Her (32 page)

Finally! I thought to myself.

“That is one of the things I wanted to discuss with you today,” Dr. Pelchat told her. “Dr. Cuvo is no longer a part of our staff. His contract with us has ended. I am Kristen’s doctor now. I meet with her every day, just as Dr. Cuvo did. I will prescribe and monitor her medications. First, I have ordered a psychological test for Kristen so that I can give her a proper diagnosis.  Then I will be able to prescribe the right kind of medications that will help her. I don’t want to just put her on something and hope that it works. I would really like her to get the right help so that she can recover and leave Bent Creek, and hopefully not have to come back here for in-patient treatment again.”

“I would like that, too,” Mom said.

“Kristen has been doing very well in her meetings with me, and with her groups and the counselors. The transition from her treatment with Dr. Cuvo to me has progressed well. Transitioning can be a bit difficult for most patients because they form trusting relationships with their doctors, and this trust takes time to build. I want all of us - you, me and Kristen - to be able to work together at some point in opening the communication up between the two of you, and eventually in a family meeting that will include Kristen’s siblings.”

My heart jumped.

Dr. Pelchat continued, “Because once you are out of here, Kristen, you may only see me once a week for out-patient treatment. You will need to be able to open up to your mother.”

“And you,” he said, turning to Mom again, “should be able to be there for her when she needs to come to you. Kristen is not in a normal situation. If she were, she wouldn’t be here. Right?”

“Yes, well,” Mom began. “I hope we can do
something
to help her. Why do you have to give her a test? Is it for any particular mental health disorder or illness?”

Without hesitation, Dr. Pelchat said, “I’m going to test her for Borderline Personality Disorder.”

“What is Borderline Personality Disorder? Is it some kind of disease?” Mom asked.

“It’s not a disease. It’s not something that you can catch, like a cold,” Dr. Pelchat said with a little aggravation in his tone. “BPD has to do with emotional irregularities, meaning that something that may affect you and me, in what would be considered a normal way, might not necessarily effect a person with BPD in that way. The emotion becomes so much more intense than it should be, or we could see a major
lack
of emotion compared to what is considered normal. BPD is a complicated and sensitive disorder that requires treatment, and patients need careful monitoring of medication. That is why I want to give Kristen this test so that I can properly diagnose her and give her the right treatment.”

Mom sighed and shook her head in disbelief. She said, “How did this happen? How did she get this Borderline Personality Disorder?”

“Honestly, right now I can’t pinpoint exactly what caused it in Kristen. If the test shows that she should be diagnosed with BPD, then I will find out why so that we can conquer it. But most studies have shown that BPD usually develops around her age, and it is common in women who have suffered abuse as a child, and also patients who have parents who have the disorder.”

When Mom heard that, she gasped and sat back in the chair. She shook her head.

“I see,” Mom said. “Well, you know, Kristen seems to have so many problems. I mean, look at her arms! You see how she started cutting herself up and doing all of these self-destructive things. I want her to get some kind of help that will make her stop this. I feel like it’s my fault because she doesn’t talk to me. She’s mad at me or something. That’s why she did this!” She gestured to my wrists.

I hid my wrists in my lap and looked down, trying to hold back tears. I hated when she blamed herself for the mess I caused. She probably didn’t really feel like it was her fault, but she sounded convincing. She wanted Dr. Pelchat to feel sorry for her and see what she had to go through and deal with. What she had to deal with was me. Her problem child. Her disturbed and sick daughter. The daughter that should have been dead weeks ago.

Mom went on. “And my son. He watches everything Kristen does. He looks up to her. I’m sure she’s told you what happened to our family, and what happened to my son, Nicholas.”

“Mom, no, please,” I said. I couldn’t hold my tears back any longer.

“Nicholas and Alison are my two youngest children. They are twins. Nicholas was molested by my husband, Jack. Jack’s not Kristen’s father. He’s the twins’ father.”

I reached out and tried to grab my mother’s arm, and I begged her to stop, but she grabbed my hand and squeezed affectionately, which made my tears come out even harder. Listening to Mom talk about our family was heart-wrenching. The metal ball turned in my chest so hard that I felt as though my heart was going to explode. I wanted her to stop it, but she only made it worse.

“No one knew what was going on. But when everything was brought out into the open, and my husband was locked up, the judge ordered that I send Nicholas to a doctor for counseling. It has helped him so much. I wish that I had thought to get Kristen into counseling as well, because then we probably wouldn’t even be here. Nicholas would never try anything like this. But if he sees his big sister, whom he looks up to so much, doing this, then I’m afraid that he’s going to get all kinds of thoughts in his head.”

No, I thought. Not Nick. He knows that he has people who are there for him. He was the one who was hurt. He was the one who needed counseling after what had happened to him. Not me.

Why was I behaving this way? Why did I feel this way? Why did I want to die? Sitting inside that office, listening to Mom spill all of our secrets, I was reminded of that feeling that I had felt weeks before, when I had picked up the bottle of pills and had washed as many down as I could before I’d started feeling nauseated. I’d stood over the bathroom sink with Nick’s face fresh in my mind.

One pill for Nick. Another pill for each tear Nick had shed while Jack had thrust his disgusting genitals inside of him. I had a hard time swallowing those pills down because of the fear that rose up inside me from knowing what I was about to do. The bitter taste and chalkiness of the pills made me sick. I finally chewed and swallowed the pills down, along with the fear. “This has to be done”, I told myself. Then I started over.

One pill for losing my Daddy. Two pills for me standing there and watching everything happen. Three pills for not screaming. Four pills for not moving. Five pills for finally having the proof and not running to the phone right away. Six pills for my stupid mouth dropping wide open and not making a sound. Seven pills for knowing what was going on all along. Eight pills for not doing a damn thing about it. Nine pills for crying about it every night since that day, and not being able to sleep. Ten pills for hating Lexus and John.  After ten pills, I tilted my head back and emptied the rest of the bottle into my throat. I choked and chewed those chalky pills down. I thought that last one was for Nick. 

