Coral Eyeshadow E-Book

Emilie Tschanz

• Herausgeber: novum pro Verlag
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 392

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

For some people, life sucks. Research chemist Mia has been through a lot. Dragged by 'boyfriend' Mike into a life of crime, coerced into working in a factory producing counterfeit cosmetics, she is stuck in a cycle of hope and despair. Landing in a psychiatric clinic after attempting suicide, Mia is offered the prospect of friendship, in the form of Alice, a fellow patient. But that prospect turns to tragedy, while shady Mike - is it love, hate or both? - sticks to her like glue. A helping hand is not far away, as Ava, a nurse at the clinic, enters with her apparently insolvable problem. Can Mia return Ava's kindness and save Brice, Ava's husband? This is a story of a young woman's search for meaning in a world of crime, betrayal and exploitation, from debut author Emilie Tschanz. .

Leseprobe

Contents

Imprint 2

Every Story starts somewhere 3

Unwanted second chances 16

Mexico City 27

Give me a break 49

Uncherished memories 60

Loss 75

New Beginning 80

The end, or something like that 89

Happiness is only a phase 99

Phase 2 destruction 108

Support systems 126

Cherry cheesecake secrets 136

I still love you 154

More problems or solutions 165

Desperation 182

It is a small world 190

Welcome to reality 195

Destination destiny 201

Imprint

All rights of distribution, also through movies, radio and television, photomechanical reproduction, sound carrier, electronic medium and reprinting in excerpts are reserved.

© 2022 novum publishing

ISBN print edition: 978-3-99131-424-0

ISBN e-book: 978-3-99131-425-7

Editor: Roderick Pritchard-Smith

Cover images: Johanna Goodyear, Danazurki, Prostockstudio, Pattadis Walarput | Dreamstime.com

Cover design, layout & typesetting: novum publishing

www.novum-publishing.co.uk

Every Story starts somewhere

There was no sign of the sun, and the skies were filled with bulky grey clouds. A thick layer of smog loomed in the air. The weather was depressing just like my mood. It was a Monday, which meant that I had to make my way to work. I didn’t like that, not at all. Maybe, it was because what I was doing was illegal or maybe it was because my boss was a total ass. Anyway, I was only doing it for the money, and it was kind of worth it since I couldn’t get a job anywhere else because of my past. I was kind of grateful for this job. Or was I? Well, I let myself think I was. All I could smell was wet cardboard and cigarette smoke when I entered the factory. where I worked. It was hidden in the woods in the middle of nowhere. It was one of those places that no one could find if they weren’t looking for it. Well, even if they were searching for it, they probably wouldn’t be able to find it. I personally hoped no one was hunting this place down. I actually hoped that no one knew about it. I made my way up to the second floor. The stairs were always a challenge for me because I had lost one of my legs approximately ten years ago.

When I finally managed to get to the top of the cement staircase, I took a deep breath before I hobbled along the long hallway to my boss’s office at the end of the hall. Upon entering, the first thing that I heard was the loud and powerful voice of my boss. I started getting a sicking feeling in my stomach, even though this was normal behaviour for him, it still made me feel uncomfortable. He gave me a wry smile, his eyes were glowing but not in a good way. His smug face disgusted me and filled me with anger. I could feel my insides boiling up and wanting to punch his face.

‘Your’re work is well below what we want! Watch out or we’ll whack you!’

That was a normal thing my boss would say to me. The first time I had heard those words, I had been perplexed but not any­more. Now I was just uncomfortable and angry, very angry. I continued to listen to my assignments for the day and then went off to my lab to start working.

