Chapter Seven Aria

Chapter Seven

Aria

I’d never been one for Tilt-A-Whirls. The way your head spun and your thoughts came in jumbled heaves. The way your stomach rose to your throat and sickness sloshed in your ears. Adrenaline thundering in your veins as everything whirled in quick, succinct flashes.

Maybe it felt too close to falling through the darkness. The jarring of emotions as I sped through the nothingness on my way to reach Faydor below.

The feeling of weightlessness and volatility.

Like I might split apart and cease to exist.

I’d never felt it as severely as when my father ripped open the door to the adolescent mental facility. There were four chairs on either side of the narrow waiting room and a counter with a sliding-glass window on the wall directly in front of us. Doors on each side of it led deeper into the bowels of the facility.

It wasn’t foreign.

I’d been here two times before.

But this?

Everything about it felt different. The way fear clotted my spirit and defiance writhed in my bones.

“You can’t do this,” I whimpered as he dragged me through the admissions entrance.

My mother trailed behind, her tears incessant, as endless as mine.

“I warned you I was finished the last time, Aria.” His voice was low and controlled but tinged with frustration. “We’ve spent years doing everything for you. You’re destroying your mother. You’re destroying yourself. You’re destroying this family. I’m not going to sit idle and watch it happen any longer.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I understand perfectly.”

Two orderlies stepped out from the door on the right side, and my throat bobbed as I swallowed and tried to rein in the chaos.

I wasn’t going to win any points if I appeared to be unhinged.

“I called earlier,” my father said. “I spoke with someone about my daughter, Aria Rialta.”

“Yes, of course. Right this way.” One swiped a card and the door buzzed. He held it open, and I was ushered into a room that was a larger waiting area than the one in front. Three small offices that served as intake rooms ran along the right wall, and there were three miniature holding rooms to the left.

I was led into the first holding room. The only thing inside were two plastic chairs, the walls bare and stark white.

“Sit, and don’t make me chase you again,” my father warned as if I were a small child.

He seemed completely blind.

Hardened.

And I wondered what had been fed into his mind. If he’d become cruel or if his intentions were pure.

I prayed for the latter.

Trying to keep it together, to reel in my tears, I sank onto a plastic chair. Still, I rocked as my parents were taken into one of the intake rooms and began to fill out the information with the help of a woman who sat on the opposite side of the desk.

Their hushed voices coiled through the suffocating air as she asked them questions.

Name and date of birth and a quick confirmation of past history.

But it was what my father pleaded to her that had me close to spiraling. “She turns eighteen in three days.” He issued it like a secret, as if he didn’t think I would hear. As if what he was implying wouldn’t pierce me like a knife. “We have to do something before it’s too late. We can’t just let her go.”

The woman reached across the desk and set her hand over his. Her mouth tipped up in a soft smile of reassurance. “Please don’t worry, Mr. and Mrs. Rialta. If Aria needs the help, we are going to get it for her, no matter her age. We can get a transfer to the adult unit if necessary. Her care is our greatest concern. You can rest assured in that.”

Panic split me in two.

A white-hot blade.

“No.” It wheezed from between my lips. “No. You can’t do this. I’m not a child. Let me go.”

I didn’t even realize I was on my feet and standing at the doorway. “Mom, you have to see. Look at me. Please, look at me!” Desperation bled into the words.

“Aria,” she begged when she turned around. Red splotches covered her cheeks and nose, her pain so great it nearly dropped me to my knees. “This is because I do see you.”

“No!” I raced back for the door they’d brought me through. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I was only making it worse. But I couldn’t ignore the voice in my head that shouted at me to fight.

Somewhere inside me, I knew this was different.

The other two times I’d been left here had been for less than a week.

This?

Their intentions rang out like a sentence.

Like permanence.

A gavel slamming down on a wooden block.

I yanked at the handle. It didn’t budge.

I pulled harder, again and again. My movements were frenzied as I slapped my palms against the metal. “Please, someone let me out of here! You can’t do this to me! Help!”

Footsteps pounded behind me, and a needle pierced my flesh.

“No!”

Pax.

Pax.

My brain silently shouted his name.

Willing him to come.

To help me.

To save me.

