Blade Silver: Color Me Scarred (18 page)

Finally, it's time to clear the tables. I follow the example of the other girls, scraping my plate into a plastic trough, then depositing
my dishes and utensils in the designated places. Then I sort of slip
out the door, go upstairs, and take refuge in my room. Rather, m_y
side of the room.

Okay, I feel really frustrated now. I don't know exactly why. I
mean, no one's said or done anything to hurt my feelings, but I feel
so displaced, so lost, and even a little lonely. Do I wish I were home
getting yelled at by my dad right now? Maybe so. At least I know the
rules to that game. But here, I'm locked up with a bunch of crazies,
and who knows what might happen next? It's really pretty freaky.

Even though it's only seven o'clock, I feel like going to bed now.
I wonder if anyone would notice, or even care.

But then I would feel so stupid if they came up here, looking for
me, and saw that I was in bed. Maybe they have rules about that.
I know I signed an agreement to abide by the rules, but I was so
nervous that I read the list pretty fast. And now I can't even remember what the rules are. I try to take deep breaths, try to relax, but it's
like 1 just keep feeling more and more uptight. And then it occurs to
me that my old faithful Altoids box is still in my backpack.

Okay, I do remember that one of the forms I filled out asked
whether I had brought anything sharp or dangerous with me, and
naturally I checked no. It's not like I had actually forgotten about
the Altoids, but I figured I could always say that in my defense. That
little red-and-white tin seems to be calling to me now, promising me
some relief, a little bit of peace and comfort.

But I can still hear girls moving around the house like they
haven't started the movie yet. Some are coming upstairs, and I can
hear some of them using the bathroom, and I wonder where I can
possibly do this. Where is a place that's private?

I decide that I must simply wait until things quiet down. Movie time begins at eight, and I expect that most of the girls will be clownstairs by then. If I can just keep it together for fifty-five minutes,
then everything will be okay.

And so I wait. When Alexi comes in to get something, I pretend
to be working on that questionnaire. Like I'm trying to do a really
good job.

"You coming to see the movie?" she asks as she rummages
through a paper bag in her closet. She finally emerges with several
candy bars, which she quickly pockets. I can tell she didn't want me
to see that, so I pretend not to notice.

"I don't think so," I tell her. "I'm kind of tired. It's been a long
day, you know."

"Yeah, it's always like that at the beginning."

The beginning of what? I just nod like I know what she means
then turn back to my questionnaire.

Finally the upstairs is quiet, and I'm pretty sure the movie is
starting by now. It's a little after eight when I creep down the hall to
the bathroom, Altoids box in the back pocket of my jeans. I go into
the stall farthest from the door, put the lid down on the toilet, and
sit. I hold my breath for a few seconds, just to listen and make sure
no one's coming upstairs. But it's still quiet.

Within minutes I am done with my little deed. I hold a wad of
toilet paper against the cut, pressing it hard to stop the bleeding.
But I totally forgot about bandages. They're still in my backpack. I
listen carefully before I emerge from the stall, still holding the toilet
paper to my arm, making sure that no one's around. Then I even
snoop through the other girls' shelves to see if anyone else has some
bandages that I could "borrow." Of course, there are none. What am
I thinking?

So, keeping the wad tight against my arm, I pull down my sleeve and tiptoe back to my room. I quickly locate my box of Band-Aids.
Then, with my clothes still on, I get into bed and pretend to sleep.

But as I lie here with my eyes closed, all I can think is that I am
a stupid mess. A big stupid mess. And I don't see how anyone can
ever straighten me out.

SOMEHOW I MAKE IT THROUGH SUNDAY WITHOUT CUTTING. OH, I GET TEMPTED,
all right, especially when my roommate is anywhere nearby. I
have really tried to avoid her today. I don't know what it is about
Alexi-and believe me, it could be lots of things-but it's like I
cannot stand this girl. I can't stand to see her, or hear her, or even
smell her. And it's not just because she's fat, but it's like how she
talks in this sort of dramatic, sarcastic way-like she's the star of the
show, and everything is all about her.

On top of everything else, she farts in bed. Really loud, like she
gets a kick out of it. Talk about sick! Even my brother, Caleb, isn't
that gross. And she snores-I mean seriously snores. I think I was
awake half the night listening to her sawing logs. Just the thought
of this girl makes me want to cut myself!

So I'm wondering, how am I supposed to get better at this place
if my roommate makes me want to cut? Even so, I keep telling
myself that I won't give in to this. If I can resist the urge to cut today,
I might be able to make a better case of getting out of here sooner.
Which is what I think I want to do. I want out of here ASAP. I plan to
speak to Nicole about it first thing Monday.

Then Monday is here and suddenly I'm going to classes and
group sessions and doing chores and doing my journal assignments, and there's no chance to tell Nicole that I want out. So I end up in
the bathroom stall with my trusty Altoids box, and I tell myself that
I can give this place another day.

Tuesday comes, and I sit through the classes and group sessions,
doing my time, and I do my chores and journal assignments. I say
as little as possible to everyone. and finally it's time for bed, and I'm
actually pretty tired. Amazingly, I have not cut myself.

Then Wednesday comes and I am totally fed up. I'm sick and
tired of hearing these girls going on and on about their stupid lives
during group sessions. Okay, I realize that some of them have really
big problems. Some have been sexually or physically abused, and it's
no surprise that they're cutters. And then you have girls like Jessica,
who's been cutting herself since her dog died. Her dog died-give me
a break! And then you have the freaking crazy ones like my roommate. She's not only a cutter but she pulls her hair out too. That's
why she's bald. She's even pulled out her eyebrows and eyelashes.
She says she does it because she's fat. Like being bald makes it easier
to be fat? Whatever

"So you think you're better than the rest of us, Ruth?" demands
Charisa at this afternoon's group session.

