A Song for Us

Chapter Thirty-six

SARAH

I WAS LOCKED IN a cage like a little bird. The room was sterile but somehow felt dirty. I was on the fifth floor of the hospital, a floor reserved for those who needed rest. Needing rest was code for “crazy,” but it was nice that they tried to spare my feelings. I didn’t want to rest, I wanted to run as far away from here as possible.

“Can you tell me what you’re feeling right now, Sarah?” the woman next to me asked, and I couldn’t help but laugh as I cried. What a silly question. I was locked up against my will with cuts slicing down my arms and I had just been forced to vomit up the handful of pills I had swallowed. How did she think I felt?

“Why are you asking me such a stupid question?” I looked toward the far wall as I tried not to focus on the panic that had settled in my chest.

“Why do you think it is stupid?”

“Who is coming to visit me?” I turned to look her in the eye now.

“No one if we don’t think it will be conducive to your recovery. But we can’t be sure of that without getting some answers from you.” She leaned close and placed her hand on top of mine. “We want to help. We can’t do that without you wanting it. Aren’t you tired, Sarah? Tired of holding it all in until it explodes like it did today?”

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath as I begged my body to stop shaking. I couldn’t do this anymore. I was tired of pretending to be strong until I hurt myself. The sooner I cooperated, the sooner I could move on with my life.

“I was eleven when my mom married Phil.”

The memories, the nightmares, all poured out of me. I told her about my shame and guilt. I even told her how I had left my little sister behind in that hellhole.

She never judged me or told me I was a bad person, even when I explained the events that had led me to this place.

I expected looks of disgust but was met with sympathy, and I wished I had met her years ago, but I knew in a place such as this my story was probably something she had heard a million times over. I’m sure she was desensitized to it all, and I wished I could be. I hated how heavy my chest felt as I thought of those nights.

After our talk I was given my dinner and told that I should participate in a group meeting. The idea made me panic all over again. I could stand in front of thousands and pour out my soul, but somehow this was worse. I would have to look others in the eye as I confessed my sins. I didn’t want to be judged by my peers. I wanted to be the Sarah who was onstage. She was a fearless rock star that people loved, but it was all smoke and mirrors.

I barely managed to keep anything down, and that the hospital food sucked didn’t help. I ate half of my Salisbury steak and pushed my vegetable mix and mashed potatoes around my tray.

The nurse eased my fears about the meeting as we walked down the narrow, white hallway and into a large common area.

“This won’t be very painful, I promise. This is an anger management group.”

“Oh . . . I’m not angry.” I stopped walking and shook my head.

She smiled over at me and put her hand on my back to urge me forward. “We’re all angry, sweet pea.” She winked. “We just need to know the right ways to deal with it.”

The room had hotel-type couches and a few games stacked along one of the walls. I expected the patients to be crazy and climbing the walls, but I was surprised to find that most looked like me.

I stopped in the doorway, covering the bandages on my one arm with my hand, feeling embarrassed. “I’m cold. Can I get a sweater?”

The nurse smiled at me, her hand rubbing over my back the way a mother would caress a child. “You can’t hide from your problems. They don’t go away like that.” She glanced over the handful of patients lounging on the couches. “They all have a story to tell, just like you. Don’t be scared.”

I nodded, pulling my lower lip between my teeth as I slowly walked over to an empty spot on a couch. I kept my eyes downcast as a few of the others talked among themselves. I pulled my legs up to my chest as I pulled a strand of hair in front of my face and inspected it for split ends. I needed something, anything, to keep my focus off the situation. “Free Bird” played loudly in my head as I tried to use my oldest method of escape, but it wasn’t working. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, and I wanted to run back to my room and lock myself inside, even though I was sure the doors didn’t have locks, at least not on the inside.

Finally, an older gentleman who looked like someone’s grandpa came in and took a seat in a wingback chair. He wore a button-down shirt with a gray-and-maroon sweater vest and dark gray slacks.

“Welcome, everyone. For those of you that are new to the group, my name is Dr. Rodgers, but I like to keep it friendly, so you can call me Phil.”

