Page 41 of Pretty Black

“Thank you.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“I know you are stuck with me for seventy-two hours at least, so why don’t I keep you on my caseload? I’ll do your assessment myself and review your medication and—” I started to object but she held up a hand and continued. “I’m not talking about the amount of Xanax you’re prescribed. I’m going to assume it’s the only way you’re functioning at the moment, considering the stress and your history of panic attacks. I mean the combination of SSRIs and antipsychotics. I wouldn’t recommend anyone be on this many at the same time. It’s reckless. I’m sure the side effects are the reason you need the stimulants and the Xanax combination as well. It’s also dangerous to wean someone off something quickly, but I want to run a blood test and evaluate through pharmacology if there is a better alternative along with your assessment. Does that sound okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m not trying to do anything without your consent. It seems to me you’ve endured a lot of violations when it comes to your mental health care and I want to make sure we are on the same page. I don’t want to do anything to your person or body you don’t consent to. Only if you’re in danger. So does your okay mean you are okay with me running a blood test and trying to adjust your medication?” she asked, not unkindly.

Everything in me wanted to like her, but I didn’t want to trust it or her or anything. “I’m okay with it.”

“Good.” She paused and studied me. “I read you had a hard time with your last involuntary admission. Do you want to speak to me about that? You don’t have to go into a lot of detail, but maybe giving me a better idea of why these stays make things worse would give me a better idea of how to help you while you’re here.”

I exhaled. “I don’t have a hard time with it...” I didn’t know how much to go into. I’d never told anyone about my father’s particular brand of torture, and I didn’t want to ever admit it to anyone. It seemed so stupid when I tried to put the fear into words. “I hate it. It’s more than that, even. It’s torture.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me right now, but can you tell me how it makes you feel so I can figure out what might best help?” She sounded so kind.

I hated it. I wanted to hate everyone here. “Claustrophobic.”

“Do you suffer from claustrophobia? I didn’t see it in any of your records.”

“I don’t know if that’s really what I should call it. It’s only in specific circumstances when I’m restricted to…a single room.” More detail than I’d wanted to give away, but I guess it was enough.

She studied me again, not speaking for a long moment. “We have rather large grounds here, and because of the nature of some of the long-term stays, we allow some patients full access to the grounds. Would unrestricted access help?”

“You mean I can go outside whenever I want?” I glanced out the window, having been too wrapped up in my grief and leaving Caspian to notice the grounds. “You’d let me do that on a psych hold?”

“Yes. We monitor the grounds, and you would have to be in by sunset, but that’s pretty late because of the season.”

“That would help. Thank you.” Warmth filled my chest, and the gratitude threatened to spill out of the corners of my eyes.

“Excellent. Why don’t you go have that bloodwork done, have some lunch, and then you can look at the schedule and decide if you have any interest in the programing for the day. But I suspect you’re going to go sit outside.”

“You’re probably right.” I shifted in my seat. “Do you have any books I could use? The last place I—I did this in had books other patients left, and they let me read.”

She nodded. “We actually have a whole library. I’ll make sure you’re approved for that section as well.”

“Thank you for your kindness.” I really had to get out of here. My eyes welled up.

“You’re welcome, Iris. I’m going to try and make this as painless as possible for you.”

I wandered around the grounds, a book in my hands, realizing it was the first time I’d done something like this in years. I barely spent any time outside, always in the middle of a city locked up in a hotel room some place.

I chose a spot in the sun to lie down on the blanket they’d given me, spreading it out before stretching out on my stomach. The tears finally came, and I hid my face in my arms. Not like there were many people around to notice, but it still felt too exposed.

I was incredibly lonely. I missed Caspian. I didn’t want to sleep alone. I didn’t want Alexander to expose the last things my brother had said to me. I didn’t want his story to be public consumption. I didn’t want to be blamed for his death any more than I already blamed myself. I could only imagine how the public would think my money could have solved anything, and I didn’t do enough to help him.

The tears dried on my face as dinner was called. I stayed where I was, flipping through the book of poetry, not hungry, wanting to sink into the earth. I didn’t know how to accept the desire to be with Caspian and see what our future held while also facing the certainty of raw exposure at Alexander’s hands, simultaneously wanting to live and wanting to die.

THIRTEEN

TWO YEARS AGO

Iris Black

October

Everything was different and yet the same.

I couldn’t bring myself to care about anything since Alexander had admitted me. Not even writing music brought relief. Nothing felt real. I stayed in a haze of all the meds I could take, feeling more like a zombie or cyborg than a human. Without emotion, I couldn’t form lyrics. I barely found the will to get on stage to finish the US portion of our tour, and I didn’t know how I’d get through the other legs. I should have been excited about touring Asia for the first time, but joy felt like a distance concept I couldn’t quite grasp.

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