Page 11 of The Cleaner

Five

LISA

I sit crossed-leggedwith my book in my hand listening to the cars go by. It's been seven days since I was released from the psychiatric facility; seven days since I walked back into my dad's home and watched that bitch pretend to give a crap about me.

When I woke up in a hospital bed, my body was extremely weak from my failed attempt to end my life. Anger simmered through me as I realised I was still alive, still trapped in this world that had caused me so much pain. My anger burned toward my dad, who had saved me, but also toward myself for not succeeding. But most of all, it burned toward Dad and Tanya, both of whom I’m forced to live with as I have no one else—neither care about me as much as I deserve.

Being here feels suffocating, like I’m drowning in their insincerity and lack of empathy, and at the same time I feel alone, like there’s no one, not one person, who can offer me a way out. My father cares more about his reputation than my wellbeing, and it shows in everything he does. He doesn’t understand or seem to care about the pain and fog I’m in. He’s only focused on what others may be thinking about the situation. And now, his overbearing concern means I can't even have myown medications without him monitoring every pill that goes into my mouth.

I'm trying hard, real hard to find a new path for myself, but it's so damn difficult. I find myself tripping over and falling right back to square one. I’m struggling to breathe, struggling to cope with the loss of Ma and the life I once knew. I have no idea how the hell I’m going to continue, but I have no other choice.

The home I have to be in is a living nightmare. Every day, I wake up and wish I could be transported to anywhere else, someplace far away from here. This should be my home, but instead it feels like a prison. Dad and Tanya have made sure of that.

I feel completely out of place, like an unwanted guest in their home. Tanya's disdain for me is crystal clear and her constant snide remarks make me feel like a burden. But I have nowhere else to go and she shows no signs of leaving. We’re stuck with one another.

The doctors are concerned for my wellbeing, even though I am numbed by the medications they've prescribed. Antidepressants are what’s keeping me going; they’ve lifted the fog somewhat. And twice a week, I sit and talk to Maura, my therapist. She's kind and understanding, never once making me feel stupid for the overwhelming emotions I experience. She knows that coming back to live with Dad and Tanya has only added to my struggles. She has spoken to my dad multiple times about the negative impact of having Tanya around, but he refuses to listen and she remains in our home. That's why I spend most of my time outside.

During my hospitalization, I talked at length about my guilt and anger over my mother's death. The regret eats away at me every day; I should have seen the signs, done something to help her before it was too late. Maura is helping me work through these feelings, assuring me that the anger is natural and willeventually subside so I can fully grieve. But I don't know if I'm ready for that yet. The pain already consumes me; I don't know if I can handle any more. Maura explained that my mother had been battling depression for years and sometimes it's hard to find the right help or escape the fog that surrounds you. In the end, my mother found her only way out: death.

I understand that struggle all too well. My lows are so deep and dark, it's hard to see any light at all. They swallow me whole, leaving me drowning in a sea of despair. I know how my mother felt, or at least I think I do. But I'm determined to find a way out of this darkness, for both my sake and my mother's memory.

My love for reading is what's become my safe haven. I've always enjoyed having my head stuck in a good story, being able to transport myself to another world and forget everything and be able to just be. I was scared when Maura gave me a book at the facility I was in; scared that it would bring back so many memories and guilt, but it didn't. Instead, I could breathe a little freer, knowing that I could escape into a new world and not think about anything for just a little while.

I hear heavy footsteps moving toward me and I pull back from my thoughts. Dad's here. I can tell by the heavy gait of his steps. He's always been a loud walker. Every day, he'll find me outside when he returns back from work. It's become a routine. One that's stupid. I'd rather he just stay in the apartment and leave me be. But he's all about pretences, and being seen sitting with me makes him look good to anyone watching.

"You're going to get cold out here," Dad says as he takes a seat beside me. "Why are you always outside, Lisa?"

"Where else am I to go? I'm not allowed further than this bench, remember?" I say with a raised brow as I turn to look at him. "That was the rule you set the day I came home from the hospital, right?"

I watch as his brows furrow and he takes a deep breath. "I get the anger. You're pissed that you're here. But, sweetheart, you're my daughter."

Anger whips through me, and I'm surprised by it. Over the past week, I've yet to feel anything other than a complete numbness. I thought the medication I'm on had stunted my emotions.

"Only when it suits you, right?" I fire back. This man shouldn't get into this right now. I'm so angry that I won’t be able to control my words, and if what happened the last time I was angry at him is anything to go by, I'm going to hurt his feelings.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he questions, his voice low and filled with confusion.

"Tell me, Dad, when was the last time you put me first? I mean, you tell me I'm your daughter, but you don't care about me. If you could, you would have had me stay in that damn hospital, wouldn't you?"

He rears back almost as though I've slapped him. "No."

I laugh. "I'm not deaf, no matter what you and that whore of yours think. I have perfectly good hearing. I heard everything the two of you said while I was lying in that hospital bed."

"Lisa, sweetheart, I didn't?—"

I shake my head. "Don't," I snap. "Don't, okay. I don't want to hear your apologies or hear you say you didn't mean it. Everything that's happened is because of you and your need to break everyone who loved you. Honestly,Ben, if I could, I'd be long gone from here. I hate you and I hate that bitch of yours. You've both destroyed my life."

"Where would you go?" he asks, and it once again solidifies everything I've been feeling. He doesn't care about me. I'm truly wondering if he ever did.

"Don't worry about it,Ben," I say in disgust. "You'll get your wish soon enough."

He and Tanya have no idea that over the past week I've slowly been stealing money from them. Is it right? No. But I need it. I'm going to escape this awful place and go somewhere I can be free.

"That's not my wish," he says thickly. "I don't know why you believe that I don't love or care for you. I do. Everything I do is for you."

I scoff. Is this man on drugs? "For me? No, everything you do is for Tanya. I hate her, Dad, and I hate being around her, but you chose her. So no, you don't care about me. If you did, you'd want me to be in a safe and happy place. Not with some woman who asked if I was crazy like my ma. Not a bitch who laughed at me when I cried because I was alive. Not a whore who has men coming and going from the apartment every day. You care about yourself and about Tanya. You're a good liar, Ben; so good, I think you've made yourself believe your own lies."

"Lisa," he says sternly, his voice trembling with anger. "How dare you?" he growls. "After everything we've done for you. We've given you a home, a safe place to live, and this is how you repay us? By making up stories to try and tear us apart?"

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