I was in charge of creating the recipes to produce counterfeit beauty products and other things that I did not want to make. It did not really matter what was mixed in those cosmetics. All that mattered was that they were quick, easy, and cheap to produce. I knew that I used toxic substances that caused health issues. However, I didn’t care. I used to care but my concern about everything when it comes to my emotions have faded, especially my feelings towards these beauty products. They were just objects to me. First of all, I was not the one using these kinds of cosmetics, secondly, I really needed the money, thirdly I was afraid of leaving, and last but not least, I could not get a legitimate job because of my criminal history and my missing ID. So that is why I was stuck doing this job. Despite that I hated doing illegal counterfeiting, but I must admit, I was pretty good at it. The production of the drugs was another story. I hated doing it even more than the cosmetics. The cosmetics were giving people rashes, harming their lungs maybe, intoxicating their skin. But they weren’t contributing to a drug epidemic, they weren’t killing thousands of people. I just could not get the picture out of my mind of a teenager taking these pills or whatever else I was asked to mix together. Then they would either get hooked, addicted for life or die or end up in a hospital. To me this was horrible, like what the fuck was I doing with my life. I tried not to think about it but that was not all too easy. They weren’t the drugs we used to have like pot or heroin. They were chemical party drugs, stronger, more addictive and a lot more dangerous. I just wish I did not have to do it, I wish I could turn back time.

I was once considered to be a decent, upright person or that is at least what I think. I had completed my master’s in chemistry and had finished top of my class. Sadly, back then, I had become friends with Mike and my once perfect life was destroyed bit by bit.

I was working on an eyeshadow that could sell for eighty dollars but could be produced for thirty cents. That was insufficient for my boss. He always wanted more. He wanted the impossible. The thing was, he did nothing the whole day and earned millions of dollars while the rest of us worked for three dollars an hour and were treated like slaves. We all stuck around for the torture because we couldn’t do anything better with our lives. More importantly we were afraid of the consequences of leaving. I wish I could turn back time and go back to my nice little apartment in New York with my well-paid job but that’s simply just not possible. Impossible, and due to my numerous bad decisions, I have ended up here. Every single day, I work for ten hours, with just one fifteen-minute break. And every day, I think about how stupid and blind I must have been as a student as a student to have agreed with Mike. I should have not listened to the things he said. I should have known better. I should have suspected that all he wanted was to cover his own ass and continue with his illegal business. He never had any intentions of becoming a better person. Be that as it may be, I had been vulnerable. He had a life plan to become the one of the richest men in the world, in a not very legitimate way. Well maybe at first, he had intended to do it through a respectable career but, well, what can I say? He didn’t. And for all the things he did he would send others to prison and probably still does. Well actually, I know he still does. I know it. He had this manipulative way and was brilliant at persuading people to follow his orders. He had always looked so professional in his suits with his perfectly groomed black hair. Moreover, his eyes, his eyes were out of this world. If you looked into them, you would imagine someone genuine with a warm, giving heart. However, light blue eyes can fool people or at least they fooled me. They still sometimes do.

In the lab, I was mixing mercury, a heavy metal, into my eyeshadow powder when my ‘friend’ Lilian came in to bring me the cyanide I had asked for. Lilian was in charge of organizing the supplies to make the cosmetics. She looked really rough on the outside, but she was actually really nice on the inside. She had a big scar across her face and tattoos and piercings that covered her body. In addition to that, half of her red hair was shaved off and the remaining hair was cut into a weird zig-zag patterns. Maybe she just wanted to look rebellious, or it was a phase in her life. I remember when I was nineteen, I definitely would not have walked the streets looking like that and believe me, I had my teenage phase. Lilian ended up here because when she was sixteen, she washed money to be able to keep her three-year-old daughter from being sent to an awful orphanage. I also think that she worked as a prostitute, I am not sure though. I didn’t want to ask.

‘Thanks Lilian, that’s just what I was missing to bind the powder for the coral-coloured shade,’ I told her.

‘No problem, it’s my job. I have to do it, there isn’t much of a choice here,’ Lilian responded and then left. She always looked sad, and I felt so bad for her. Like most of the time her eyes had been full of water today like she was about to cry. I was unsure if it was the chemicals that let her eyes react like that or her emotions.

