"Hey Taylor," He greeted, "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," I mumbled, "Don't worry - it happens a lot." I stirred my food around on the plate, "Now you can understand why I don't like eating." I stared at my plate and tried to will my stomach into accepting it as I took the first slow bite. "Sorry about waking you up."
"Nah, it's alright... It happens to the best of us."
I felt sick, but the Stripe pushed me on, "Eat, Taylor - Just a little bit more."
I drank my orange juice, and complained about my jumping stomach. I played with my little plastic cup of pills, and Angel turned to me as I swallowed them down.
"Hey, kid - How come you never mentioned your brother's death?"
"I..." I paused, "I just figured everyone knew. I didn't really want to bring it up - you know... like... draw attention to myself."
"Maybe you should talk about it." He said, "Maybe it'd get at what's eating you."
I stared at the boy, and saw someone who faltered and gave in to what was. He was so small, and so fragile, it was no surprise to me that he was frequently made someone's bitch. Sometimes, you have more clarity about everyone else than you do about yourself. I think he saw what I couldn't see, and I wanted so badly to ask him... to end the pain. But I was afraid I wouldn't listen.
So, I took his advice, and in group later that week I said:
"My brother died six months ago." Everyone stopped and stared. I continued, "I walked into my girlfriends house to find her dead in the bath tub last month. She committed suicide."
I glanced at Angel, who was giving me an encouraging smile. Tears were in my voice as I continued, "That's what the other night was about. That's why I'm here." There wasn't any response. I looked up and everyone was staring. I immediately wished I could take it back, and that I hadn't shared that information. "I... I just thought you might like to know."
They still stared, and eventually the boy who cut off his finger said, "Ah, so the mystery of our traumatized bulimic rock star is unveiled. Gentlemen," He motioned with a sweeping gesture, "I now invite Taylor to our group. It's about time you said something."
Everyone applauded and I blushed furiously. This was not helping things, I only felt more uncomfortable and sheepish. "That... That's more than I told my own brother." I said, impishly. It was a bit uncomfortable, but it became easier to talk when the truth was known. I told my doctor about my nightmares that afternoon, I wasn't quite ready to think about the details yet - but telling someone helped me feel a little bit lighter.
Panic and tears were not uncommon at night. Often I'd fall asleep to a boy crying down the hall - that's why my attack wasn't drawn into immediate attention of everyone who didn't hear it - things like that happened. A lot.
That night, I woke up at about three o'clock to Mike sobbing softly in the bed next to mine. I sat up and crawled out of my bed, and sat down beside him.
"Hey, what's up?" I asked, placing my hand on his shoulder.
"I can't sleep..." He said, "I'm such a fucking failure."
"What makes you think that?" I asked, "I don't think so."
"See..." He said, "I've never been good, I'm not like you. I don't have anything to lose... Why... Why... Why am I still alive?"
"Don't worry." I told him, trying to encourage him, "My mom always told me that everything happened for a reason. And... and that you wouldn't be here without a purpose or a mission. Maybe... maybe you just need to find that mission."
"It's easy for you to say," He spat.
I shook my head, "Yeah, you would think that, wouldn't you?"
He made a defeated sigh, then sat up in his bed, looking at me in the darkness, "How come I never hear you singing - anyway? Even the fucking janitors whistle and hum... and... You're Mr. Music and I haven't heard one note."
He still had some post-crying haziness in his voice - but his crying had stopped. I didn't know for how long. Mike was a bit moody, and he liked asking questions I didn't like answering. I hesitated, for lack of eloquence.
"Singing is painful." I eventually came up with. I didn't bother with my lies, what was it worth? More time in this shithole? "It reminds me of something so instilled in my life... Something ripped up. Cut. Murdered."
"Your brother?" He asked, sounding puzzled.
"The drum beat."
He hesitated, and again - "The girl?"
"Bjork. Hyper ballad."
"Stop talking in metaphors," He complained, "It's no wonder you're in a fucking asylum."
"That was her song." I said, "She sang it all of the time. I... I know it by heart because of her."
He lay back down and pulled his sheet over him, "Oh." He said, and I heard tears wavering in his voice again. "I'm hungry." He said, and began crying again. "I'm hungry... and lonely. This place is so... so cold."
"I'm lonely, too." I said, "Just get some sleep, and the feeling will pass."
"I want it to go away forever."
"Shh..." I said, "Just sleep. Sleep and it'll pass."
"I'm... I'm so hungry." He was starting to shake in his tears, and his cries were becoming desperate.
I continued to try and soothe him, "Shh... the feeling will pass. The feeling will pass." I remembered how my mother used to sing to me to calm me down when I cried. How my brothers carried on that tradition... and I was singing "Golden Slumbers." softly into his ear, without even realizing. My mother sang it to my younger siblings when they were sleepless and irritated many nights throughout my childhood and teen years. I remembered hearing it and falling asleep to it myself on tour buses miles and miles from home. The words were sweet on her lips, and made me forget that I was far away and yearning for home - my own bed, and pillow.
His crying had calmed considerably, and he was now breathing softly and sniffling. The hallway monitor walked in and turned on our lights, "Is everything all right in here?"
We both squinted our eyes in the light, and he sighed, "You need to get to sleep."
I crept over to my bed, embarrassed. "Sorry..." I pulled the sheets over my body, "I was just trying to make him feel better."
I got a stern look and the lights went out. Tears fell down my cheeks before I drifted off to sleep.