Her. Part 27

"Like I said, it will help me determine what kind of psychological test I need to administer. It also helps with me with your diagnosis."

"What's my diagnosis?"

"I'm not going to mark it officially until after you take the test," he said.

"Do you have any idea?"

"Kristen," he said.

"Please, Dr. Pelchat," I begged. "As hard as it was for me, I sat here and I was completely honest with you, and I answered your questions. Could you please tell me something?"

He looked at me with sincere eyes. He opened my chart back up and scanned through his notes. "I'm not making this official," he said. "You have symptoms of what is called Borderline Personality Disorder."

I sat back in my chair. "A personality disorder?" I asked. "You mean, like I split into different personalities like Chris and Jake? What do you mean?"

"No," he said. "Not like that. It's Borderline. It means that a person with BPD is suffering from a split in their personality that borders them on psychosis and neurosis. Do you understand?"

I shook my head.

"On the borderline of psychosis and neurosis. Psychosis is an impaired state of mind. There are the delusions, the twisted perceptions, and personality changes that you have displayed here. And then there's neurosis, which is a mental imbalance that can cause you to be stressed, and it often causes depression, but it does not prevent you from making rash decisions and functioning normally in everyday life."

"So, I'm just a confused person?" I was certainly confused now. "That doesn't make any sense, Dr. Pelchat. It has to be one or the other."

He looked worried. "I shouldn't have said anything. I apologize, Kristen. This is not your official diagnosis. But now that I've told you about this disorder, and just in case, I feel that you should educate yourself."

He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a thick, paperback book. He placed the book in my hands. The cover of the book was black and white. There was a picture of a woman on the front cover. She was staring into a mirror. The mirror was split in two. One side of the mirror the woman was smiling and wearing all black and on the other side of the mirror, she was wearing all white, and she was frowning. It reminded me of a yin-yang symbol, and the comedy and tragedy theatrical sign.

He said, "Read this book. It may not be the best book on the subject, but it will give you a better understanding of Borderline Personality Disorder. When you read it, please do not take everything in it personally. It doesn't all pertain to every BPD sufferer. It's more of a general textbook on the disorder. I would like for you to read it to gain some understanding of BPD."

I took the book and tried not to look scared. I didn't want to have Borderline Personality Disorder. I wanted to go home. Scared, I stood up when Dr. Pelchat stood up.

He said to me, "I'm going to speak with you and your mother tomorrow during your session."

"It's going to be a family session?" This didn't comfort me at all.

Dr. Pelchat said, "It's not going to be a family session. You probably won't have one of those until you are ready to leave Bent Creek. We are just going to touch basis with your mom on your progress and let her know about the testing. It will be all right."

I nodded, trusting him.

"Come on. I'll take you back to the unit. Please read that book when you get a chance."

I knew I should have trusted Dr. Pelchat, but the thoughts in my mind were racing. I could just picture how this meeting was going to go with Mom, Dr. Pelchat, and me. I could see Mom angry and fighting to remain calm while Dr. Pelchat told her what was going on. Then, when she had her chance, she'd pounce on me with her harsh words and anger, and blame me for causing all of this trouble. I was useless. She told me what she needed and expected of me, and I seemed only to make things worse.

CHAPTER 33.

That night, after our group meeting with Ms. Mosley, we all sat around and waited for Geoffrey to tell us it was time to go to bed. I was sitting on the sofa with the book that Dr. Pelchat had given me. Nervousness prevented me from opening it. I just kept looking at the cover and reading the back of the book over and over again.

Everyone who had to take medication had lined up at the nurse's station and were waiting for their pills. Janine was in line, and she was standing behind Mena and in front of Daniel. I noticed Daniel staring at her. His eyes were low, and he hung back like he was checking her out. I sat the book down on the occasional table near the sofa. Then I got up, walked over to Janine, and touched her shoulder. She looked at me and smiled. Daniel smiled at me as if he was happy to see me.

"Do you have to take nighttime medication?" Janine asked.

"It was boring, sitting over there by myself," I told them.

Daniel laughed. He said, "Yeah, we need a game system in here, like an Xbox...or something."

I laughed, and stumbled back. Stumbling caused a chain reaction. I b.u.mped into Janine, and Janine accidentally b.u.mped into Mena. Janine jumped back and scooted next to Daniel, which made it look, from Mena's point of view, like I had hit her. When she turned around, she saw me standing there.

"I apologize, Mena," I said to her.