I went back to creating my eyeshadow. I made the last adjustments to the recipe and then made my way down the stairs to the other part of the factory where all the products were produced on a large scale. It was a big room, and the walls were so tall they seemed like they were toughing the sky. The few windows let in small amounts of light. I was surrounded by machines that were roaring and screeching. Left and right from me people hustled around, carrying supplies, operating the machines and packaging the products. Occasional you would hear a loud cough. The air down there smelt putrid, worse than the scent of smoke and damp cardboard in the entrance. It was a mixture of all the chemicals used in the products and the diesel that was needed to operate the machines. It probably also came from some sort of mould or mildew that grew down there. It was not very sanitary. I gave the recipe to Fergus. He was the one who supervised the production. He was a tall black man, approximately two meters tall. He had scars all over his face and looked very scary, however though he was one of the friendliest guys that worked there. I had figured that out the first days I had been staying in the bunker when I started working here. His past was one of the darkest though. I don’t even want to think about it.

‘Sis you did a quite impressive job on this one. Unfortunately, I know our boss never gonna show you any pride,’ he said. He was smiling at me, and it gave me this welcome feeling like I was wanted here. He stretched out his hand and patted my shoulder in recognition.

‘Well I can be proud of myself for at least developing a new recipe,’ I responded.

There was not much in my life that I could pat myself on the back for anymore.

‘By the way, the colour on this one is amazing,’ he continued to compliment.

‘Yes, the aniline I mixed in really makes the colour remarkable, almost like the original. Although, I don’t wanna know what it does to the skin. On that note, please tell your people to be careful with the aniline because it is highly flammable and can ruin the lungs if it’s inhaled,’ I responded.

‘Ok! Now go back to makin’ more phenomenal recipes before our boss sees us talking and not workin’ and don’t worry, I’m gonna make sure they’re careful with the aniline,’ he added. With that job done, I staggered back upstairs to my lab. I almost tripped on my way up the stairs. I wished they would invest in an elevator. But that would not happen that would be an investment for the workers what was not a thing in this place.

At six o’clock, I made my way home. I lived about half a kilometre away from the factory and I needed to walk the whole way with my crutches. The ground was covered in pine needles, tree roots and stones which made it tricky to walk. My house, the factory and the bunker are situated in an eighty-hectare forest. The forest consists of mostly pine trees but there are also various berry bushes. I used to pick berries and make jam out of them, but since we started dumping the toxic fluids in the river that passes the factory, I stopped eating any kind of produce that grows in the soil surrounding the factory. Most of the plants don’t even produce flowers or fruits anymore. Those chemicals also had an impact on the wildlife. The only animals I ever saw was the occasional raven, cockroach, rat or fly. I was relieved when I opened the door of my small house. The house kind of looked like a witch’s house or something like that or something like that. I was not allowed to live in the city cause our boss wanted to keep our lives hidden, to protect us, he had said. Except, actually, it was to protect the factory and his illegal business. He basically forced us to stay here and most of us were frightened of the outcome of leaving. At least, I was one of the lucky ones that had their own place and didn’t need to share an area, like most of the others. Well, the only lucky one. The majority of the other factory workers were housed in the big bunker underground. Approximately two hundred meters from the factory. As soon as you entered the bunker you would have to hold your breath because otherwise, if you weren’t used to the smell, you probably would throw up. The smell came from all the fungus that was growing down there. There was no way for fresh air to get in and the people lived on top of each other, literally. Each of them only had a small bed to themselves and had to share everything else. I had to stay there the first week I had worked at the factory. But I was moved to the little house, for my own sake I like to have my peace and quiet. I was lucky to get it because I could not stand that week in the bunker. I almost thought of committing suicide. Well, I thought of it, not only almost. I had planned out every miniscule detail. It had not been the first time the thought of killing myself had struck me.

I got home, watched the news and ate my dinner. My favourite part of the day. Not much else to enjoy. Rice with carrots – plain but tasty. I guess. Not enough money for anything fancy. But I was better off than some people – my friends in prison, for example. I could not afford more so I guess I had to live with it. Well actually, that was just a tiny problem or maybe not one at all. There was not a problem with rice and carrots, not at all they were two perfect things created by nature. I should have taken it as a privilege to have food and a roof of my own over my head, unlike my friends in prison. Well, if I could call them my friends. Like what are real friends? What I consider, I don’t have real, real friends anymore. I used to have some when I was living my nice life in New York. I think I could call them my ex-friends now, that was the right term I suppose. I had lost all of them due to what I did, or what Mike did. Maybe, I shouldn’t have gotten them involved. That was not very fair. It wasn’t fair but how should I have known? I had never imagined it ending up the way it did. I thought everything I was doing was form the good side and not the dark illegal side. I did not just ruin my own life but also theirs. Mike had changed me into a person I wasn’t. A person I was not supposed to be. A person, I did not want to be nor expected to be. Some of my university friends were in prison now just cause I had asked them for a small favour. I don’t even know if I can call it a favour, cause it was supposed to be something that should have benefited my friends and I. I thought it was going to be something memorable. I thought it was legitimate but actually Mike had laid a trap, for his benefit, not mine. To be honest, they were better off in prison than that bunker.

