Page 2 of Fractured

“Because you’re my mother,” I recited like I was speaking an unenthusiastic line in a high school play.

The real answer was much deeper than that. Much darker.

I’d never admitted it out loud, and I never would. Not even to my friend and psychologist I’d been seeing for the last three years since my mother was incarcerated. Sorry, I meant admitted.

The truth was, I needed to see what I could become. This wretched reminder of the future I might face was the motivation to keep myself sane. To work on my life and my mental health to avoid this bleak alternative. And I was too scared to speak it into the universe.

I wasn’t superstitious. I wasn’t. Still, if I put the words out there, it was almost like a self-fulfilling prophecy I couldn’t let happen.

I felt like an evil person for using my mother this way.

She started to mumble incoherently, then slowly, I started to pick up more and more words.

“Lilith…demon…nurse…regret…” Too soon, she thrashed her head back and forth against her flat pillow, working herself up into a frenzy. I’d be forced to call the nurse if she didn’t calm down.

No, she couldn’t break down now. It was true, I came to see what I could become, but I could only face the very best possibility. When she regressed, I wanted to crawl under a rock and disappear. Already, the urge to flee was nipping at my heels as I nervously glanced around. There was really only one way I could calm her down.

“Mom.” I leaned forward and grabbed her arm lightly. “Mom, okay, okay, listen. I believe you, I know you shouldn’t be here.”

At first, she didn’t react to my words or my touch, but eventually, her movements slowed and she stopped straining against the straps.

“They’re evil, right? You believe they’re evil too? Can you get me out of here?” For the briefest of moments, her eyes were wide with a childlike vulnerability.

“Yes, they’re evil. I’m going to get you out of here, but it’s going to take time. You have to be good and listen to everything they say. If you don’t, it will be too hard to get you out.” I lowered my voice like I was conspiring with her.

Her doctors would probably have something to say about playing into her delusions, but I couldn’t watch her devolve into an episode. On a day where I was already holding on by a thread, it was likely to send me out in tears.

“What?” The skin around her eyes pinched as she processed everything I said. “No, you’re in on it with them. You’re one of them.” Lauren thrashed even harder and screamed at the top of her lungs. “You’re not my daughter! My daughter would never do this to me! You’re one of the demons here to kill me!”

Her voice was so shrill, I had to cover my ears and run for the button next to the door. I buzzed it once. Two times, three. Then four, five, six.

The door swung open, and Rhett stood there in all of his blue scrub glory, not a hint of surprise anywhere on his face. “Come on, Lilith. Amy is on her way down to see your mother.”

Rushing out, I inhaled a deep, cleansing breath, just now realizing I’d been holding it the entire time I waited for the door to open.

Rhett said nothing as he walked me back to the front, scanning his badge to unlock the doors. Giving a halfhearted wave, I walked through the sign-out procedures like I was wading through a hazy sleep.

“Got any big plans this weekend?” Sophia smiled, showing a dimple as she took back the visitor’s badge.

“No, maybe some yoga. Nothing big,” I said distractedly. Didn’t she know I didn’t want to stay here any longer than necessary?

“You’re gorgeous. When are you going to get a man?” She took the clipboard back to her side of the glass.

“Oh, I doubt there’s any out there who would really want to date a woman with a mother in a mental institution. They always say a look at her mother is a look into her future. I’m just not ready for that kind of scrutiny yet.” I tapped the pen against the gray counter two times before dropping it.

She nodded as if she understood completely. “I get that. My mom looks like she moonlights as a barn after being ran over a few times by a public bus.”

Not the same at all, but it was kind that she tried to relate.

“See you next time.” I pivoted on one heel, too ready to get out.

“Wait.”

“Yes?” I glanced back at her.

“Why do you come see her? Sometimes I volunteer with the patients, and I know Lauren. She’s never nice, and she’s hardly ever lucid. Why come and put yourself through that?” Her tone softened from the bubbly personality moments before.

I was touched by her concern, but a little voice in the back of my head said she could see through my motives. Don’t worry, not a real voice, more like instinct.

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