The Brotherhood of Charles Chapter IV: Morning Group

Chapter IV: Morning Group

The common room was large, with a TV in one corner, some shelves at the right end with board games and a telephone, and many nice blue or red chairs scattered across the room. On the far end from the doorway and the adjacent wall to our left, there were windows. I could see the outside, and wished I could go there.

We pulled up some chairs and sat in a circle; I sat next to George. I was facing the TV, with the doorway back to the teenager ward to my left. Amy, Roy and someone I didn’t know were all there.

“First of all, let’s go around and say our names, our hobbies, how old we are and what we’re here for, if you’re comfortable with that,” said Amy. “I’ll start, and we’ll move counterclockwise.” She cleared her throat. “My name is Amy,” she said, “and I like writing poetry, drawing, riding horses and going to church. And I’m not comfortable saying how old I am.”

Ashley laughed first, and then the rest of us joined in.

“And I’m here to help all of you because I wanted to make a difference in the world,” she said.

The man to her right said, “I’m John. I can be a nice guy, but I can be mean if I need to be. I’m here because I was always interested in psychology, and I didn’t have anything better to do.”

Next was Ashley. “I’m Ashley Montana, and I like guys, meditation and the occult. As for why I’m here, well… I had this boyfriend, and he was always beating me. I didn’t want to break up with him, and I couldn’t stand another day with him, so I tried to commit suicide, and now I’m here. I’d like to thank Amy especially for helping me recover, I’m doing much better, and I really like it here now and don’t want to go home.”

Guy was next. “My name is Guy. I like martial arts, kickboxing and dirt biking. I’m here because I tried to kill Ashley’s boyfriend. She and I are close friends, I’ve always had a soft spot for her, and I was not going to let her try to kill herself again over some J-A. So after they took her off in an ambulance, I took out my switchblade and went to James’ house. I knocked on his door and told him to go get a knife because I was going to kill him and I was going to be fair about it. I don’t know what I was thinking. He got out his knife and we fought. He’s in ICU right now, and I’m in here pending charges for attempted murder. They want a psychological on me first. My parents want me to plead insanity.”

“If you could go back,” said Amy, “what would you do differently?”

Guy looked her in the eye and said, “I’d knock him senseless instead, and threaten him, or maybe call the police. But I wouldn’t try to kill him again. I realize now how stupid that was.”

“Guy, thank you for sharing,” said Roy, who was next. “As for me, I like wrestling, hunting, and watching the old idiot box. I worked my way through college, and I’m proud to be working at one of the best mental institutions in South Carolina.”

George went next. “I’m George, I don’t have any hobbies. I got kicked out of school for fighting bullies, and then I got kicked out of alternative school for fighting, too. They put me in here because I really don’t have anywhere to go. That’s all I know.”

“What can you do differently when you get out?” said Amy.

“I can ignore them or get a teacher to help.”

“Good. Josh?”

“I can stop beating myself up so much,” I said. It took a moment of group laughter for me to realize I had responded to the wrong question.

“Sorry,” I said, grinning despite the heaviness I felt in my heart. “I’m Josh Hammonds. I’m in here for cutting myself. I get really agitated, and really upset, and then it’s like if I don’t do something I’ll burst. I almost killed myself, but I’m the one that chose to come here, I had a choice, and I’m going to leave before a week’s up so I can go to prom.”

“You might need to stay here two weeks,” said John. He wore preppy clothes and had hair slicked back with gel. He currently wore a smirk on his face. It was in that moment that I fell to judgment and knew I did not like this guy.

“They promised me I could go out in a week,” I said. “So I can go to prom. I just have to get my girlfriend- well, my x-girlfriend- to go with me like we had originally planned.”

“Two weeks,” repeated John calmly. “You won’t be out in time for that.”

“Do you live here?” said Ashley.

“No,” I said. I told her the name of my hometown.

“So do I,” she said. “I’ll take you if you want.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“No, no, Ashley,” said Amy. “You can’t have outside contact after you leave here.”

“Why not?” I said.

“It’s the rules,” said Roy.

“It’s confidentiality,” explained Amy. “Josh, thank you for sharing your feelings. Now who wants to explain the process here?”

“I’ll do it!” said Ashley in sweet, gentle enthusiasm.