She moved in close to me and stung me with her eyes. She got so close that I thought she was going to hit me.

Mena said, "It's not business. It's personal."

"What?" I asked.

"Mena Suarez!" the nurse called out to her.

Mena turned to the nurse and realized just then that it was her turn to get her medicine. The nurse placed the cup of water and the small cup with the medicine in it on the table.

"It's time for your medicine," the nurse said in a sweet voice.

Mena gulped down the medicine. When the nurse was finished checking her mouth, Mena turned around and brushed past us without saying a word. She went straight to the Girls' Unit. Janine looked at me and shook her head as she walked up to the nurse to receive her medicine. I looked at Daniel, who was chuckling to himself.

He said, "That girl is crazy. I thought Tai was messed up. Looks like Tai has met her match."

I kept an eye on Janine. She was sorting out her medication with the nurse. I used that opportunity to talk with Daniel.

I said, "Are you feeling okay?"

He stopped chuckling and his smile disappeared. He nodded and looked away from me.

I smiled and said, "Okay."

The nurse called Daniel up to the counter. I moved out of his way, and, as he stepped up, Janine walked up to me and said, "Come on, let's go to the room. They are going to tell us to go to bed soon anyway."

I grabbed the book off the table and caught up with Janine. As we walked off to the Girls' Unit, I looked back at Daniel. He swallowed his pills without the water, and the nurse checked his mouth. When he was finished, he stepped out of line. Janine and I were about to go through the doors to the Girls' Unit when Daniel looked over at us. I knew I wouldn't see Daniel for the rest of the night. Yet, I didn't want to let him go without knowing that he was okay for sure. When he looked at me, our eyes locked. I gave him a warm smile. He took a deep breath, making his chest rise fast. Then, as he exhaled, he let it slowly fall. Before I followed Janine out of the room, I saw him return a smile to me.

CHAPTER 34.

During visiting hours the next day, there was a lot of talk about Rocky. Everyone seemed to have different versions of Rocky's suicide attempt. They made up stories of how it happened, and what the counselors had been doing while he had hurt himself. The truth was, no one really knew exactly what had happened, and how it had happened, except Dr. Pelchat, because it was his job to know.

Daniel was in counseling with his mother and Dr. Finch. A lot of the parents who were visiting seemed to be upset and concerned over Rocky and about their kids' safety. My mother in particular was very upset.

Dr. Pelchat led us to his office, which was across from Dr. Cuvo's old office. Mom and I sat down in the chairs that faced Dr. Pelchat's desk. He didn't bother to open my chart as he normally did, but he seemed to want to get right down to business. Mom was determined, too.

Mom began, "What is going on around here? Is it true that a child committed suicide? How are we supposed to trust our children in your care if you don't have people working here that can prevent these things from happening?"

Dr. Pelchat sat back in his chair. He didn't look upset or bothered. He crossed his left leg over his right and leaned back with his chin up and his right hand rubbing his stubble.

"I understand your concern. Please let me a.s.sure you that Kristen, as well as the other patients here, are in the best care of our counselors, nurses, and doctors. What happened to the patient the other night was an unforeseen event. My counselors were on task and keeping watch. You must understand that there are thirty-eight beds in total on the Adolescent Ward. More than half of those beds are filled right now. We don't keep eyes on them when they are in their beds, asleep, every single minute. We do night checks, and we keep watch at night. The patients in the Adolescent Ward are responsible enough, once admitted to their rooms and are moved from Level One, to be trusted on their own at night. Unfortunately, the patient that was hurt was an exception. If it serves as comfort to you, the young man is not dead. The staff that was on duty that night was able to get him medical attention before his condition worsened."

My mother looked at me, and then coldly turned to Dr. Pelchat. "How can I be a.s.sured that Kristen will not be in any danger of trying to commit suicide again?"

"Mom," I pleaded.

"That's up to Kristen," Dr. Pelchat said. He looked at me. "Kristen makes her own choices, just like Rocky did. We will, however, move her back to Level One, take away her privileges, and that limits her freedom on the ward, if we feel that she is in danger or in need of that extra attention. But Kristen seems to be progressing fine. I don't think that we have anything to worry about." He smiled at me slightly.

I turned to my mother and sighed. Mom kept her eyes on Dr. Pelchat. She seemed satisfied to hear his a.s.surance.

She said, "So, what happened to Dr. Cuvo? I thought that he was Kristen's doctor."

Finally! I thought to myself.

