Page 23 of One of Our Own

FELICIA:My name? Who cares about my name—she’s Chloe Danes. That’s her name. Chloe Danes. And I know where she’s calling from… I can give you the address. I just have to look it up. [rustling, movement, breathing hard] Here, 554 Thorn Road. You have to help her. Please, don’t let her hurt herself! There’s a gun in that house. She has a gun. I heard it. We have to stop her in time—

DISPATCHER:Help is on the way. We’re doing everything we can.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

At first glance, the psych ward seemed like a hospital floor that had been transformed into a college dorm. Tiny studio apartments with common spaces. Not at all like a regular hospital. Everyone, even most of the nurses and staff on the floor, wore regular clothes. There was no medical equipment. No machine sounds or beeping. So, it really felt like walking into a college dorm, until you looked a little closer. The world of no edges or sharp corners. Nobody had shoelaces or wore belts. Most of the furniture was bolted to the floor.

I walked slowly down the hallway. I’d never been in a psychiatric facility before. It’d been three days since Chloe was admitted. Her seventy-two-hour hold was officially over, but they were still keeping her. She’d probably be here for a while, but at least she was safe. From herself, from the boys who attacked her, from the kids at school still making her life hell. I’d called her parents as soon as I got off the phone with the 911 dispatcher, going straight to the school’s directory and finding their number.

Chloe had barricaded herself in the bathroom with a gun, and it took two hours to get her out. I’d checked in with her dad every day since: He was incredibly grateful I’d gotten her to tell him, and even more grateful I called him and 911 that night. They’dagreed to put me on Chloe’s visitor list, and she said she wanted to see me, too. But now that I was here, I had no idea what I was going to say to her.

I walked up to the nurses’ station in the center of the floor. The one space resembling a traditional hospital setting.

“Excuse me, I’m here to see Chloe Danes?” I said to the woman furiously typing behind the huge desk. I never understood how people could type with acrylic nails, but she was a pro. Her fingernails clacked on the keys while she spoke.

“Are you on her visitor list?” she asked without looking up.

“I am.”

She grabbed a clipboard lying next to her and slapped it on the desk. “Sign in. Then, just wait in room 22B over there on the left”—she briefly glanced up, motioning to the hallway behind her—“and someone will bring her to you shortly.”

“Thanks,” I said, scrawling my name at the bottom of the list.

Room 22B was tiny. Just two molded plastic chairs and a table. Empty beige walls matching the beige-carpeted floors. The color seemed a bit depressing for a psychiatric facility, but maybe it was calming. I had no idea.

I didn’t have time to get any more nervous, because the door opened as soon as I sat down in the chair closest to the wall. Chloe was led in by one of the nurses. He dropped her off, then closed the door and posted himself up right outside the door. The head nurse had called yesterday to go over the visiting procedures, and she explained that Chloe was still on one-to-one supervision.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was out of my chair and wrapping my arms around her, squeezing her frail body tight against mine. I was halfway through the hug when I realized I’d thrown myself at her without asking her permission. I pulled back and held her at arm’s length while I looked at her. Here. Alive. Infront of me. “I’m sorry, I just… I’m so glad you’re safe.” Tears glistened in my eyes. I didn’t realize I’d get so emotional seeing her. She looked slightly embarrassed, like any teenager. Her long hair was in a messy bun on top of her head. She wore flannel pajama bottoms and a big gray hoodie.

“It’s okay,” she said, stuffing her hands in her pockets and shuffling to the other chair. She curled into a ball in the chair, bringing her knees up to her chest. No shoes. Hospital grippy socks on her feet. She looked so different from the school picture they’d shown on TV. No makeup. So much younger. Still a child.

“Thanks for seeing me today.” All I’d done for the last three days was think about all the things I wanted to say to her, but the words disappeared as soon as she was sitting in front of me. I just wanted to take her in my arms and let her cry. Had someone done that for her in here? That’s what I wanted to ask.Has someone held you?But instead of unloading all my questions, I just sat in silence, waiting for her to lead the way this time. She’d ended up safe, but I couldn’t help but feel like we all failed her.

