Chapter One

Z.

It's raining. I stare blankly at the drops of water racing sideways across the window, gathering on the edge in pools before spilling down or being swept away with the wind. The trees outside all meld together into one big blur of green and brown, that's all I've seen for the last hour. My mother has the heater on full blast, I try to turn it down but she swats my hand away.

"You know I don't like the cold." It's the first thing she's said the entire four hour drive.

"Fine." I lean into the door, pressing my cheek against the cool window and close my eyes. I hear my mother suck in her breath. I know she wants to say something, but I keep my eyes shut.

After what feels like ages, she finally sputters out, "I really didn't want it to come to this, but you've left me no other choice."

My eyes fly open, I feel the fire rising up inside of me but I clench my teeth and stay silent.

"You can get the help here that you need, it will be good for you. It will be good for all of us. There are doctors here that are specially trained to work with people like you. You'll meet lots of nice people, maybe there will be some girls your age you can be friends with while you're there. I'm sure everyone will be just absolutely lovely."

The anger boils up and I can't help it, "Absolutely lovely? What the hell do you think this place is? It's not some kind of vacation, it's a freaking psych ward! The only people there will be crazy! I'm not insane, you just want to get rid of me!"

"Zelda! I don't want to do this, I have to! This is a hospital for sick people like you! And I'm sure you will have a wonderful time, there are gardens and a swimming pool, I hear they go hiking when the weather is nice. There's group music sessions and art, the food is apparently sublime as well. The house is even a converted Victorian mansion." I block out her robotic voice as she lists off the other oh-so-fabulous points she memorized from the brochure.

Lovely, sublime. She wasn't always like this, I remember there was a time when she would have snickered at people who used those sorts of words. She smiled a lot more then too, and not the smiles she has now. The perfectly polished straight white teeth highlighted by her carefully painted red lips, a frozen Barbie doll smile to match her dead eyes and bottle blonde hair. Every so often, I do see a flicker of her old self, but it never lasts long. Besides, real smiles give you wrinkles, and mother's husband will be damned if any wife of his looks anything less than perfect.

She rambles on and on about what an exquisite/charming/splendid/simply delightful place it is. What a grand experience it will be/how much I will broaden my intellect/how I will experience different cultures. I'm sure. The only grand experience I will have is sitting in a padded room wrapped in a straight jacket. The freaks in this place will surely broaden my intellect with their wild tales of insanity as they drool and are hand fed by some high school dropout orderly who only took this job to feed his crack addiction. And I know I will definitely experience some new cultures when I can talk my way free and finally escape the control of my mother. Where will I go first? The east coast, I hear it's nice. Eventually I'll find my way out of the country. I'll just disappear. They'll never find me.

My mother buzzes on stupidly until we approach a rusted iron gate encased by a stone wall that's at least twelve feet high. Chains of electric barbed wires top the wall and metal poles stick up holding security cameras every few yards. As if anyone would be stupid enough to try to escape that way. These places are built for those types of desperate, impulsive actions. The sharp mind is the only thing that will save you here. And since my mother belongs here much more than I do, I know my stay here will be short.

My mother leans out the window, using one of her air-head beauty magazines to protect her perfectly coifed hair from the rain as she presses a tiny red button on an intercom, "Hello? Yes, I'm here to deliver my daughter, Zelda. They're expecting her."

"Yes, we will open the gates immediately. Please proceed up the road to our visitors parking lot. Thank you, ma'am." A static-y yet clearly bored voice instructs.

As the car rolls slowly forward, my mother tentatively reaches over and places her hand on my shoulder. I flinch and she quickly pulls away. She huffs a deep breath, but doesn't say anything. She parks next to a huge mansion, we sit in silence as we stare up at the "hospital" where I will be staying. I have to admit, it is pretty impressive. It looks to be straight out of a scary movie, one where a group of friends would go to spend the night in on a dare and then one by one they would each be slaughtered in some horrific, grisly way. Maybe one would have his stomach ripped out by steel hooks, another would be boiled alive in oil, her skin and flesh bubbling away as she screams for mercy. Then, just before sunrise it would be the main girl and her boyfriend left alive. You might think that they would escape a terrible fate and live happily ever after, but then it would turn out that the boyfriend was the killer all along. The last scene would be him whistling cheerfully as he strolled away from the mansion, the gutted remains of the others hidden neatly under the floorboards.

Finally, I open the door and step out as my mother pops the trunk. I drag out my suitcase and backpack and make my way up the pathway leading to the mansion. My mother clears her throat. I pause and turn around. She's standing at the end of the walk with an odd look on her face. My own face softens when I realize it's my mom. Not the pearl-wearing, cappuccino-drinking stranger I've been living with for the past six years, but my mom who laughed and hugged and loved me as much as I loved her. In that instant my walls come down and I feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

I step forward, longing to feel safe in her arms for a moment again, but then she opens her mouth, "Be good, they can fix you."

The love rushes out of my body as quickly as it came. My heart turns to ice and my face to stone.

"Fix this!" I shout hoarsely as I throw up my middle finger, then turn and stomp up the rest of the walk.

Dark, I know. But I hope you enjoyed anyway! Constructive criticism is always appreciated :)

Thanks for reading!