My skin began to crawl at the mention of his name. I peeled one of the pieces of medical tape from my bandage and scratched my nails over one of my cuts.

“This is an anger management group. We are going to discuss healthy ways to deal with anger, but first, let’s introduce ourselves, shall we?” He smiled wide as his eyes danced around the group.

“I’m Jake,” said a boy who looked about eighteen or nineteen, shrugging his overgrown brown hair from his eyes.

“Would you like to share something about yourself with the group, Jake?”

“Yeah. This group is fucking pointless.”

Dr. Rodgers nodded and folded his hands on his lap. “Du-ally noted, Jake.”

“My name is Annie. I’m fifteen and I don’t belong here,” a young girl with shoulder-length blond hair said. Her voice reminded me of a cartoon character’s and she looked like one of those overly popular girls from school. She didn’t look as if she belonged here at all.

“Excellent, Annie. Stick around and participate and we will see how it fits for you.”

She rolled her eyes as the doctor spoke, and I hated how blatantly disrespectful she was to him.

“I’m Joel and I know I need this group.” The room erupted in laughter at the boy in his early twenties with his hair buzzed to the scalp. He looked as if he belonged in an army barracks somewhere and not in a nuthouse.

“Don’t we all know it, Joel.” The doctor chuckled and it reminded me of Santa Claus.

All eyes turned to me and I stiffened as I tried not to meet their gazes. “My name is Sarah.”

“Nice to meet you, Sarah.” The doctor smiled.

“Nice to meet you, too, Dr. Rodgers.”

“Please, call me Phil.”

Bile rose in my throat and I dragged my nail over one of my cuts again, focusing on that pain as opposed to that in my chest.

“I’d rather not.” I ground my teeth together as I spoke, trying not to let my voice shake.

His eyes drifted down to my bandage, which now had a fresh spot of red around the corner. “You can call me whatever you like.” His smile was back in place but I knew he had seen what I had done. “Would you like to share something about yourself?”

I glanced around at all the faces as they waited patiently for me to say something. “I . . . like to sing.”

“Perfect. You are the only one who had something positive to say. That’s very good, Sarah.”

I gave him a halfhearted smile and he focused his attention on the group as a whole. I relaxed in my seat.

AFTER A SLEEPLESS night I was sent to meet with a therapist. I was asked a million questions but most had to be repeated as I slipped inside my head and began tapping out the beat to one of my songs. I wished I had finished my song with E. I wished I had done so many things, but ending up in a place like this felt unavoidable. I still couldn’t see a way out.

“I’d like to get you started on a few prescriptions, but to be honest with you, Sarah, the true healing will come from therapy.”

“Can you tell me how my boyfriend is doing?” Even after all he had done, I couldn’t help but worry about him. If I could force my heart to forget him, I would. But I knew that would only come with time.

She flipped through the papers on her desk as she read over them. “Can you tell me the events that lead to your stay with us?”

“I already told that other lady.” I rolled my eyes and the therapist took off her glasses and sat them on her desk as she relaxed in her chair. I didn’t like that she was talking to me as if I were a child.

“I have her notes, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

“You have her notes?” I pushed up from my oversize chair, feeling betrayed.

“Sarah, we are all here to help you. We can’t do that if you won’t open up and trust us.”

“I did open up, once, but apparently I trusted too soon. I want to go home.” I folded my arms over my chest and the doctor pressed her lips together in a tight line as her gaze fell to my bloodied bandage.

“Where is home?”

“I don’t know. I need to talk to Derek. I need to make sure he is okay. He could be dead for all I know, and none of you will tell me anything.”

“Derek was released this morning. He was bruised and needed a few stitches, but nothing was broken.”

I sat back down in my seat as the wind was knocked out of me. “I want to see him. I want him to come visit me.” I peeled the remainder of the paint from my thumbnail. I needed to show him what he did, what all of his lying and cheating had done to the person he was supposed to love.

“He flew to Texas to be with his family. I’m sorry, Sarah. I wanted to bring him in on one of our sessions but he didn’t want to participate.”

It felt like a shotgun blast to the chest. He had left me? After what he had done and the things he had said, he left me?

He didn’t even care enough to find out if I was okay?