"Huh?" I snap to attention, since I'm pretty sure she's talking to
me. "What?"

"I said, do you sit there while we talk just thinking you're so
much better than us?"

"No," I stammer. "I never said that."

"Sure, you never said it. But we can tell just by looking at you
that it's what you're thinking. Right, guys?"

Everyone pretty much nods. I'm not sure if it's because it's
Charisa making this accusation or what, but I have no idea how to
respond. I've been in this same small group for three days now and I know most of the names of the other seven girls, as well as their
problems. I guess I'm just a little tired of all their whining.

"Is that true?" asks Nicole, our moderator.

"What?" I say, stalling for time.

"Do you think you're better than the other girls?"

"No." I shake my head and look down at my lap.

"You do too," snaps Charisa. "Everyone can see it."

"That's right," says Alexi. "You're always looking down your
nose at one. You think I can't tell?"

Well, that just does it. Something in me can't take it. "Okay!" I
say loudly. "Maybe it's true. Maybe I don't think I need to be here.
So what?"

Alexi just laughs now. "Yeah, talk about denial. Ruth Wallace
wins the cake. We should call her Cleopatra, cuz she be da queen
of de Nile." Then she does this cheezy Egyptian thing like she's the
first person who ever thought of that ancient joke, and everyone
laughs.

I totally snap. I want to hit Alexi. I want to smash her ugly face
in. I stand up and point at her. "Look, I'm not like you, okay? I'm
not messed up like you are. I mean, look at yourself! You're a onewoman freak show. And I have to share a room with you. I have to
listen to you snoring like a stupid buzz saw every night. And I have
to smell your freaking farts! And I have to-" Suddenly I feel sick
and shocked, like I cannot believe I have just said that. What is
wrong with me?

I can tell by her face that I hurt her. But she's right back at me
now "And you think you're little Miss Perfect? You think you can
pull something over the rest of us? We know you're just as messed
up as the rest of us. Only you're never going to get better, little Miss
Perfect, because you can't even admit it."

"Admit what?" I no longer care what she or anyone else in this
room thinks.

"That you can't quit cutting yourself. Yeah, you sit there one
meeting after the next, you listen to the rest of us telling about our
problems, but you can't even admit that you're a cutter. And I happen
to know that you've been cutting yourself since you got here too."

Now the room gets quiet. And I know this is considered a serious offense. Cutting is definitely against the rules.

"Is that true?" asks Nicole.

I don't answer. I just stare at Alexi like I wish she were dead.
And I do. I really wish she were dead.

"It's true," spits Alexi.

Nicole and everyone else are looking at me now.

"Ruth?" says Nicole in a calm voice. "Have you been cutting?"

"No." I look down at the floor now

"Liar!" says Alexi.

I don't respond.

"Ruth, we'll talk privately after the session," says Nicole.

And then she continues with the session. I just sit there like a
stone. All I can think is that I want out of here. Let me out of the
loony bin before I really hurt someone.

Nicole leads me to her office after the session ends. "Have a
seat," she says then sits across from me.

"Why did you let Alexi treat me like that?" I say.

"You both said some ugly things, Ruth."

"But she started it." I guess I'm hoping that if we can keep this
focused on Alexi, I might somehow escape.

"That's what happens sometimes. The girls won't tolerate having
someone in their group who won't participate."

"I participate."

"No, Ruth. You pretend to participate. But you're not really
sharing. Don't feel bad, though. A lot of girls start out the same way.
Good grief, it took Alexi two weeks before she finally gave in."

I consider this. "But what I said was true. I can't stand Alexi. I
hate being her roommate. She makes me totally sick."

"You were sick before you got here, Ruth. Alexi might bring the
sickness to the surface. But that might be a good thing too."

"A good thing?" I hear the volume of my voice increasing. "How
can it be a good thing if she makes me want to cut?"

Nicole nods. "So Alexi was telling the truth."

I don't say anything.

"Have you been cutting, Ruth?"

"I want to go home," I say. "I can't stand this place. 1 can't stand
Alexi."

"Well, at least you're being somewhat honest now, Ruth. That's
progress. But you still need to answer my question. Have you been
cutting?"

"A little."

"Show me your arms."

I feel a mixture of shame and anger as I push up my sleeves. But
there's another part of me that doesn't even care.

She examines my newest cuts. "What are you using to cut
with?"

"Razor blade."

"Did you bring it with you?"

I nod.

"This means Juanita will have to go through all your things
now."

I sort of remember this from one of the forms I signed. It was a
trust agreement. I had broken it, which gives them the right to do random searches now. It's like I've been demoted a security level.

"I really want to go home," I tell her again. "I don't think this
place is helping me. I think I'd do better on my own."

She smiles. "I wish I had a dollar for every time I've heard that.
I could probably retire tomorrow."

"I mean it," I say.

"I'm sure you do. But without treatment and commitment, those
are just empty words. You might as well be a drug addict who says
she won't use again, or an alcoholic who promises not to drink. This
is the truth: You will not get over this without help, Ruth. But you
can get over it. First of all, you have to be willing. You have to want
to get well."

"I do want to get well. Why do you think I agreed to cone?"

"Good. And you've come to the right place, and we want to
help you. But you're the only one who can make it happen. You
have to cooperate with the program. You have to participate with
the groups. You have to be honest, Ruth. You have to accept that
you have a serious problem. You have to be willing to examine the
reasons why you started cutting. And then you have to deal with
them."