“Go ahead Ashley,” said Amy.

“Okay,” said Ashley. “Every morning, we go around the circle and ask everyone how they feel on a scale of 1-10. If you feel really, really good, then you’re a ten. That’s the best you can be. If you’re down, and feel like suicide or something, you say a one. If you’re a two or below, you need to talk to one of the counselors. In the evening, we do the same thing again. Now everyone shares what they want to share in group, and we’re not allowed to talk about it outside of group, okay? And in each group, we usually have a topic or something to discuss, or an activity. And that’s about it. How’d I do Amy?”

“Very well,” said Amy, pleased.

“You did a good job, Ashley,” said Roy.

“Yeah,” said George.

“Thank you!” said Ashley enthusiastically. Her face was a beaming smile, and her eyes shone with friendliness.

“Now, Josh, why don’t you start. How do you feel on a scale of 1 to 10?”

I thought a moment. “Bad,” I said.

“On a scale of 1 to 10?”

“Three,” I said. I really felt like a one- that was for sure- but I wasn’t going to talk to a counselor- that was also for sure.

“Ashley?” said Amy.

“Ten.”

There was a pause.

“Guy, you’re up,” said Roy.

“Two,” he said. “I think I could be worse.”

“Make sure one of us talks to you after group,” said Roy.

“Yes, sir.”

“I feel pretty good,” said George. “Except that everyone else is feeling down- but put me down as a 7.”

I realized then that Amy was making notes on a clipboard. I strained to see it, leaning over, but she covered it up so that all I had seen was a chart. I hadn’t been able to make out what was on it.

“Okay,” said Roy, taking the clipboard from Amy. “Today’s topic is, ‘baggage.’ I want everyone to take one of these, Ashley, pass these around please.”

Ashley reached over John to take a stack of paper, and passed it around. When it came to me, I peeled the top sheet off as the ones below became a little disorganized. I handed it back to Amy, then read what was there.

At the top were a few questions and a blurb.

John read the blurb aloud, saying, “Sometimes we hold onto things from the past that we shouldn’t hold onto. For example, if you used to fight with your parents, you might hold onto that anger and express it in inappropriate circumstances. Below is a worksheet to help you deal with your emotional baggage.”

Looking up, he said, “I want all of you to fill this out. I’ll give you… ten minutes.”

Everyone started working diligently at theirs, and I noticed that the counselors were doing the same. George passed a handful of pencils and pens to me, and I took one before handing it to Amy. She put it up.

I looked at the first question: “What are your current overriding emotions?” “Pain, depression, confusion,” I wrote.

Next question: “Why do you think you have these emotions? If they are negative, what emotional baggage do you think might have led to them? If they are good, how can you make them better?” I thought a minute. I had no idea why I felt the way I did. No matter what happened, I felt like something was going wrong. Right now the predominating stressor was this damn institution, so I wrote: “I have these emotions because I’m here, and also because I hate my life.”

I looked at the next question. “Whose responsibility is your emotions?” That was easy- I knew what they wanted me to put, so I put, “Mine.” It was true anyway.

“What can you do to improve your emotions?” Hmm. Uhm…. Hmm. I wonder. If I’d had the answer to that, I wouldn’t be here. I skipped it.

“If you could change one thing about your life or yourself, what would it be?” That was easy: “Cure depression,” I wrote.

Then there was Part II: “Draw three things that are important to overcoming your emotional baggage, and write why they’re important.” Three boxes, three lines under each box, all in a row at the bottom of the page.

I hated drawing.

I looked up and around to see if there were any colored pencils. I met Roy’s eye, and he went to the bookshelf to get a tin container. As he came back, he said:

“Anyone need colored pencils?”

“I do!” said Ashley.

Roy handed the shallow tin to John, and I could see the colored pencils and markers jumbled up inside. John passed them around. I could hear the rustling of pencils and markers clicking against one another as people selected them.

When the box came around, I picked out four markers: red, brown, blue, and black.

In the first box I drew a brown-handled knife with blood dripping off it; I outlined the blade in pen. At the bottom, I wrote, “I need to stop cutting and hurting myself.” In the second box, I drew a blue eye and wrote at the bottom, “I need to stop seeing things in a bad light, and start seeing them in a good light.” In the third box I drew a judge’s gavel and wrote, “I need to stop judging myself.”

