Page 4 of Caged in Flames

Chapter Two

“Nix, are you sure you’re ready for this?” My mom’s voice stirs me from dozing while leaning against the cool window. Her car is approaching the metal gate that closes off the academy during the week.

It’s been 15 months, 3 weeks, and 4 days since the day I succumbed to the inner demons I’ve spent so much of my life fighting. Giving up on life was such a heavy decision for a 16-year-old to make. I wanted to sink into whatever abyss that follows what we call living.

For those few moments before everything faded away, I felt lighter than I ever have. Of course, if anyone knows you don’t get what you want out of life, it would be me.

That was how I found myself at Green Woods Behavioral Unit instead of whatever afterlife awaits us. For over a year I saw so many doctors, tried several different combinations of medications, and went through daily therapy sessions. Though it was incredibly uncomfortable at first, eventually even the group yoga was enjoyable.

Until Dr. Grace, effort was minimal on my end. It was hard, and many days I found myself feeling completely raw. Others I would be numb to everything and everyone around me.

I’m glad I went through it all because at the end of that road, I rose anew. I wasn’t the sad little Diana Westbrook anymore. No, she bled out in that bathroom.

My middle name, Phoenix, couldn’t have been more perfect.

Mom didn’t bat an eyelash when I asked to change it up. I think she knew deep down that her sweet little Diana didn’t exist anymore. If she ever existed at all.

I realize Phoenix is a bit of a mouthful, so we’ve settled on a nickname. Nix.

I take a deep breath before answering her. “Yes.”

Mom gives the appropriate form over to the security guard showing I am a student here, and all I can think about is how thankful I am to have been born to this woman. She saved me. Thinking back on my choice, I hate that I caused her pain. She’s been the only light in my life and I regret that I hurt her. Our relationship hasn’t suffered, though, it’s only grown through this experience.

Cheryl Carter is my walking guardian angel.

She rolls up the window and continues the drive to my dorm. She looks me over from the corner of her eye.

Maybe most kids would be annoyed with their parents in this situation. Not me. I get it. She has every reason to doubt me. I don’t even roll my eyes in typical teenager fashion.

“Mom, I know it may be hard to believe me after everything I’ve put you through, but even Dr. Grace gave her professional blessing. I’m still going to virtual sessions with her and the monthly check-in she scheduled with the campus counselor. I can do this, and I will.”

Daily apologies were my way of offering her reassurance, but I can still see the doubt in her eyes. I’m sure the last thing she expected that day was that she would be rushing home to check on me after a coworker alerted her to what happened in the auditorium. That’s right. Word had filtered through all the parents before Headmaster Hargrove could call her himself.

Mom used to tease me about the gray hairs I caused her but judging by how often I’ve seen her use box dye to touch up her hair this summer alone, it’s not a joke anymore. Some days she looked at me like it was the last time she would ever see me. Other days, she gave me five hugs before breakfast. If she needed me to give her a full overview of every minute of every single day, I’d be happy to appease her to see a little less tension tugging down her shoulders.

Trying to show her in any way possible that she would never again see me like that is the least I could do to prove that I had changed. And I meant it. I am no longer haunted by bullies, and I certainly do not live in the void anymore. It hasn’t been easy to accept that I suffer from Major Depressive Disorder in addition to PTSD. But after weeks of blowing off talking about my feelings to faceless doctors with their prescription pads, I met Dr. Grace. She made me want to invest in healing.

So, I have.

Now, I’m back for senior year to face my demons. Well, most of them. My wicked stepbrother Charlie and his shithead friends Jude and Sawyer were expelled. Rumors vary about boarding school, military school, and corporal punishment. I don’t really give a fuck so long as they’re gone.

My junior year was spent inside the state’s best mental health facility recovering and completing school online. Unlike before, I am prepared.

During sophomore year, I was alienated by the general population here, and since no one knew me on a personal level, it was safe to assume they wouldn’t find the same weak little girl from before.

Mom begins unloading my luggage and after a quick check that her car is empty, we walk over to the building entrance. "When is your next appointment with Dr. Grace?"

"Next Saturday." I grab my key from the dorm advisor and lead us to the elevators. I can see her mentally cataloging her questions on the way up. When the doors open to the fifth floor, I head over to the room number that matches the digits inscribed on the key. Daddy’s money bought me an upgrade for my final year.

You can’t buy love, but I guess you can try to buy off the people you promised to love the rest of your life once you abandon them.

As we begin unpacking, I can feel the anxiety over my return here rolling off her. I straighten my shoulders and plaster on a smile. While I have my nerves, I am completely confident in my being here.

Blisshaven means open doors. Their music program was top notch, and though I haven’t performed for a crowd bigger than two in a year, I know that I was born to play the violin.

That will not be another thing they take from me.

"Do you have all your school supplies? Should we go grab some more pens?" She's starting to get carried away with worry, especially considering that I can see she just put three unopened jumbo boxes of ballpoint pens in the desk drawer.

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