Why did I trust him? I should have known that he did not actually want a friendship. All he had wanted was to benefit from my kindness and vulnerability. And my trust in him as a person, a good person. He just wanted to be his selfish persona. Well, now I know better not to trust anyone. But one thing I will never understand is why I did not end up in prison along with the others. Why did he make it look like my friends were the only guilty ones in front of the court and make himself and I look innocent? But just when I thought I had left that chapter of my life behind me, I had received a letter from the police saying I was being accused of cooperating in illegal affairs. Which was actually true. Why had Mike betrayed me after so many years? Well, it wasn’t that long, if he had saved me from prison before? Maybe, he had just wanted to torture me by giving me a taste of a perfect life again and then ruining everything for me, my career, my health, literally my life by sending me to prison years later. After I had gotten out of prison, the only job I could get was the one at his factory. Maybe, it had been his plan all along. Mike is the worst human being there is. Why was I still under his control? He had taken everything he could from me. All I was left with was my soul and even that was not entirely mine. He had taken my identity, like literally he had taken my ID, my papers everything that made me a valid human on this modern planet.

‘I should stand up and tell the police everything. I have evidence but he would probably turn it against me again. But who cares? I have a shitty life anyway I have nothing to lose, except maybe my life. But I am strong now, I could save myself, I could be a hero,’ I said out loud as I took another spoonful of rice. A few grains fell down on the floor and I kicked them under the table. I was filled with eagerness to diminish this person I called Mike. He had no right to make me so small. He was not something better he was something worse. I put down my one foot down on the blue carped floor with all the force I had and made my way to the kitchen. I was filled with energy, I felt better than I had in a long time. I was strong, independent and free. I could be free. I could take my life back, he could not hold me back from that, I was way too valuable to be thrown away like that. I had worth; he just had made me blind to see it. But I had just ripped the sunglasses from my damaged face, I saw the reality. I stroke the maple of the wooden kitchen table. It was kind of falling apart. It had probably been left in the sun or something. The laker was peeling off and the sheer touch made me feel the splinters entering into my hand. But it felt more real than anything had in a long time.

The next day I took a chance I did not go to that stupid factory, I walked to the nearest road and hitchhiked to the city. I don’t know what had gotten into me. I don’t know what I had gotten myself into. I felt so badass doing this. I was as full of courage like the last time when I had left this rancid place. It was kind of scary and I was robbed on the way. I didn’t’ really lose anything valuable except ten bucks. Which I didn’t really care about. But I had gotten to the city, oh how I had missed New York. I felt the wind blowing through my long brown hair. I practically ran to the police station. I felt free. When I was working for Mike, I had felt more captured than when I was in prison. Prison was captivity for my body but not for my mind. I still had hope back then. Being trapped at the factory was like being in a cell without my soul. It was like I did not even exist. I looked down to the ground and watched my blue and pink running shoes move on the broken pavement, occasionally I would see a small weed climbing up between the cracks. I related to those plants, I was just like them. I swung the big glass police door open. I felt so euphoric. I could not believe how many people were sitting there. But I did not mind waiting. I was safe here. And I had wasted most of my life on Mike, the best years of my life. These minutes would not be wasted for him but against him. It smelled so clean in the police station. Everything was so sterile in comparison to the factory. The full police office was filled with blue armrest chairs and some green plants. I scanned the people’s faces in the waiting room, I saw people of all shapes and sizes. Literally there were small people, there were tall people, there were skinny people, there were fat people, there were old and young people. A little boy wearing a green cap caught my attention. He was sitting on his mother’s lap crying. He had a bleeding knee but other than that he looked good and healthy. His handy were tiny and were holding a play truck which was still covered in sand. When I looked closer, I could see the sand on his white socks and on his stripped blue shorts. I sat down in one of the last free chairs. It felt so good. I had not sat in such a comfortable chair in a long time. The last time had been in the court waiting room before I was taken to the women’s prison in west Virginia. That was the second time I had been to court. The first time was when I had been declared innocent and my university friends were sent to prison forever. Lifelong sentences. Honestly, this would never stop confusing me.

