tw: suicide

Another day, another snap in the back. She was used to it, the pain becoming a regular routinely thing she hated. But that's what happens when you listen to a song with the window open—you fly out of the car when you crash.

Kellie had been at the hospital for at least five years, but nothing was working. She longed to go back to the side of the road where her mom died again. But she was already a high-risk patient in the psych ward, so to run off and go to the side of the road wasn't smart.

It was her birthday. She was .. sixteen, now? Maybe she was seventeen. She couldn't remember, the days blurred into one another. Time was supposed to just stop when her mom died, but it kept on moving. It was terrible to her—cruel, even.

But the routine of the hospital was at least a good thing for Kellie—or at least that's what she was told. Wake up, get ready, breakfast, group therapy, activity, individual therapy, activity 2, group therapy, dinner, book reading (for the littles), and then sleep.

Today's activities. She always checked them while getting ready. Hers were.. Art and grief group. Fucking great! Kellie knew her mom was dead, she didn't want anyone to sugarcoat the fact that her condition wasn't better after more than five years and the facts that she'd tried to run into the street after the crash "so he could hit her too".

But Kellie had a follower. She sat across from her, she was one of the littles. So Kellie sighed and got up from her bed, meeting the green eyes that stared at her with longing curiosity.

"Morning, Zenia."

"It took you a while to get up," said the little girl, who looked and acted to be around ten years old, "You missed breakfast, but don't worry! I saved you a muffin!"

Zenia, Kellie's roommate. She was here because her parents were serial killers. But she'd get better. Everyone got better except for Kellie.

"Thank you. What time is it?"

"Uhhhh.. Kellie can you read the wall clock? I wasn't ever taught how."

"Right. 11:32. Thank you."

"Of course! And we both have art today! I didn't go to group therapy today because the topic was about something called 'brainwashing' and I wasn't ever taught what that meant," said Zenia, bright eyes looking down to Kellie.

Zenia was a tall little girl, 5 feet and one inch at ten. Kellie had topped out at 4'11. So it did fill her with a little envy, but she had rather it be that then the fact that Zenia had parents that were alive, because that was unfair.

"Kellieeee!!! Can you braid my hair? Nobody does it good like you do. I want it in the special braids," said Zenia, the childlike glow still in her eyes. She was childish to cope with her pain. Kellie knew the girl behind the childish glow, but she didn't want to. The other girl was sad. Very, very sad.

French braiding. That was what Kellie knew it to be called—the "special braids" she gave Zenia. Of course, she did them, and Zenia was happy and bright. Her smiles brought a little light to Kellie's life, too. She was like the child Kellie knew she could never have.

Once the two were both ready, they walked out together. Onto art. Zenia would go crazy, creating everything she could. Kellie would probably quietly color or make an origami thing for Zenia. She knew the little girl would keep them. They all lied on Zenia's windowsill, lined up neatly in rainbow order.

They both got to work on their separate things. The ward was calm, at least, over in the high risk area. Everyone there had been there for a while. At least a year. They knew there wasn't any hope of getting out, so why bother kicking and scratching to change anything?

Art was the calmest hour of the day. The lunches got handed out during the period, and Kellie watched, as oddly, Zenia refused hers. Why would she do that? She never did that, the kid was always hungry. Kellie foolishly ignored it, wanting to master the making of her gift for Zee.

"Zee. Here you go," said Kellie, who had finished her gift for her.

"Thank you!! You can have half the ones you made me," said Zenia, "Especially the blue ones. Thems blue, like your eyes!"

Kellie giggled, smiling at the kid, "Thank you. I made this one in pink. Your favorite!"

"It's beautiful," said Zenia, smiling as she looked at it, "I love it! Thank you Kellie! For all of it!!"

For all of it? Kellie knew she was grateful. The little girl reminded her that she was every time she saw her. And since they were roommates, that was all the time. So why would she say that, was the one wonder Kellie had.

Maybe she was just being nice. The break after Art wasn't exactly a time to think about that, it was a time to think about her already done problems. Individual therapy.