I looked up. Amy handed me the tin with a smile, and I put my markers back in it. “Done already?” she said.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Do you like it here?” she said.

She was so sweet I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but I was too upset to think about other people right then. “I hate it,” I said.

“It’ll get better,” she said.

I didn’t answer. Everything in my mind centered around, “I doubt that.”

“Ashley didn’t like it here either, to start with,” she said, smiling warmly. “Now she loves it.”

“Ashley didn’t like it here?” I said. “Are you kidding?”

“No, I’m not. She wanted to go home worse than anyone I’ve ever seen. Didn’t you Ashley?” She turned toward Ashley.

“Ma’am?” said Ashley, looking up from her worksheet.

“I said you wanted to go home something awful when you first got here,” said Amy.

“Yes ma’am, I wanted to get out of here or die, and I didn’t care which,” said Ashley.

“You see darling?” said Amy. “It gets better.”

I looked her in the eye, and what I said next, as simple as it was, was sincere, flowing from my sincere desire to believe what they were saying, that things really would get better someday. All I said was, “Thank you.”

She smiled at me, then turned to the group, saying in a louder voice, “Okay, who’s not done with their worksheet?”

“I’m not!” said Ashley.

“Another five minutes?” said Roy.

“It won’t take me that long,” said Ashley.

“How about another two?”

“That’s good with me, how about everyone else?” said Ashley.

“I’m done,” I said.

“I’ll be done in two minutes,” said George. I looked over at him and realized he had written a lot in the spaces, and that he was now on his second drawing. It was of a caveman, and I wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. At least, I thought it was a caveman.

“I’m done,” said Guy. “Been done.”

“Did you finish?” said Roy sharply.

“That I did, buddy,” said Guy, “that I did.”

“Let me see,” said Roy.

He walked over and put out his hand. Guy handed it to him, and I caught a glance of a mostly blank paper. Roy only took a glance, and then he handed it back to Guy.

“Fill it out, or you can go to quiet time,” he said.

Guy sighed.

“You got a problem?” said Roy.

“No sir,” said Guy, and got back to his paper.

“You’d better shape up if you’re going to stay here,” said Roy.

“I don’t want to stay here,” said Guy.

“Would you rather be in prison?”

“No.”

“Then fill out that paper,” said Roy.

Guy started writing things down.

Roy walked back to his seat.

“Fill it out, Guy,” said Ashley.

“I don’t have any baggage,” he said.

“What about hatred against my x-boyfriend?”

“Time’s up,” said Roy. “You’d better have something down on that paper by the time we get to you. George, you start so he can have some time. What did you write down?”

George sat up in his seat, reading his paper as he summarized. “I said my overriding emotions are boredom-”

Guy laughed, and Roy said, “Is there a problem, Guy?”

“No sir, I just thought boredom isn’t really baggage, you know?”

“It is to George, evidently. One more outburst and I’ll send you straight to quiet time, got it?”

“Yeah,” muttered Guy.

Roy made a correcting sound in his throat. “I’m sorry, I thought I heard you say ‘yeah.’”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. I’m sorry you had to be interrupted, George. Go on.”

“I said my overriding emotions are boredom, apathy and listlessness. Sometimes I get frustrated, sometimes down. But I am feeling more satisfied than I used to. I think I have these emotions because my parents didn’t really raise me, I kind of raised myself, and I haven’t had much support from adults over the years.”

“Do you think you might dislike adults because of this?” said Amy.

George paused. “Yeah, actually I think I do.”

“Whose responsibility is your emotions, George?”

“Mine.”

“And how can you overcome your emotional baggage?”

“I said that if I’m going to overcome my baggage, I’ve got to take care of myself and take charge of my life.”

“And if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?”

“I’d be a type A personality instead of a type B.”

“But that’s your strong suit,” I said.

“No talking out of turn,” said Roy.

“But everyone’s…”

“One more word and I’ll put you outside group for five minutes.”

I raised my hand.

“Yes, Josh?” said Roy.

“That’s his strong suit- your strong suit, George. You’re really laid back and easygoing and supportive, and all that’s type B. If you were type A, you’d be grabbing and overexerting and nitpicking and maybe even angry. I’d say you’re a better person the way you are.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“What do you think about that, George?” said Amy.

