice, condition twice," she instructs, going through her book bag that's filled with cosmetics instead of homework. "In that order. I'll go pick out your outfit and plug this in."

  She pulls a flat iron out of her bag and practically sprints to my bedroom, leaving me in the dust to go "shampoo once, condition once, in that order".

  I silently pray that she knows what she's doing and take a quick shower. When I get back to my room Sam's got everything laid out on my dresser as strategically as a surgeon would, from hairspray to eye liner.

  I guess Sam's always been really into makeup and hair, but I didn't know she enjoyed it enough to own seven different shades of eyeliner, hundreds of eyeshadows, and maybe nine shades of lipstick.

  "Fucking makeup guru," I tease and sit on the chair that she brought in from Miranda's room.

  She rolls her eyes and doesn't waste any time, immediately squirting some obscure cream into her hands and working into my short hair. She blow-dries it and combs it out, then straightens it, curling the longer ends in the front.

  "I can't believe she cut your hair so short," Sam comments while running the iron through my hair.

  "I don't know," I say offhandedly. "I kind of like it better."

  "Me too," Sam says. "I'm just not used to it yet. I wish I could pull off short hair."

  "At least you have a choice," I joke. "The stupid doctors didn't even ask me if I wanted half my hair chopped off."

  Sam spins me around and starts to put foundation all over my face, then lots of powder.

  "Is all this really necessary?" I ask while she tilts my head back. "I don't want him to mistake me for Lissi."

  She stifles a giggle. "She was a bitch," Sam admits. I laugh, too. "But don't worry, you'll look nothing like her. I'm not putting much makeup on you anyway. Now close your eyes so I can put on the eyeshadow."

  I sigh. I don't have a problem with makeup in the least, in fact I used to wear it all the time, just like Sam still does. But after a while the routine got tedious. What's the point of waking up an extra half hour early if you're invisible to the world anyway?

  "We're going to the movies, though," I argue. "It's dark the whole time, so why get all fancied up?"

  "Just shut up and let me do this, you killjoy," Sam sighs.

  Five minutes later, Sam finishes and makes me put on the outfit she picked out for me- faded jeans and a gray top with silhouettes of trees on it that I bought on sale one day and wore only once. It's probably been sitting in my closet for at least a year without being worn.

  "You can look in the mirror now," Sam tells me.

  I didn't even realize that she wasn't letting me look until now. I mean, I didn't even get the urge to look in a mirror since I've gotten so used to avoiding them lately. I get a chill up my spine at the thought of looking up and seeing something other than myself; something I’m actually pretty used to.

  I shake my head. "I'll just take your word that I look fine," I say quietly.

  "Come on," she urges, looking sympathetic but a little antsy. "You haven't seen Lotty in a week, I'm sure she won't be popping up in your mirror. Just look."

  I bite my lip and turn to look at myself in the old mirror. To my relief, I look normal.

  Well, not normal, considering "normal" for
me is wearing a sweatshirt with maybe a little eyeliner and having only combed my lifeless hair.

  "You're right," I comment, examining my reflection. "I don't look like Lissi."

  Sam giggles and starts putting her stuff away. It's true, too. I don't look much different, just better. My skin looks smoother and the light pink eyeshadow makes my eyes look bluer. Sam winged out my eyeliner a little and smudged it a bit, which makes my eyes look wider.