As I felt myself fading away after taking the pills, I saw clearly in my mind the day everything fell apart. The day Nick was sick and had to stay home from school. The day Mom asked me to stay with him, but I told her that I had to go to school because I was too concerned about a stupid test that I didn’t want to miss. When the truth was, I didn't want to be home in that horrible house full of monsters. I could feel it every day and every night. Besides, Nick was old enough to stay home from school by himself for a few hours. He could take care of himself until three o’clock, when Alison and I got home from school. Being stupid and selfish, I went to school, and there wasn't any test. I convinced Mom, though, and she finally agreed that Nick would be all right.

I didn't expect to see Jack’s truck in the yard when the school bus brought me home from school. He usually didn’t get home from work until a little before Mom got home from work. Alison and I should have gotten home first. When I went to unlock the front door, I saw that the door was already slightly open. I pushed the door open quietly and entered the house. After I closed the door, I tried to stay quiet as I headed towards Nicholas’ bedroom.

As I moved closer, I heard strange noises--smothered cries, hard grunting, and growling, like an angry dog. The noises grew louder as I got closer to Nick’s bedroom door. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest when I heard those smothered cries. Nicky was crying. He was hurt. Naturally, I rushed over to his door, but before I could put my hand on the doorknob and push the door open, I was stunned and paralyzed by what I could see through the crack.

“Nick!” I screamed.

I thought I screamed. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t do anything but watch Jack push himself into Nick while he buried Nick’s head in the pillow, face down. Nick was smothering in his own tears and the pillow. Jack pushed and pushed. With each push, Nick screamed and cried harder. He couldn’t breathe! His face was in the pillow to smother his cries.

I heard him. I could have stopped him, but I didn't. I didn't stop Jack. Jack stopped himself when he came. He fell, exhausted, on top of Nick’s little body. Nick stopped screaming and laid limp, face-down, in the pillow. That’s when I moved. That’s when I screamed. That’s when I was sure that the demon had killed my little brother.

“Nick!” I screamed and screamed his name at the top of my lungs, afraid that he was dead.

When Jack heard me, he looked up. He saw me standing in the doorway, screaming and scared out of my mind. Jack jumped up from on top of Nick, and he pulled himself out of him.  His private parts were swinging everywhere. Frightened, I ran into the kitchen and picked up the phone. I didn't hear the phone ring, but when I picked up, Mom was on the line.

“Kristen?” she called out to me. “The phone didn’t even ring once. How did you know I was calling?”

“Mom,” I cried. “Mom, please come home! Mom, please!”

She heard the panic in my voice. “Kristen, I’m in the car right now. I’m right around the corner. I was just calling to let you know I was coming home early to bring Nick his medicine.”

“Kristen!” I then heard Jack yelling at me. He was stumbling down the hallway as he tried to put his clothes back on.

Afraid, I dropped the phone without even hanging up. Then I ran over quickly to the sink and grabbed Mom’s chef knife. I grabbed the biggest one that I knew would do the most damage.

At that moment, Alison came through the front door and called out to me. With the knife in hand I ran to the living room, to the front door, and Jack met me there. Alison stood at the door, seeing the knife in my hand. Jack didn't say a word, nor did he hesitate. He ran past me and pushed Alison out of his way, and then rushed out of the front door. Alison called out to her daddy and ran out after him. I followed her and grabbed her when we got outside so that she wouldn’t try to run too far after him. Jack ran down the street and then disappeared around the corner.

Alison snatched away from me angrily. She looked up at me, afraid.

“Why did Daddy run away? Why do you have a knife in your hand? Kristen, I’m scared.” She was only eight years old, but she’d known that something was wrong.

“Alison, everything is okay,” I told her. “Right now I need you to be a big girl for me.”

“But Kristen,” she whined.

“Please, Alison,” I pleaded. “I need you to go into your room and close the door. You know our favorite movie?”

“Yes,” she said. “Peter Pan.”

“That’s right,” I said. “Peter Pan, because you’ve got a crush on Peter, don’t you?”

I was trying to distract her and make her forget about what had just happened. I forced a convincing smile.

She giggled and nodded. “Peter’s cute, and he can fly.”

“Yes, he sure can! Tinkerbelle, too!”

Her innocent eyes began to sparkle, and she laughed. I knew that she was starting to become distracted. Her mind was on Peter Pan. She wasn’t worried about what had been going on. We walked back into the house and I moved her along towards her bedroom. As we walked by, I sat the knife down on an occasional table in the living room. I shoved Alison along so that she wouldn’t notice as we passed by.

She said, “I love Tinkerbelle.”

“Me too,” I told her. “So, I need you to go into your room and close your door. Like a big girl, I want you to put your Peter Pan movie in the DVD player, like I showed you before. You remember?”

She nodded with the same smile on her face.

“Okay. That’s my big girl. Can you go do that for me, right now?”

“I sure can,” she said as we went back into the house. “Are you and Nick going to watch Peter Pan with me?”

“Why don’t you go ahead and get it started?  I will go check on Nick. Remember, he’s sick. Stay in your room while I check on him. Don’t come out until I come in there to watch the movie with you.”

“Kristen, what if I have to go pee?”

“If you have to go pee, just yell out the door first,” I told her.

She looked up at me dubiously and tilted her head.

“Go ahead!” I forced while tickling her.

She laughed and struggled to get me to stop tickling her. I kept tickling until I saw that she was amused and not suspicious anymore. She then dropped her book bag on the floor and wiggled away from me, still laughing.