“I think Josh just made my day.”

“Do you think he’s right?”

“I don’t know.”

“Thank you for sharing, George. We’ll go around a second time when we get to Part II. Josh, what did you put down?”

“Well, for the first question, I put pain, depression and confusion; for the second question I had a really tough time, but I put down that it’s because I hate my life, one, and two, because I’m here.”

“You can do better than that,” said John. “Name some other things.”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Would you think better outside group?”

“No- please….”

“Then think of something,” he said, and his face was only a blank half-smirk that he always seemed to wear.

“I…I…” I thought hard. “I don’t know.”

“Take a seat outside group, and come back to us when you’re ready to participate.”

I got up, and sat down outside group, nervous. I started muttering about John. He was so preppy. Probably didn’t have any feelings.

“What’s that Hammonds?” said John.

“Nothing,” I said.

“If I hear my name from your lips again, I don’t care if I still can’t tell what you’re saying, I don’t care if you are saying I’m a handsome devil, you will be out of here.”

I was scared they’d put me in quiet time again. I stopped mumbling. I had to get this done, and get back in group. I thought hard. “I’m hard on myself,” I wrote down.

Amy had just started hers when I came back into group. “Is this good enough?” I asked her, not wanting to ask John or Roy.

“Let me see,” said John. He grabbed the sheet, and looked at it. “What does this say?” he asked.

“Sorry,” I said. “I have bad handwriting.”

Ashley looked at it. “Good Lord,” she said. “It’s chicken scratch.”

“Let me see,” said George.

“You can wait,” said Roy, looking at it. “Tell you what. This is a once in a lifetime occasion- I can’t read it.”

“You can’t read it?” said Ashley. “That’s a bad sign, Josh. Roy’s handwriting’s really, really bad.”

“Okay, Josh,” said John, looking up at me with a smile that looked more like a smirk. There was humor in his eyes. “Why don’t you tell us what this says?”

I took it from them and pointed to each individual word in front of John’s, Roy’s and Ashley’s bunched peering faces. “I’m- hard- on- myself,” I finished.

John nodded. “Good,” he said. “That’s better. Welcome back to group, Josh.”

“Now see,” said Amy, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Actually, it was,” I said.

“Know the feeling,” said Guy. I realized he hadn’t even budged over my handwriting.

“Better not know the feeling,” growled Roy.

Someone laughed.

“Well, why don’t you sit down and go on reading your worksheet, Josh,” said Amy, “since none of the rest of us can.”

“Okay,” I said. “My emotions are my own responsibility…”

“Good,” said Amy as I went on.

“…and I can improve my emotions…” I took a deep breath. I had forgotten that I’d skipped that one.

“You can do it, Josh,” said Ashley.

“Think of something, Josh,” whispered George.

“With all this encouragement if you can’t think of something you should be ashamed,” said Roy. “Give it a try!”

I really didn’t know, and the first thing that I thought of was Buddha sitting on a grassy plain. I was laughing inside, and I didn’t care anymore. “I could meditate,” I said.

“Awesome!” exhumed Ashley.

“What?” I said.

“That was a good one,” said Amy.

“Yes it was,” said Roy. “Very original. Do you meditate?”

Improvising, I said, “Well, I guess I meant I could learn.”

“I’ll teach him!” said Ashley.

“You will?” I said. I wasn’t sure what I’d gotten myself into.

“It’s settled, then,” said John. “Ashley, you can teach him after visitation hours are over. But don’t teach him anything he doesn’t want to learn, okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

I wasn’t sure why he’d said that. I really hoped I didn’t have to sit down and say, “Om,” thirty thousand times. I grinned to myself.

“Oh don’t you worry,” said Ashley. “I know what I’m doing.”

“She’s very talented,” said Amy. “She taught me a little.”

“She taught you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” said Roy.

“Now how about the rest of your worksheet?” finished John. “I assume you have it?”

“Yes sir,” I said. I was feeling a little bit better. The support from my new friends was wonderful. For their gift of friendship, as crazy as it might sound when I’d only known them for a few hours, this trip was almost paid for. “If I could change one thing about my life, I would cure my depression.”

