{AVERY}
"I can see the Judge ordered a psych evaluation which was done a few weeks ago. Did the psychiatrist go over the results with you?"
I blink slowly at the man, his pearly white teeth looking so unnatural. And who wears a formal suit to patient appointments like this? He reminds me of Margaret - trying to overcompensate for his age by dressing up. Maybe they should hook up and have cute little perfect babies with short bobs and tuxedos.
"She did," I reply, short.
He nods. "And how do you feel about that?"
I swear if one more person asks me how I feel, I'm going to go insane — if I'm not already there.
My eyes drift to his name plate on the desk, the letters so shiny, it's obvious he's a newbie as well - Dr. Christopher Smith—Psychiatrist.
"It is what it is."
Dr. Smith crosses one of his legs over his opposite knee, tapping his jawline. "The report covered some comprehensive information about your childhood. In any event, it's not surprising that you have been diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Is that what led to the events that brought you here?"
I don't answer him. I know he's trying to do his job but I've already been asked this a million times — by police officers, social workers, my attorney. No one knows the full story and that's the way it's going to stay.
"What events?" I ask, deflecting. "My father's death? My incarceration? My imprisonment here at this prestigious facility?"
My tone drips with sarcasm, but he pays no mind to it. He looks down at the report in his hand, tapping away.
"What about your mother? Do you want to talk about her?"
I sigh. "How often are these sessions required during my stay here?"
Dr. Smith smiles politely. "Three times a week until your release."
I cross my legs and lean back. "Well, best we just take our time then. Seems like we have a long road ahead of us. We need to make sure we have plenty to talk about in the future since I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."
***
"This hall is where you have your meals. The times are written in your handbook. If you don't eat, then you wait until the next meal. Snacks are forbidden in the rooms."
My eyes narrow at the blonde haired girl, who looks to be around the same age as me. She's bored, reciting everything so perfectly like she's done it a hundred times before.
"Do you work here?" I ask accusingly.
She snorts. "No. I'm just like you. I've been assigned this job for six months. Orientation support, they called it."
"Sounds like a load of shit," I mutter.
Her piercing green eyes hover on my face for a moment, as if she's trying to figure me out. Well, good luck with that.
"It is," she confirms. "But it goes towards good behavior. I might be released next year because of it."
"Yippee."
She rolls her eyes, pointing her finger to another door opposite the hall. "That's the library in there. It's open during our free time, though I can't imagine anything worse. It stinks in there like something died five years ago."
"Probably did. One of us, I imagine," I say.
Her lips twitch slightly in amusement. "The only people that generally bother hanging out in there are a few girls who try to study for bonus points, and some group of guys."
"And they just let boys and girls mingle?"
A devious glint appears in her eyes and I realize that perhaps it's not as proper and fancy here behind the scenes as they made it out to be. "Sure. Just as long as everyone behaves. Last year two students got caught fucking in the library. They banned our
free time for a week as punishment. If someone fucks up, we all get punished. It's a way to keep us in check."
"Not surprising. They seem to have a chip on their shoulder-"
"Vivian! I see you're showing Avery around." We both turn around, spotting Mr. Whittingham standing behind us. Judging by the less than amused look on his face, he overheard our conversation.
"I am," Vivian confirms. "Not that I had a choice."
He ignores her, stepping towards me. "And I trust your appointment with Dr. Smith went well?"
I wrinkle my nose up at his words before I can stop myself. "Sure."
"Good," he replies curtly. "You will start classes tomorrow. Carry on."
The two of us watch him walk away, and when he's out of sight, we both let out a laugh.
"God, is he always that insufferable?" I ask Vivian.
She nods. "Yeah. You get used to it though. It's like black and white here — yin and yang. The facility staff all have sticks up their asses and the students... prisoners... whatever you want to call us, are reckless. Most here have some type of mental illness, thus the psychiatrists and guards on hand."
"I assumed so," I answer, following her into the hall. "Apparently, mental illness is the only thing that stopped me from going
to real prison. Though, the jury is still out as to whether this was the better alternative."
Vivian pauses by the empty food stations. "It's not too bad. We get some benefits that you wouldn't get in prison. Plus, if we
pass the facility and get released, our convictions become sealed. Or at least, that's what they tell us."
I hear footsteps behind me and I turn around to spot a fiery redhead staring at me. She's about my height - 5'9" - with dark blue eyes and a curvy frame.