"That is one of the things I wanted to discuss with you today," Dr. Pelchat told her. "Dr. Cuvo is no longer a part of our staff. His contract with us has ended. I am Kristen's doctor now. I meet with her every day, just as Dr. Cuvo did. I will prescribe and monitor her medications. First, I have ordered a psychological test for Kristen so that I can give her a proper diagnosis. Then I will be able to prescribe the right kind of medications that will help her. I don't want to just put her on something and hope that it works. I would really like her to get the right help so that she can recover and leave Bent Creek, and hopefully not have to come back here for in-patient treatment again."

"I would like that, too," Mom said.

"Kristen has been doing very well in her meetings with me, and with her groups and the counselors. The transition from her treatment with Dr. Cuvo to me has progressed well. Transitioning can be a bit difficult for most patients because they form trusting relationships with their doctors, and this trust takes time to build. I want all of us - you, me and Kristen - to be able to work together at some point in opening the communication up between the two of you, and eventually in a family meeting that will include Kristen's siblings."

My heart jumped.

Dr. Pelchat continued, "Because once you are out of here, Kristen, you may only see me once a week for out-patient treatment. You will need to be able to open up to your mother."

"And you," he said, turning to Mom again, "should be able to be there for her when she needs to come to you. Kristen is not in a normal situation. If she were, she wouldn't be here. Right?"

"Yes, well," Mom began. "I hope we can do something to help her. Why do you have to give her a test? Is it for any particular mental health disorder or illness?"

Without hesitation, Dr. Pelchat said, "I'm going to test her for Borderline Personality Disorder."

"What is Borderline Personality Disorder? Is it some kind of disease?" Mom asked.

"It's not a disease. It's not something that you can catch, like a cold," Dr. Pelchat said with a little aggravation in his tone. "BPD has to do with emotional irregularities, meaning that something that may affect you and me, in what would be considered a normal way, might not necessarily effect a person with BPD in that way. The emotion becomes so much more intense than it should be, or we could see a major lack of emotion compared to what is considered normal. BPD is a complicated and sensitive disorder that requires treatment, and patients need careful monitoring of medication. That is why I want to give Kristen this test so that I can properly diagnose her and give her the right treatment."

Mom sighed and shook her head in disbelief. She said, "How did this happen? How did she get this Borderline Personality Disorder?"

"Honestly, right now I can't pinpoint exactly what caused it in Kristen. If the test shows that she should be diagnosed with BPD, then I will find out why so that we can conquer it. But most studies have shown that BPD usually develops around her age, and it is common in women who have suffered abuse as a child, and also patients who have parents who have the disorder."

When Mom heard that, she gasped and sat back in the chair. She shook her head.

"I see," Mom said. "Well, you know, Kristen seems to have so many problems. I mean, look at her arms! You see how she started cutting herself up and doing all of these self-destructive things. I want her to get some kind of help that will make her stop this. I feel like it's my fault because she doesn't talk to me. She's mad at me or something. That's why she did this!" She gestured to my wrists.

I hid my wrists in my lap and looked down, trying to hold back tears. I hated when she blamed herself for the mess I caused. She probably didn't really feel like it was her fault, but she sounded convincing. She wanted Dr. Pelchat to feel sorry for her and see what she had to go through and deal with. What she had to deal with was me. Her problem child. Her disturbed and sick daughter. The daughter that should have been dead weeks ago.

Mom went on. "And my son. He watches everything Kristen does. He looks up to her. I'm sure she's told you what happened to our family, and what happened to my son, Nicholas."

"Mom, no, please," I said. I couldn't hold my tears back any longer.

"Nicholas and Alison are my two youngest children. They are twins. Nicholas was molested by my husband, Jack. Jack's not Kristen's father. He's the twins' father."

I reached out and tried to grab my mother's arm, and I begged her to stop, but she grabbed my hand and squeezed affectionately, which made my tears come out even harder. Listening to Mom talk about our family was heart-wrenching. The metal ball turned in my chest so hard that I felt as though my heart was going to explode. I wanted her to stop it, but she only made it worse.

"No one knew what was going on. But when everything was brought out into the open, and my husband was locked up, the judge ordered that I send Nicholas to a doctor for counseling. It has helped him so much. I wish that I had thought to get Kristen into counseling as well, because then we probably wouldn't even be here. Nicholas would never try anything like this. But if he sees his big sister, whom he looks up to so much, doing this, then I'm afraid that he's going to get all kinds of thoughts in his head."