“That’s very honest,” said Amy.

“Yes it is,” said John. Roy nodded.

“Thank you for sharing,” Roy said. “I believe Miss Amy is up.”

“Yes I am,” said Amy with a nod. “My current overriding emotion is ambition. I think it’s mostly good, but it does lead to some stressing out at times- thank you Ashley for help with that. It’s that way because my parents didn’t finish high school, and I was scared to wind up like them. I know I can keep up my ambition by thinking of everything they encouraged me to do, before they died, reaching for my dreams, and never giving up because I’m still reaching for my dreams. My emotions are my responsibility, and I can improve my emotions by learning to accept when I don’t do as well as I’d like to do, being more content with what I’ve got and what I’ve already achieved, and”- she glanced up at Ashley with a smile- “beginning a frequent meditative routine.” She paused. “And if I could change one thing about myself, I would make myself never think of myself, but always other people, and be more like Jesus.”

She looked at John expectantly.

John said, “My overriding emotion is humor. I think I have this emotion because I don’t take things seriously, even if I act like I do. My emotions are my responsibility, and I can improve my emotions by listening to people better. And as for one thing to change about myself or my life, as to that, I would make myself filthy rich and retire tomorrow.”

There was laughter, but Amy said, “Come on, John, be serious. We want to set a good example.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, a twinkle of mischief in his eye as he gave his smirk-smile at her. “I would be married to a beautiful woman with a high IQ and a good sense of humor. No offense to my girlfriend.”

It was strange to watch how, even as he said something designed to elicit a response, the only part of him that changed was his eyes. The smile stayed the same; the expression, the same. His eyes only glowed, twinkled or shone, as they did now while Guy grunted, George and I laughed a little, and Ashley said, “Shame on you.”

“All right then, let’s hear yours, Ashley,” said Roy. “We’ll see how deep you are.”

“Okay,” said Ashley. “I said that my overriding emotions were peace and happiness….”

“Sure,” said John.

“No, that’s true,” said Ashley.

“Go on,” said Amy.

“And I can keep this up by staying on my meds and continuing therapy. My emotions are my responsibility, and I can improve my emotions by being optimistic and grateful for what I have, and also meditating and praying. If I could change one thing about myself, I don’t think it would be mental illness because it’s a huge part of who I’ve become, and I don’t think I could have gotten here without it. No, for me, I’d change my weight- I’d like to be slim and beautiful.”

“Shame on you,” said Roy, and there was a bit of goodhearted laughter. “Guy, you’re up. You got something or are you going to quiet time?”

“I don’t have any baggage,” he said.

“Ugh! You’re out of here! Get going.”

“Come on, Guy,” said Ashley. “You must have some anger against my x-boyfriend for what he did to me- couldn’t you need to forgive him, or something?”

“My only baggage,” said Guy, “is that I loved you from the moment I saw you….”

“That’s not appropriate for group,” said Amy, but Guy drowned her out, raising his voice.

“… and that every time I do anything in the back of my mind all that’s there is what I can do best for you….”

“Then take her advice!” shouted Roy.

“…and if I go to jail, if these people put me in a mental institution for the rest of my life, I’ll sleep better at night,” said Guy, nearly shouting, as Roy and John stood and came over toward him, “because I’ll know you’re not getting whipped by some jackass, cause I took care of him…”

He looked up at Roy, who was grabbing him by the armpits and hauling him to his feet.

“You got a problem?” Roy shouted into his face.

“I got a problem,” said Guy, no longer shouting. “But I took care of it. Now I’ve got a new problem. But I can’t fix it, and you can’t, because if I’m not in jail I’ll be stuck in a shit-hole like here….”

“That’s it,” said Roy, and shoved him hard over his chair. The chair slid, then flipped as Guy stumbled backward, then fell, his body sliding off the edge.

“Miss Amy, take them out of here,” said Roy.

“Come on, you three,” said Amy. She got up and walked widely around Guy, and I followed behind George, Ashley at her side.

I looked over my shoulder, and saw Roy holding Guy down, trying to turn him over as his feet flailed in the air, John just out of reach. As I looked forward again, I saw a plump, white blond nurse in green scrubs running toward them with a syringe in her hand, the handle drawn back.