There was an old lady sitting next to me. We had a small conversation, in which I pretended to be a normal person with a normal life. I could not tell this lady about my catastrophic life. She looked so delicate she probably would have had a heart attack if I would have told her the truth. I should not even be thinking about the consequences of telling her the truth. This was typical me again though, lying. I would never have done that before I met Mike.

But when the old lady – Elizabeth – asked, ‘So why are you here?’, I was shocked and did not know what to say. I was totally taken off guard. I was unprepared for that question even though it was an obvious one. I had not thought things through, I did not think I was going to have to have a conversation with anyone. My brain had not gotten that far yet.

I quickly answered, ‘I want to tell the police something they need to know.’

Elizabeth must have been a wise lady, or she just did not care and said, ‘Don’t worry you don’t need to tell me. She had a smirk on her face as if she was amused by my answer. Personally, I don’t wanna tell you either why I am her, but since I can’t keep my mouth shut, I will tell you …’

I was so stunned after she had told me her whole story. With every letter she used to tell me her story I saw different wrinkles forming in her face. I felt connected with her. We were soulmates. Our conversation progressed for hours as we waited for our turn to talk to the police. She had told me that she had been working in prostitution for years and got dragged into the drug business. I had not expected that from her at all. She was this adorable old lady that could be working in a library. She had been raped by the owner of the brothel, accused of stealing their and been used her whole life. She told me about how she always was searching the meaning in life but simply could not find it. Even though she went through a lot and basically lived a wasted life she seemed happy and did not seem to mind the course of her life, it did not seem to bother her. She went on telling me about the love of her life, who had been a Jew. As she was Muslim she had run away from home for him. Times changed and they fell out of love. She said the cultural and spiritual barrier was too big and left them fighting. She told me about how he had abused her for years before she finally left him. She was left alone with a child with nothing else than a suitcase with clothes and a mind filled with depressed thoughts. Her son overdosed and died tragically. She ended up in a brothel, later in prison for robbery and now she was here. Over the years she had gotten out of prostituting, because she was to old and as she put it too ugly, but she had stayed in the drug business. She was an excellent mule, who expected an old lady to be carrying drugs. She had had a good or let’s say ok relationship with her boss, however, lately he had forced her to swallow drugs again and she had had enough. She wanted to turn herself in so she could retire in prison. I don’t know what I was supposed to think about that plan nor about the fact that she treated everything like a joke and made a huge story out of everything but well she was keeping my mind off of the obvious. In the end I told her my story. But I should have learned not to trust anybody. But I could not resist telling her this. It felt like an obligation in me, I could not hold my secrets within me anymore. I felt like I was doing it against my own will. I had lost control of what I was thinking and I was unable to restrain the words coming out of my mouth.

After I had told her my story, she said, ‘Be careful.’ And looked at me with an expression that wanted to say a thousand words but couldn’t. Was she somehow connected, or had I just met a crazy lady?

