Page 40 of Pretty Black

“I need a Black, and then I’m going to give it another shot.” He headed towards the exit.

I ditched my headphones and sprinted after him.

“What the fuck was that?” I whisper yelled when I got him alone in the hall.

“What?” He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“You fucking know what, Iris Rose.” My voice raised with every word.

He lifted his eyes. Void. Empty. None of the person I loved left in them. “Do I? What are you asking me?”

“Did you write a break-up song before we were over?”

His lips curled into the most spiteful smile I’d ever seen him wear. “Guilty conscious much?”

“What?”

He laughed. “What indication do you have I would have written that before we broke up?”

“Did you write it on—” I didn’t want to say on ‘the psych hold,’ but I didn’t know what else to call it.

“Does it matter?”

“It does to me.” My chest heaved with the intensity of the hurt filling my chest. “Did you plan to break up with me before—”

“Did you plan to betray me to Alexander before?” The venom coming out of Iris was something I’d never seen in him.

“Of course not, Iris. I was worried about you.”

“Well, congratulations. You broke me. Hope that helps your worry.”

Loving Iris Black felt like an act of self-hatred, and I couldn’t stop.

TWELVE

PRESENT DAY

Iris Black

As I sat in intake, I didn’t know how I’d get through this. Most anyone would tell me it’s only a few days, and to suck it up, and I might believe they had merit in their arguments, except for the particular brand of torture my stepfather used to subject me to.

But this didn’t go the route I was expecting. I ended up in a room with a woman behind a massive desk. She looked important, like the director of the facility or something. Was I in trouble already? Maybe they’d put me in isolation because of my celebrity status, making this stay even worse.

“One second. I’m reviewing your medical records—the state submitted them,” she said after a minute.

I tried not to settle into a downward spiral of depression and anxiety, catastrophizing every aspect of this experience.

She asked me questions as she read about the fistfuls of medicine they had me on, as well as my diagnosis.

“Right, now that we have all of that squared away, I’m Dr. Khan. I’m the director here, but I also keep close tabs on the day-to-day and see patients. Since it looks like you’ve done this before, I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re in my office today.”

“Yes,” I said, wringing my hands in my lap.

“Because, along with your medical records, the judge personally called me. He had some concerns about the case and if this Alexander would make your mental health worse. Since he believes in keeping the state out of people’s lives as much as possible, he wants to be sure we do right by you, and he asked me to invest personally in your case. After skimming the surface of your medical records, I can’t help but think there is more going on here than could be presented in court.”

I lifted my shoulders, inherently not trusting anyone at a place like this. I didn’t want to give her too much. That would end up in a long stay, which I could only imagine anyone would recommend if they knew what went on in my head.

“I’ll take that as a tentative yes. Iris, I can’t imagine, with the broad overview the judge gave me, that it’s easy for you to trust anyone. I can’t imagine what you’ve dealt with in your short life after reviewing the notes from your psychiatrist, and those are only the things I’m sure you had to speak about because they transpired while you were under his care. The amount of medication they have you on is alarming.” She shook her head. “My initial assessment without even talking to you is that I don’t think any of the people who were trusted with your care since you were sixteen have done right by you, and that deeply saddens me. I know you have no frame of reference to believe me, but I promise to do my best. I take the care of patients seriously as my ethical duty, and I want to make sure you at least know there are options out there, even if you don’t want the help now.”

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