Of all the ages....

mood: contemplative

music: 'Alive With the Glory of Love' - Say Anything

I went through some edits and cleaning up. You may want to re-read.

Thanks for noticing.

Ènervè.

mood: sore

music: "Grow Up"- Simple PLan

            “Amy, could you come with me please?” asked the persistent nurse. Amy immediately despised her perkiness.

            “Like I have a choice….” She grumbled, getting up and walking to the door. She made a point of letting her hair fall back in her face.

            Finding herself abandoned, Amy began failing out of her 9^th grade classes. Her taste in music became more and more unbearable to those around her. One night, out of anger, she threw a punch at the side of her ceiling-high bookcase. A picture frame came smashing down. Amy flipped it over to retrieve the glass as to cut again, but froze. Surrounded by shards was a picture taken on the day her father bought Glacial for her. Amy collapsed onto the floor; her eyes darting between herself, her father, and her beautiful Glacial. The she turned her head to see her full-length mirror. The girl staring back was so cold and empty now. Instead of sparkling like they did in the photo she now held, her eyes were terrifying. Tears began to stream silently form them as it hit her that she was the only one in that picture still breathing….

            The ward nurse led Amy down a hallway lined with picture of police officers, firemen, EMTs, and other people that were to be considered “inspirational.”

            “My name’s Joanna, by the way.” Said the perky nurse walking beside her. “But you can call me Jojo, if you want to.”

            Amy nodded, only half pretending to care. “Not in a million years.” She thought to herself, trying to stay as far away from these people as possible.

            Joanna brought her through a large room in which was a few couches, tables, and chairs. A bookcase stood off to the side. “St. Peter’s Common Room” stated the sign on the door as well as a large, painted, colorful mural on the wall. There were a few people here and there. It was the first time Amy had seen others since she had arrived the day before. She craved to talk to one of them. But Joanna kept going.

            Through another door, down another hallway, they finally arrived at a room labeled “evaluation.” Amy raised an eyebrow. “This should be interesting.” She thought.

            “Here we are.” Joanna said cheerily, holding open the door as an invitation. What choice did she have? None, of course.

A woman sat at a desk at the far side of the room, shuffling papers. She was accompanied by a file cabinet, computer, copy machine, fax machine, and a few things that Amy couldn’t begin to guess the purpose of.

Joanna gestured forward as the door clicked softly behind them. A silent cue from Joanna told Ay to walk up to the desk. She complied. Upon her approach, the woman at the computer looked up.

“Hello Ambrosia!” she greeted her, almost as annoyingly as Joanna had. “I’m Gloria, and I’m here to answer your questions, as well as have you fill out these papers.
 Gloria smiled, gesturing at the stack of 10 or 12 papers on the desk.

“Great,” Amy sighed, already bored at the sight of them. “Just great.”

“Well, why don’t we start these papers first?” Gloria suggested; more of a command than an idea. And by “we,” Amy was sure she meant “you.”

“Sure.” Amy shrugged as she sank down into the chair and looked at the first paper in the pile. She noted that the bottom corner said “suicide/self-harm” in very small print. The first few pages were normal questions. Name, age, birthday, height, weight, school, address, et cetera. The she came to a peculiar question. “Do you have any habits?” It asked plainly, almost innocently.

“The hell with it.” Amy thought, and wrote what she knew they were looking for. “I like to bleed.” She scrawled, a wicked grin setting on her face.

A few days after finding the picture, Amy went to school as if it were a normal day, because so far, it was. By the time 4^th period rolled around, she couldn’t get the picture out of her mind. She had study hall next. She found a window seat in the 3^rd floor library and opened her books. Amy began staring out the window, her mind far off. As she looked around, she could almost see her father, waiting with Glacial, standing on the ground. Three stories below her. Her thoughts began racing. “The ground.” A voice in her head screamed, drowning out reason. “The ground.” She repeated in a whisper to herself. Amy looked down at the hard, solid pavement. Then she looked at the thin glass of the window. Not thinking twice, Amy stood up and stepped back from the window seat. “Why didn’t I think of this sooner?” She sighed to herself. Then she ran forward and crashed through the window with all the will left in her. The sound of breaking glass rang throughout the library.

            The papers asked some more normal questions; spots, pets, relationships. Amy left these three in particular blank. They no longer were a part of her. Finally, on the second to last page, a question came up that she had been expecting. “Are you happy with your life?” Amy couldn’t believe the question. She imagined it mocking her. “Of course not.” She wrote. “Why the fuck else would I have thrown myself out a window?”  

At long last, Amy was finished with the paperwork. Gloria sat up, ready for what might be coming. “Alright, any questions?” asked the too-happy secretary.

            Amy thought a minute on this. “Do you have any kids, Gloria? She asked nonchalantly.   

            Gloria was taken aback by this question concerning her personal life. But it was a part of her job to answer. “No, I don’t.” She answered truthfully.

            “I see.” Amy spat out, not meeting Gloria’s eyes. “Will I be able to talk to any of the other captives here?”

            “Captives” was a good word for those here. They didn’t choose to live here after all. Gloria chose her answer carefully. “Well yes, some of them.”

            “How come?”

            “It’s a rule.” Gloria responded, more or less implying that some people were in no condition to be social. “Anything else?”

            Amy shook her head, again allowing her hair over her eye.