When I was eleven, I saw angels fighting in a stormy sky.
They didn’t have bird wings but smoky, wispy, magical wings that shimmered in all different colors of the rainbow. There were swords too, long ones that flashed in the sunlight. I didn’t understand at first. I thought they were lovely, dancing in the sky with other angels who had black shimmering wings. They swirled through the clouds, chasing each other like some mad, wild game. It was all very delightful until one of them fell from the sky and landed at my feet. Dead. That was the first time I saw the battling angels and not the last.
“Tevy?”
I jerked and glanced up from the floor to stare at Dr. Phalr.
Do you remember telling me that? When you first arrived, about the angels?”
Of course, I did. I wasn’t stupid or forgetful just … crazy. “Yes, Dr. Phalr.”
“You finished your new round of medicine, Tevy. Do you still believe in those angels?”
“No, Dr. Phalr.” I shook my head and a few locks of blonde hair fell to my face. They tickled my cheeks but it wasn’t like I could wipe them away. I clenched my fists to keep from freaking out about the straitjacket. I was still learning to fight the fear of being restrained.
It’s been three years without incident, Tevy. That’s wonderful progress.”
“Thank you, Dr. Phalr. I know now it was just in my head.
The angels aren’t real. It’s a result of PSTD from my parents’ accident.” I told the lies they wanted to hear. I’d do anything to get out of the freaking jacket. That feeling of being unable to move crippled me. I had to dig my nails into my palms to keep from struggling.
“Very good, Tevy.” Dr. Phalr wrote in his little notepad with his blue stripped pen and smiled with those overly large lips on his stupid, tiny face. “And you haven’t lashed out at the nurses since your last incident … a month ago. Excellent progress. I believe the jacket can come off.”
I had to control my breath to keep from having a reaction. The thought of moving again, scratching my nose, not sitting in bed trying to control the urge to scream. How does a freaking straitjacket even help anyone? Ever? “Thank you, Dr. Phalr.”
“Keep taking this new medication.” The one that didn’t help but made me so tired I often fell asleep sitting up. “We’ll revisit you in a few months. Ah, I see you’re turning seventeen soon. Perhaps you’ll celebrate with your release.”
“That’d be wonderful, Dr. Phalr.” Hold it together, just hold it together. I curled my toes inside my soft padded slippers. “Remove the restraints.” He spoke to the two guards waiting at the door. “Keep a close eye on her and we’ll increase her dosage by half.”
t’s coming off! With the guards’ help, I stood. I wanted to run to my room, or more like my cell, and get this damn thing off. I wore it for nearly a month since I had that altercation with a guard. Lesson learned. Lesson well freaking learned. I shuffled toward the door as the doctor continued to write in his notepad. With my ankles chained, I couldn’t even take normal steps.
“Oh, and Tevy?”
I stilled. “Yes, Dr. Phalr?”
“We’ll be canceling the water therapy and moving you out of the high-security ward.”
I swallowed hard to keep calm and gave my best smile. The nightmares from that place would last me a lifetime. That was the only good thing about those pills, they helped me sleep through the screams. The hall was long, filled with dark doors bolted shut from the outside. There were bars on the windows, just like in my room. The walls were off-white, padded so we wouldn’t hurt ourselves. I followed the guards, let them lead me and push me as they wanted. After all this time in the jacket, I discovered I was capable of ignoring a lot. When I was in the room, I closed my eyes and felt the tight strap of the jacket release. Oh, it felt so good to be able to lower my arms. They removed the jacket, roughly, then pushed me further into the room. I waited to hear the door slam shut and the lock click closed before opening my eyes. My shoulders were stiff, and my elbows too. I swung my arms around, scratching my nose and my running my fingers through my hair.
My happiness didn’t last long. I told the truth about those pills. They didn’t help. Out the window I saw them. Beyond the cloudy sky, in the shadows they flew. The angels were there, fighting again. I didn’t care if I was a crazy for seeing them. I couldn’t stand this place anymore. Showering with ten other girls, being locked in a room all day like some dangerous animal and having to open my mouth to show I swallowed my pills. I wasn’t staying in this damn place even if I had to lie with every breath I took. Even if I had to ignore the occasional angel battle that took place in the sky. I sat on the padded floor, willing them to go away. “They’re not real,” I whispered. Screams rang out down the hall and I covered my ears. “They’re not real.” I rocked slowly and looked anywhere but that window. And remembered ...
“Boys are so weird.” I watched as Dylan, the new boy next door, pet the frog he’d found.
“And totally gross.” Samantha, my best friend, scrunched up her nose. It always made her face look like it was pressed against a window. I never told her that though. “My mom says if you touch a frog you’ll get warts.”
“What are warts?” I asked, my gaze moving back to Dylan. He shrugged and gently cradled the big green frog in his hands. “Then he’ll be even uglier.” she continued.
“Sam! That’s mean.” I might only hang out with Dylan because he was my neighbor’s kid and my mom kind of made me, but that didn’t mean we had to be nasty. Dylan was new to town, just him and his father. He was eleven, like us. Dylan had long, black hair that flopped in his face, which it did all the time because he always looked down. He was also taller than me and so skinny I could probably pick him up.
“Tevy, he’s playing with a frog!” She huffed. “It’s gross and we shouldn’t be up in your treehouse with a boy. My mom said so.” Her mother said a lot of things and they usually made my parents mutter under their breaths. “Let’s go, Tevy. Paint our nails or try on each other’s clothes. I don’t want to sit in here with a weird boy and his warty frog.” Samantha crawled toward the lopsided tree house door and started down the ladder.