It was Elisabeth’s turn to go into the police office. But after she had entered the room, she never came back. The wooden doors of the office stayed close and did not swing open every few minutes like the had before. I did not figure anything bad, but I should have. I was called in to the office. But oddly I was taken back out with a police officer without even being able to say a single word. I was brought into an alleyway behind the police station. But I was just told to follow and that’s what I had done. Dumb me once again. The policeman that was leading me outside the station had told me his name was Daniel. He was tall and skinny; his face was round and he had short brown hair. He frightened me because his mood had turned as soon as we had left the station. His face was filled with emotions I could not figure out. He looked scared but at the same time he frightened me. He had aggressively grabbed me and pulled me into a dark alley that was about a block away from the police station. I hated these places in New York. They had always seemed scary to me especially after I had worked with Mike, and I had seen what he did there. My mind was turning rapidly. I had so many flashbacks to terrible things that had happened to me and to other people. I could remember myself standing in an alley about thirteen years ago. My tiny body had been trembling with fear and anxiety. But when my perfectly red-lacquered fingernails had passed through my then still soft brown hair, I remembered it was not me that had to be afraid. It was my friends that were not worth anything anymore to Mike. My mind got interrupted by a very angry voice. This time I should have trembled with fear, but I didn’t. I looked down at my know dirty nails and ripped skin. My hands were filled with scars and didn’t look nice and kept like they used to. But they were still they were calm, I was not afraid. All my anxiety had faded, if I just knew why.

‘Mia you are such an unroyal Bitch! I gave you a job after you left prison. I gave you a place to live and now you want to turn me in. Well, you should have thought twice about doing that. I don’t go to prison, other people do.’

I saw Mike’s face in the darkness of the alleyway. I was astounded. I had not seen his face in forever or that is at least what it felt like. I wanted to hit him so badly. Tell him what I thought of him. I felt my hands forming fists. But before I had more of those thoughts, I saw Elizabeth covered in blood lying on the floor. Her face was pale, and she looked, I don’t know, I don’t even want to know. Her grey hair was stuck together with blood. Her cute little dress was torn in pieces. I could smell the fresh blood mixed with the stink of garbage which was piled in a bin at the end of the alley. Her mouth was open and her eyes rolled back.

‘You don’t even have anything to say you little traitor,’ Mike yelled me.

I did. I had so much to say but no words could be formed in my mouth. My lips felt frozen. It was all so surreal. He looked straight at me, staring straight into my brown eyes. I felt like he was trying to destroy me by simply looking at me. I could not think straight, I was empty. No, that was not the right word. I was looking deep into Mikes eyes, and I felt like I was sinking into them. I felt something cold and pointy stab my back. It hurt but it felt nice, I was enjoying the pain. What was wrong with me, I was enjoying being killed? Did I really hate myself that much, that it gave me pleasure to fade away from this planet? I heard Mike laugh, his mean nasty laugh. It definitely brought him joy hurting others. Therefore, I enjoyed the ‘pain’ even more. Because if he enjoyed hurting people and I did not let him hurt me, I was kind of taking his joy. I did not even try to resist the force of the thing he was stabbing into me. It felt good. He had taken so much happiness from me. I could take some of his, even though I could not let him know and he probably would never know. I did not care. I was never going to need to deal with him again, never. So, I thought. It was over, all my agony would end now. It was finally over.

Unwanted second chances

My eyelids slowly opened and adjusted to the light. I could feel my leg muscles slowly waking up. I regained the control over my movements. With time I could feel the weakness fade away and my body slowly reclaiming strength. I woke up, it did not feel different from other times I woke up. Maybe I was just a bit more in pain than normal. I was in some room. It was cool and it smelled really clean, like disinfectant. But I was petrified. This place gave me a weird vibe. This was not heaven. Wait, didn’t I just die? It could not be hell. I wondered if this is how it felt after you died, I could not feel like this. I don’t think it should feel this normal. Death should be something you have never experienced before. But I felt like I was waking up to a normal day. I sat up and stared at the light blue wall. I turned my head and looked through a window. On a door in the distance, I read ‘North Psychiatric Institution’ written in big bold yellow letters. What had happened? Why didn’t he kill me? Did he know I was enjoying my ‘death’? Who was this person I called Mike? How well did he know me? Was he afraid to lose me, for whatever reason or did he want me to have a nightmare life without an end? Maybe all of this was just a bad dream I was going to wake up from any moment. I could at least hope. But nothing made sense. The questions were running through my head like a waterfall. They would not stop. When I turned my head further, I saw him lying next to me. His arms and legs were tied down to a small bed. My mouth fell open and I got a weird feeling. We were both in a psychiatry. And I was not even close to being a hero. Who was I? My thoughts in my head were twisting and turning in all possible directions. Nothing was making sense anymore. I was so confused. I am literally a confusion. I was not even sure if this was all real or it was just a dream. I felt someone pinching my shoulder. I turned to see who it was. After me awkwardly staring in their eyes I realized it was a nurse who had come into the room without me even noticing her. She was wearing a white cote and white pants and those weird white crock kind of shoes. After she acknowledged that she had gotten my attention she gave me a huge friendly smile. Her face was a bit tanned which contrasted her very white outfit.