But it was useless.

Useless.

“It’s okay, we have you. This will help you relax.”

I could feel the detachment run through my veins, and a fuzziness began to cloud my mind.

Two orderlies took me by the arms and turned me around.

Through the haze, I met my mother’s agonized stare.

“Help me,” I begged, though the words were slurred.

Tears blinked from her eyes. “I’m trying to.”

I slipped along the edge of consciousness. Everything felt both too heavy and too light.

My breaths were shallow, the walls of the small room where I’d been taken closing in. The space barely large enough to contain the two twin beds.

Again, I’d been told that everything would be just fine.

How I knew it wouldn’t be, I wasn’t sure, but I did.

Maybe that’s why I couldn’t fully slip into sleep, why a scream lay idle on my lips, silenced by the weight sitting on my chest.

My legs and arms felt unnaturally weak. A counterfeit, false peace that pinned me to the hard mattress.

But my insides were twisted. My gut tangled and stretched tight.

Losing it earlier was likely the most detrimental thing I could have done, but I hadn’t been able to stop the onslaught of despair.

Knowing if I didn’t, I would wind up here.

I guessed a deep-seated fear had been borne of this place the first time I’d been committed.

Taking in a steeling breath, I released it with a whisper of his name. “Pax, I need you. I need you so much.”

Never more than right then.

I jerked up when a light tapping came from the door, and it was opened before I had a chance to reply.

“Aria?” A woman wearing wire-rimmed glasses and a docile smile on her face peeked inside, her brown hair twisted in a high bun.

“Yes?”

Pushing the rest of the way inside, she angled her head as she approached. “I’m Dr. Perry.”

She had on blue tailored slacks and a floral blouse, her heels short and as smart as her brown eyes.

Fighting the exhaustion, I forced myself to sitting and leaned against the cold brick wall.

A chair screeched as it was dragged across the floor, and she settled onto it. She situated a tablet on her lap, crossing her legs as she tapped into what she was looking for.

Nerves rattled when I realized she was studying my records. She scrolled for what felt like forever, although probably mere minutes had passed.

Finally, she returned her gaze to me. “I want you to know you can tell me anything, Aria. This is a safe place, and I’m here to help you.”

I could feel it radiate from her pores.

Sincerity.

Goodness.

The desire to make a difference.

I nodded, knowing petulance would get me nowhere. She would dig until she was satisfied I was telling the truth, and I knew I’d have to give her exactly what she wanted to hear.

Manipulating the system that way sucked, especially when I believed in it. Believed in the devotion of people like Dr. Perry.

They just couldn’t help me—not when I’d been created to help them.

“Okay,” I mumbled, my tongue still not fully cooperating.

“May I ask you a couple questions?” she asked as she glanced at her screen.

Worry blistered and blew, and I fidgeted with my fingers as I drew my knees to my chest. “Sure.”

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Aria Rialta.” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard, trying to clear the residual of my breakdown from earlier.

“Date of birth?”

“February 24, 2005.” I failed at keeping the resentful bite from the words.

I’d only had to make it three days.

Three days.

And here I was.

She seemed to sense where my thoughts had gone, and she sighed as she shifted forward and pulled her glasses from her face. “This isn’t about taking your freedom away, Aria. This is about helping you get well so you can live a happy and productive life.”

I dropped my eyes and stared at the thin blue bedspread beneath me. How was I supposed to respond to that?

“Your parents are really worried about you,” she continued. “The only thing they want is to help you.”

A frown came unbidden. She had no idea how much I loved my family. How badly I didn’t want to hurt them. How I hated dragging them through their misconception of who I was.

“I know that.”

“Yet you fight them.”

Inhaling a shaky breath, I sagged against the wall.

I was so tired of it.

The fighting.

The fear.

She resituated her glasses on her nose. “Why don’t we let you rest this evening since you’ve had a stressful day—but tomorrow I want you to participate.” Standing, she stared down at me. “Deal?”

My nod was tight. “Deal.”

At least then I’d have some time to figure out what to say to get free of this.

“You’re going to thrive, Aria Rialta. You’ll see.”

Her heels clicked on the linoleum floor as she moved to the door, and she smiled back at me from the threshold. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.”