I glanced at Dylan, who hadn’t said a word. He kept petting that frog and looking at the floor. “Don’t listen to her. She gets grumpy when she’s hungry.” And everyone knew Samantha’s mom kept her on a strict diet. It seemed like Sam was always grumpy, um, hungry. “Dylan?” He looked up, and his soft brown eyes grabbed my attention. They were kind of pretty they were so light. I reached out and used one finger to pet his slimy frog. The creature sat there contently like it was a lap dog or a fat cat in the sun. “I think the frog is cute.”
Dylan finally smiled, small, and quickly looked back at the floor. “Thanks.”
“I’ll see you around.” I made sure to climb down the ladder slowly. Dad always warned me to be careful. As soon as I was in the house, I washed my hands so I didn’t get that wart thing Samantha talked about. Just in case she was right. We tried on clothes after that, for nearly an hour. It was fun. I didn’t have the fancy things she did but my mom had great shoes. I nearly fell down the stairs when I walked around in her beige high heels with thick straps around the ankle. I’d forgotten about Dylan and the frog. Samantha went back to being my best friend, making me laugh. We peeked at my mom’s makeup too. I tried a soft pink but Samantha went with deep red. It matched her shirt and made her brown hair stand out.
I didn’t know how precious those memories would be.
A few hours later, Sam left and I heard the jingle of keys in the door, but it wasn’t my parents. Aunt Jackie was my mom’s sister. She didn’t come around often. When she came in she could hardly look at me. I knew something was wrong but not what. She made me cookies of all things, like I was some kid. I was eleven years old and I wasn’t stupid. I kept asking where my parents were. When she finally told me, she started to cry. “They lost control of the car, Tevy,” she said, tucking dirty blonde hair behind her ear. Her eyes were red and it made the lines around her eyes more noticeable. I listened, but I didn’t hear. It was a lie. All lies. “Tevy, do you understand what I’m saying?”
I nodded but it was slow, the world suddenly glitched like one of my old computer games. Accident. In the car. My parents.
“They’re gone, Tevy.”
Gone? I knew what she meant but I couldn’t wrap my head around the word. Gone? Like forever? Dead? My parents. She hugged me, smelling strongly of sweet apple.
I’m so sorry.” Aunt Jackie said it over and over again. When she pulled back to look at me she took in a shaky breath. “Tevy? Honey?”
I felt … numb. The world around me had no sound. I walked away from my aunt who began crying again. Were they really gone? I don’t know where I was going, but I walked out the backdoor and stared at the tree house. My dad built it. He made that for my birthday last year. Dad liked to joke since he only had one kid and I was a girl that he had to at least give me a boy’s tree house. Then Mom slapped him in the back of the head and said girls have tree houses too. It was funny when they did stuff like that. Laugh. Smile. Dead. I climbed the ladder, stood at the top and stared at the four wooden walls. One was lopsided, leaving a gap where it met the floor boards. There were windows, which were just holes in the wall on each side, and a bench he made me. It was so small I barely fit. I told him that and he’d gotten a stuffed animal for the seat, a giant dog. It stared at me now, with black empty eyes. I didn’t know what happened, but I just got so angry. They left me. They died and left me. I grabbed the stuffed animal and shoved it out the window. Gripping the back of the bench, I slammed the thing against the wall. Over and over and over. It splintered and fell apart. My face was wet. I wiped at my cheeks, finding tears. I was crying. My parents were really gone. This wasn’t a nightmare. I fell where I stood, crying harder and louder. What would happen now? How did I live without them? Why did they leave me? I cried so hard that I gave myself a headache. It throbbed in my temples and a pain started above my right eye.
“Tevy?” Dylan’s shy voice made me curl up and cry harder.
He lost his mom too. Was I going to turn weird and have a pet frog now? “Go away!” I shouted and scooted to the back of the tree house. I buried my face in my hands. A moment later, Dylan sat next to me. He hugged me, and placed his frog in my lap. The thing sat there, sliming up my jeans and shooting its tongue at a nearby mosquito. I kept crying until I had nothing left in me. Then I laid my head on Dylan’s shoulder and pet his croaking frog. I knew my world was forever changed but I had no idea how much. Not until two days later, during the wake. I stared up into gray clouds from an approaching storm and saw the angels. I screamed and screamed until everyone gaped with me. But no one saw them! I tried to explain. They sat me down with water. What was water going to do! Then they started whispering. I heard, oh, I heard.
Poor girl’s gone crazy.”
“It’s trauma from losing both her parents.”
“This whole situation is so sad.”
Her aunt’s going to take her? I hope she’s ready for that mess.”
I saw the angels again and again. I told Samantha, but she wouldn’t talk to me again. I told my aunt and she took me to a therapist. The summer passed, and I kept seeing the men with the shimmering wings and swords. I explained everything I saw to anyone who would listen. My aunt yelled at me when I saw them above the grocery store in the clouds. Embarrassed, she was embarrassed. I was seeing freaking angels! Two weeks later, I was afraid to stare at the sky. Was Samantha right? Was I crazy? My aunt must have thought so.
I woke up one morning to men at the door. They wore strange white uniforms and my aunt started crying. I don’t know why she was upset. I lost my parents. I was the crazy one. I spent five long years here. Four walking the halls, eating with the weirdos in the cafeteria and dealing with the handsy nurses. One year in isolation and twenty-nine days in a straitjacket. I leaned not to tell the truth to anyone. Lies meant less drugs. I learned not to fight back with the nurses. They always hit first.
Most of all I learned to lie to everyone, including myself.