‘How are you feeling?’, she asked.

Without even thinking I just answered; ‘ok.’

But I was not feeling ok, ok. I was feeling the opposite of ok. Was it ok not to be feeling ok? What does it mean to be ok? Before I lost myself even more in my thoughts, which happens very frequently the nurse said, ‘That’s good to hear. My name is Allyssa, and I will be taking care of you.’

So, wait a second, was I that unstable that I needed an ‘Allyssa’ to take care of me? All I wanted was to get out of this place. I did not want to be here. Like why would I? Mike was here, I apparently needed care, it was unfamiliar, and I didn’t even have enough room to think about anymore good arguments.

‘Would you like to tell me your name?’, Allyssa continued.

‘I am Mia David, and what on earth am I doing here? I don’t want to be here’, I replied in a very loud, irritated voice. I was mad. I did not want to be here. Better dead than here.

I think Allyssa heard my anger. I guess her strokes along my back should have been soothing or something like that. But they weren’t, I did not like it when people touched me. ‘Stop you bitch!’, I yelled.

Allyssa was clearly shocked and immediately pulled her hand away and said, ‘Frist of all, you are here as a patient and cannot leave till you are in a stable condition. Second, you have no right to be mean to me or the other nurses, cause all they want to do is help you by doing their job. And last but not least maybe you don’t want to be here now but trust me being here will help you in the future. I am used to dealing with people like you.’ Like me, what was that supposed to mean? I was not mental, I was perfectly fine. Better I would be if they just let me get out of this horrendous place. I felt like I was being treated like a child.

Alyssa continued her speech. ‘In one hour, you have an appointment with our trauma doctor. Till then I will show you around the facilities and explain all the rules to you. So, could you please follow me?’

I stood up to follow this bitchy nurse. Although most people would have preserved her as kind and friendly to me she wasn’t. I already did not like her. I was not going to like anyone here.

‘What about Mike?’ I yelled.

I was so mad, I just did not understand what was happening and I wanted to so badly. I had thought that everything was over that I never would need to suffer again but it wasn’t. The situation was maybe even worse than before. Insult added to injury, as my mom would have said.

Allyssa answered, ‘Oh, he is in a very critical condition. I am not allowed to unstrap him before he calms down. Because otherwise he could become violent with the other patients again. And we don’t want that do we? Normally violent and aggressive patients are put into single rooms where the doors are locked at all times. Unfortunately, those rooms are all full at the moment and the only vacant bed was the one in your room. And since you two know each other, we thought it would be nice for both of you to have some company.’

Without hesitation I roared; ‘Mike is not welcome company.’

‘I think we will start with the rules before I show you around. Because you just broke one for the second time. There is no shouting allowed. Please try to keep your voice down’

I lost her after that rule. My mind was too occupied to be actually listening to her. I just did not understand. We walked out of the small room where Mike was still strapped to the bed. Apart from the door with the small window there was a mirror with a little sink under it that I had not noticed before. Beside each bed little tables with lamps were placed. I also noted that someone had drawn cigarettes on the wall or something that resembled a cigarette, as me and Alyssa exited the room through the door which was right beside the sink.

She said, ‘On your left you can see the bathrooms and showers which you will be able to use between eight and nine o’clock. You’re not allowed to use the showers or toilets further down the hall, they are only for our male patients.’

I was so tempted to ask: What if I am Transgender, which shower can I use. But I held back. I continued following her. She showed me the different sections of the psychiatry. Every section had two bathrooms, one for the female patients and one for the male patients. Moreover, every section had a doctor’s office and a room for the nurses. Apparently, every section was for a certain kind of mental illness or disorder or whatever. Me and Mike had landed in the section for patients who had experienced traumatizing events. Allyssa had explained a lot of rules: I was not allowed to yell, run nor talk to other patients in the hallways. Neither was I allowed to be in the other sections without a nurse or doctor by my side. There were also set times when I was allowed to be somewhere and what I was allowed to do in that time. I was not too bothered by the rules. if I broke them maybe I would be kicked out and that would be a good thing in my opinion.