Her eyes were heavy, like she was medicated or sleepy. It was hard to tell which, and I had nothing to compare it to.

“My mom just left. Did you see her?” she asked, finally breaking the silence.

“No.”Please let her have a good mama,I thought. She’d looked wrecked on TV, but you never knew who people were behind closed doors. “Did you have a good… visit with her?” I didn’t know what else to call it.

Her lower lip quivered. “She just read me Harry Potter like she used to do when I was little and got sick.” The tension coiling my insides released. The weight of the full responsibility immediately lifted. “She’s really mad at my dad, too. Like, making-him-sleep-in-the-guest-bedroom kind of mad. And that’s only happened oneother time in my whole life.” A tear slipped down her cheek. She brushed it away with the back of her sleeve. “She hates that he made her go on TV.” I hated that for her, too. Chloe glanced up at me, real eye contact for the first time. “I’m glad you made me tell my parents, though. Even if I did end up in here. I needed my mom.”

I reached across the table and grabbed her hands, squeezing them tight and doing my best not to cry. “I’m so glad to hear you say that. Honestly, sweetie, I had no idea what I was doing. All I wanted to do was keep you safe and alive. I knew there were people out there that loved you, and I’m so glad your mama showed up for you. Sounds like your dad tried, too, in his way.” I didn’t want to forget about him or let him get thrown under the bus. His intentions were good. Same as mine.

“I know he did.” Her body slowly melted in the chair. I felt so relieved not to have to ask about her mental health or her state of mind. She was in the hands of real professionals. People who knew how to help her. Ones who could keep her safe so I didn’t have to anymore.

“I won’t stay long because I know you have limited free time, and I don’t want to take up all of it. I just wanted to come see you and let you know I’m here if you ever need anything. You have my number in your phone, obviously.” I gave her a wink and she gave me a little smile back. She was going to be okay. Not right now, and probably not for a long time, but I could see that fighter spirit in her eyes. “Don’t be afraid to reach out. I know everybody always says it, but I mean it.” I gave her a pointed look and another smile. “And you know I’m the girl that always answers your calls, no matter what time it is.”

“Oh, I know.” She was still smiling. It looked beautiful on her face. “You’re the only one I can talk to about what really happened, you know. I can’t talk to the police.” She shook her head. Her voiceslowed. The light in her eyes was gone that quick. “They’ve been here a bunch of times, but I can’t answer their questions. I just freeze. My mom’s there with me, and she doesn’t push me… That other lady is, too. The advocate or whatever they call her.” She stared at the floor, anxiously twirling the hair that’d fallen in her face. “Can I tell you something?” She kept her gaze down.

“Of course. You can tell me anything.”

“I can’t talk about what happened with my mom there. I know she’s there to support me and all that, but all the questions… the things they have to ask me. Like…” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “It’s all the bad sexual stuff they want to ask me about. And it’s all these in-depth questions about every detail, you know? Did they do that to you, too?”

I nodded. “They did, and it was awful. I hated every single minute. I’m sorry you have to go through it.”

“But Iwantto tell my story. I really do. Even if it’s awful. I want them to find those guys and punish them.” She slowly lifted her gaze from the floor. Sadness filled her eyes. “My mom flinches next to me all the time… and she lets out these little whimpering sounds? I’m not sure she even knows she’s doing it. She can’t even handle theirquestions,so she definitely can’t handle my answers and I don’t want to hurt her. I—” And then she started crying.

“Oh, sweetie, it’s going to be okay. Can I give you a hug?” She nodded and I hurried around the table, engulfing her in a huge hug, chair and all. If she thought this would hurt her mother, imagine what losing her forever would’ve felt like. But I didn’t say that. It wasn’t what she needed to hear. “This must be so hard for both of you.”

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