Same old, same old. "I don't know how to live without my mom" "I just want to give up", things like that. Constantly on her mind, those things were. And they were important, but she never actually felt improved by the individual therapy sessions.

Kellie was exhausted after therapy but she walked to grief group, prepared to tune it out. She knew Zenia always had the same activities as she did. But she looked around, and Zenia was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm- is Zenia Marcolos supposed to be here," asked Kellie to the speaker quietly.

"Yes, but she hasn't shown up. Why?"

Oh no. Zenia was never late to anything, not even grief group. What was happening? Was Zenia just napping? Her therapy was the first time slot there was, so maybe she was just napping.

"I- think she's just taking a nap," said Kellie, "Can.. Can I go get her?"

"Of course, dear."

Kellie walked down the hallway of the hospital, the gray and blue halls seeming to fade into the same color as she walked slowly, not paying attention to it.

Their room was the last little room on the edge of the hall, but something was wrong. They had made a door sign. It was in beautiful, screaming color. "Kellie and Zenia's room" it read. "Please knock!"

Zenia's name was crossed out in the most violent red color Kellie had ever seen. What was happening? Was Zenia moving out? She knew she was getting better. Zenia showed so much improvement.

Kellie knocked carefully. Zenia was a light sleeper. Plus, it was the rule. Always knock.

No answer.

Knock, knock.

No answer.

KNOCK, KNOCK.

No answer.

Finally, Kellie gave it up and tried the doorknob. To her surprise and worry, the door was locked. Zenia was definitely in here, but why was the door locked?

Kellie was pulling, pulling the door with all her strength, trying to pick the lock, thinking of everything she could that would unlock the door. She knew something was wrong. Zenia didn't just lock the door.

Creak.

The door opened. The lights were off, but the room smelled so weird.. what was going on? Was this a trap? Had someone dragged Zenia away and was planning to drag Kellie away too? At least they'd be together.

The lights flickered on, as Kellie turned on the light switch, and the first thing she noticed was a pool of red on the floor. Red? Red. What was red? The marker.. no, this wasn't the right shade. It looked like—OH, SHIT!

Kellie frantically searched for Zenia. Where was she?! Why was there blood on the floor? Was she hiding? Was this a prank? Why on her birthday?! What was happening?!

Finally, Zenia was found. But the sight of her made Kellie nearly throw up.

She was dead. There was blood over her chest, and her legs, too. Kellie had seen the sadness behind her eyes, but she thought Zenia was getting better! She pulled Zenia out pleadingly, trying to see if the blood was fake, trying to see where the blood was coming from.

There was a kitchen knife next to her, one of those aggressive ones the cooks used when there were pigs nearby and they needed to kill them for meat. The kids weren't supposed to get them.

No.

No, she couldn't have.

She killed herself.

Beside her, a note. Kellie could barely see, the tears now spilling out of her eyes. She was so young! Kellie thought she was getting better! She was so stupid to think that one day Zenia would be able to get out of this hospital and get cured..

Dear Kellie,

I'm sorry. I couldn't take it anymore. Mama and Dad shot each other in prison and they both died. I found out not that long ago. I was lonely. But I was never alone, not when you were here.

You told me the time, you gave me my special braids, you made me things. That's more love than I've ever been shown in my entire life! Thank you! I know you'll make it to Heaven after your long life because of this.

I know you're gonna get better, you may not believe me but you've made it this long without trying to do what you found me doing. Dying. Dead. You kept going. You're braver than me. I'm a coward.

Her last letter of life and she'd called herself a damn coward. This caused Kellie to break into little sobs, holding the little girl as strong as she could without breaking her.

I'll be waiting for you in the good place, I hope. I want to go there, I've heard there's a lot of cats. And you can have all my stuff, as I don't want it to go to waste. I love you, Kellie! As much as I can hold in my heart, that's how much I love you.

Love, Zenia

P.S: I'm really, really sorry. Please don't be mad at me.

Another death in the hospital shouldn't have been a huge shock—the high risk kids found any way to die—but this one hurt her so much.

"I couldn't be mad at you," Kellie whispered in between sobs into the dead little girl's ear, "Not even if I'd tried to."