No, I thought. Not Nick. He knows that he has people who are there for him. He was the one who was hurt. He was the one who needed counseling after what had happened to him. Not me.

Why was I behaving this way? Why did I feel this way? Why did I want to die? Sitting inside that office, listening to Mom spill all of our secrets, I was reminded of that feeling that I had felt weeks before, when I had picked up the bottle of pills and had washed as many down as I could before I'd started feeling nauseated. I'd stood over the bathroom sink with Nick's face fresh in my mind.

One pill for Nick. Another pill for each tear Nick had shed while Jack had thrust his disgusting genitals inside of him. I had a hard time swallowing those pills down because of the fear that rose up inside me from knowing what I was about to do. The bitter taste and chalkiness of the pills made me sick. I finally chewed and swallowed the pills down, along with the fear. "This has to be done", I told myself. Then I started over.

One pill for losing my Daddy. Two pills for me standing there and watching everything happen. Three pills for not screaming. Four pills for not moving. Five pills for finally having the proof and not running to the phone right away. Six pills for my stupid mouth dropping wide open and not making a sound. Seven pills for knowing what was going on all along. Eight pills for not doing a d.a.m.n thing about it. Nine pills for crying about it every night since that day, and not being able to sleep. Ten pills for hating Lexus and John. After ten pills, I tilted my head back and emptied the rest of the bottle into my throat. I choked and chewed those chalky pills down. I thought that last one was for Nick.

As I felt myself fading away after taking the pills, I saw clearly in my mind the day everything fell apart. The day Nick was sick and had to stay home from school. The day Mom asked me to stay with him, but I told her that I had to go to school because I was too concerned about a stupid test that I didn't want to miss. When the truth was, I didn't want to be home in that horrible house full of monsters. I could feel it every day and every night. Besides, Nick was old enough to stay home from school by himself for a few hours. He could take care of himself until three o'clock, when Alison and I got home from school. Being stupid and selfish, I went to school, and there wasn't any test. I convinced Mom, though, and she finally agreed that Nick would be all right.

I didn't expect to see Jack's truck in the yard when the school bus brought me home from school. He usually didn't get home from work until a little before Mom got home from work. Alison and I should have gotten home first. When I went to unlock the front door, I saw that the door was already slightly open. I pushed the door open quietly and entered the house. After I closed the door, I tried to stay quiet as I headed towards Nicholas' bedroom.

As I moved closer, I heard strange noises--smothered cries, hard grunting, and growling, like an angry dog. The noises grew louder as I got closer to Nick's bedroom door. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest when I heard those smothered cries. Nicky was crying. He was hurt. Naturally, I rushed over to his door, but before I could put my hand on the doork.n.o.b and push the door open, I was stunned and paralyzed by what I could see through the crack.

"Nick!" I screamed.

I thought I screamed. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I couldn't do anything but watch Jack push himself into Nick while he buried Nick's head in the pillow, face down. Nick was smothering in his own tears and the pillow. Jack pushed and pushed. With each push, Nick screamed and cried harder. He couldn't breathe! His face was in the pillow to smother his cries.

I heard him. I could have stopped him, but I didn't. I didn't stop Jack. Jack stopped himself when he came. He fell, exhausted, on top of Nick's little body. Nick stopped screaming and laid limp, face-down, in the pillow. That's when I moved. That's when I screamed. That's when I was sure that the demon had killed my little brother.

"Nick!" I screamed and screamed his name at the top of my lungs, afraid that he was dead.

When Jack heard me, he looked up. He saw me standing in the doorway, screaming and scared out of my mind. Jack jumped up from on top of Nick, and he pulled himself out of him. His private parts were swinging everywhere. Frightened, I ran into the kitchen and picked up the phone. I didn't hear the phone ring, but when I picked up, Mom was on the line.

"Kristen?" she called out to me. "The phone didn't even ring once. How did you know I was calling?"

"Mom," I cried. "Mom, please come home! Mom, please!"

She heard the panic in my voice. "Kristen, I'm in the car right now. I'm right around the corner. I was just calling to let you know I was coming home early to bring Nick his medicine."

"Kristen!" I then heard Jack yelling at me. He was stumbling down the hallway as he tried to put his clothes back on.

Afraid, I dropped the phone without even hanging up. Then I ran over quickly to the sink and grabbed Mom's chef knife. I grabbed the biggest one that I knew would do the most damage.