Finally, we had seen all the sections and Allyssa showed me the big canteen where all meals where served. It smelled like someone was making fresh bread. Gosh, how I could go for a nice warm slice of bread right now. Outside of the cafeteria there was a big park with benches and trees. Allyssa had told me that I could be outside without a nurse or a doctor as soon as I started to become more stable. Overall, the psychiatry hospital had really nice facilities. But that did not change my opinion. I still did not wanna be here. There was no need for me to be here. I continued following Allyssa across the grounds of the psychiatry till we got back to Mike’s and my room. As we entered the small room, I saw that Mike was no longer inside, no longer was he strapped down to the bed. I was relieved that we had finally finished walking around, my leg was exhausted, and my shoulders were aching due to the crutches I had been using. Allyssa told me to change into white track pants and a white polo shirt which had been placed on my bed and wait for someone to bring me to the doctor’s office. I took off my plain jeans and basic t-shirt, which was full of holes and stains due to acid that I used to make certain hair dies, well and also all the other chemicals. Allyssa gestured me to place my clothes in a bucket she was holding towards me.

‘You will get them back when you have recovered and leave,’ she said.

At this point I did not care what was happening to my torn clothes. They were trash anyhow. The track pants were fine, but the shirt was ass weird. Like it did not fit properly nor was it comfortable. It also made me look like I had a huge upper body which was not the case. A little bit later a doctor, who called himself Dr. Splean, came in.

‘Please follow me into my office,’ Splean said in a doctosrish voice. Why was he like this, he clearly thought he was superior to human kind.

I stood up and followed him down the hall. His office was furnished with an examination table, a desk and three chairs as well as a few cupboards and a sink. I sat my fat ass on the comfy chair beside his desk. I just did not get why I was here? How had this all happened? Since when did someone just wake up in a psychiatry hospital?

The doctor sat across from me and started staring at me as if he did not know what to do. After what felt like an eternity he asked; ‘So do you remember anything that happened last night?’

Wait, what was last night? I could remember being at the police office but was that yesterday or was that a long time ago? How the hell should I be capable of knowing that? I had not even questioned how I had gotten to the psychiatric hospital yet. How had I not thought of that yet? Like, had they just picked me up on the street and thought this lady looks mental, let’s stick her in a mental institution? I just did not understand. It was like I was a doll that someone was playing with. I don’t understand. Usually, I would blame Mike for stuff like this, but since he was in here with me probably didn’t bring me here. Or did he? He was so unpredictable. I just wanted to wake and realise its all a dream.

‘What day was it yesterday?’ I asked.

Dr. Splean answered, ‘The 16thof July.’

Well, I guess I should have expected that. How on earth was a number going to help me figure out if yesterday was the yesterday, I thought it was?

So, I simply replied, ‘Not really, can you tell me what happened?’

He frowned and started babbling. ‘So, we don’t know exactly either, but you and a young man were found in an alleyway both lying on the pavement. Beside you there was a pool of blood in which a dead body of an about 80-year-old lady lay. You and the young man were rushed to the hospital, thankfully you only just had some traces of GHB (4-Hydroxybutanoic acid) in your blood. After your check-up was finished at the hospital you were brought here to recover. The police are running investigations and think that you and Mike were witnesses to a murder. That is why you are here, because we think you are suffering a trauma and have lost your memory due to that traumatic event.’

So yesterday was the yesterday I thought it was.

‘How long will I have to stay here?’, l asked.

He answered exactly as I expected, ‘Until you are in a stable mental condition.’

This guy frustrated me; ‘What is a stable mental condition and how can I be traumatized by something I apparently don’t remember? And when will I be in a stable condition?’

‘When you are. Some patients take longer than others. It is just like that; you would not understand more details, you are not a doctor. You just have to accept it the way it is,’ he replied.