"Who are you?" she asks me abruptly.
I raise an eyebrow at her hostility, wondering why it's even a surprise that there could possibly be a new student.
"This is Avery," Vivian answers for me. "Just arrived today. Avery, this is Siobhan. She's in the room next to mine."
Siobhan grimaces at me, looking me up and down. Slowly, she appears to decide I'm okay and holds out her hand. I shake it quickly, not keen to ruffle feathers so early on in my arrival, before dropping my arm back to my side.
"What did you do?"
"Seriously? Are you allowed to just ask that?" I ask.
Siobhan shrugs. "I don't give a shit whether you tell me or not. Just curious."
"Curiosity killed the cat," I murmur.
She nods. "Well?"
"Lucky you're not a cat then."
Her eyes flare up slightly as Vivian sighs, grabbing Siobhan's arm and pulling her to the side. She whispers something heatedly at her before Siobhan throws a glare at me, stomping away.
"Don't worry about her," Vivian says dryly. "She just found out her brother committed suicide on the outside. She's not doing all that great. Her family is really messed up."
"I thought she was going to punch me or something," I grumble, watching as kitchen staff walk past us, unfazed.
"Nah, she's fine. She's bipolar so you just have to roll with her moods and take her as she is. She was on track for release but her brother's death sent her mental health into a spiral so that's long gone."
I look around the room, spotting a few lingering students. "I thought free time wasn't until the afternoons."
Vivian follows my gaze. "They assign us jobs, like mine. We all just tend to keep to ourselves though."
"Wouldn't it be hostile? Sticking unhinged, hormonal, mentally unstable people in a facility together?"
"Oh, yeah," she agrees. "People get physical all the time. There's cameras everywhere. Don't be fooled, the guards will swarm in quickly if shit hits the fan. But, there's consequences like I said. Plus, they make you do extra psych sessions and shit."
I let out an annoyed groan. "Fuck that. It's already bad enough that they are trying to get me to talk about my feelings."
Vivian motions for me to follow her out of the hall. "Eh, you get used to it. I just tell them what they want to hear. I'll show you the courtyard." We round the corner, heading towards a line of windows and a set of double doors when a body comes flying between us.
Vivian manages to launch herself out of the way in time, but I get smacked into the wall. I turn around, glaring at the back as the person keeps walking. He turns his head to peer over his shoulder, his obsidian eyes glaring at me.
"Watch where the fuck you're going," he spits out. before turning away and stalking down the corridor.
"What the fuck is his problem?" I say loudly.
Vivian watches his retreating form. "That's Theo. Ignore him — he's a psycho. He barely socializes with anyone. He's probably just pissed to be on extra work duty."
His black hair and tall frame vanish from view and I shake my head, continuing on. "Whatever. I'm used to dealing with angry lunatics."
"He's bad news," Vivian says, opening the double doors to the courtyard. "He put someone in the hospital three weeks ago. Broke his nose and eye socket. There's not enough anger management classes in the world to fix him. He's been given extra work as punishment."
"Great," I mutter, looking around at the courtyard. Its square form is in the center of the building, the sun shining down onto the neatly trimmed grass. The walls surrounding it are cobblestone, covered in vines. It's a strange contrast to the front of the building, and as usual, there's more fucking flowers.
Benches line the courtyard in front of the walls. It's a decent size, maybe half a football field in length. I spot some cameras in the corners, perfectly positioned to get a view of the entire area.
"This is one of the areas we can utilize in our free time, particularly when it's a nice day like today. If it's raining, there's a few common areas inside but they get crowded pretty fast. Unfortunately, during free time, you're not allowed back in your room."
"How many people are here?" I ask. "The welcoming brochure didn't say."
Vivian thinks for a moment. "Around a hundred I think. That's capacity. I believe they have an equal number of places for men and women."
"And people get a spot if someone is released?"
She nods casually. "Or dies."
I pause, looking at her incredulously. She raises an eyebrow at me, shrugging.
"Well, that's how you got here. I suppose they wouldn't have told you that. But it's not often that space becomes available. Lucky for you, someone did die."
I shake my head. There's that word again - lucky.
For some reason, my journey keeps moving with the death of other people. And yet, apparently I'm lucky for it. People have a fucked up way of looking at prospective.
I guess we're all a bit fucked up though.