“Come on,” said Amy, “quickly now, you three.”

She led us through the hallway our rooms were on, then turned toward the hall leading to the dining hall and the front entrance but stopped us just ahead of the double doors, scanning her card on a locked door. She propped the door open with a chair, and we filed into the room. It was much smaller, with a table in the middle and a bunch of the same chairs as had been in the common room. There was a dry erase board at the wall on the right hand side, which was next to the doorway, and the room extended to our left. The walls were blue.

I sat down in a chair, thoughts racing about Guy. I hoped he’d be all right. I wanted him to be okay.

“Time’s about up for morning group anyway,” said Amy, sitting down. “Where were we?”

“That’s everyone,” said Ashley. “Everyone that’s here, that is.”

“Yes, that’s so. Well, does anyone have anything they’d like to share?”

John and Roy walked into the room, sitting down like nothing had happened.

“I don’t know what to do about Guy,” wailed Ashley. “He’s been such a good friend for such a long time, but I didn’t know he liked me.”

“Do you like him?” said Amy.

“As a friend, yeah.” She paused, and no one would speak till she answered. “But not in that kind of way.”

“Then you shouldn’t worry about him. It’s better to surround yourself with people who are going to help you….”

“Didn’t you hear him? Don’t you know what he did because of me? He’d give his life for me!”

“The way he’s going,” I said, “he probably will.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll find the answers you’re looking for eventually,” said Amy. “Meditate on it.”

Ashley sighed. “Yes ma’am.”

“And if you need to talk to me, we can go somewhere private right now.”

Ashley nodded. “Okay.”

She and Amy walked out of the room.

Roy spoke up. “Why don’t you two tell us what your drawings were,” he said. “George, you first.”

“I drew an orange, because I need to enjoy life; a rainbow, because I need to look on the sunny side; and a monster, because I need to overcome my fears.”

“Thank you for sharing, George. Josh?”

“I drew a judge’s gavel, an eye and a knife. The knife was because I need to stop cutting and hurting myself…”

“Good so far,” put in Roy.

“… the gavel was because I need to stop judging myself, and the eye was because I need to stop seeing everything in such a bad light.”

“Thank you for sharing,” said John.

I heard a thud, and went to the door instinctively.

“Sit down,” said John.

I glanced outside the door, then returned to sit down. The quiet time room door had been getting struck. Now I could hear Guy screaming.

“I’ll get out of here!” he was saying. “I’ll get out of here! You let me out, or I’ll fucking bust this door down and break loose! I’ll beat the shit out of every one of you! Bitches! Let me out, let me out!”

It went on like that.

“I told you to sit down,” said John. “You should have sat down immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Good. Next time I’ll sit you outside group.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I like your manners, Josh.”

“Thank you. What’ll happen to Guy?”

“That’s none of your concern, Hammonds,” said Roy.

I thought I heard the quiet time room door swing open, and I knew it had to have happened because Guy’s screaming grew louder. Now it changed.

“Get away from me! Get away from me! I’ll break your arm if you come any closer!”

Then there was a thud, and someone else screamed. Roy’s head whipped around, and he ran out of the room. There were sounds of a struggle, then Roy’s voice, “If you keep this up we’ll call the police, Guy. Now stop before it’s too late, you hear?”

“Give in, Guy!” I shouted.

“It’ll be okay!” hollered George.

The struggle subsided some, and Guy stopped screaming. Then there was a brief silence, after which he screamed in pain, and then groaned loudly, and fell silent.

Roy returned with his clothes a little ruffled, but he appeared otherwise unharmed.

I had in my head the image of Roy shoving Guy over the chair. Guy hadn’t been violent till afterward; the whole thing could have been avoided if Roy hadn’t shoved him. “God!” I shouted, pulling my hair. Later I would wonder if I was right, but right then I said exactly what was on my mind: “Roy escalated it!”

“I won’t have any attacks against counselors,” said John. “Go sit outside group.”

I got up and went outside group. I could now see the quiet time door, but the small window at the top didn’t allow me to see Guy. I wondered if he was unconscious. Must be.

Just then the lights flicked on and off.

John came to the door to look outside.

“Hey, lookee what I can do,” I joked.

He went back inside.

I waited a few minutes, then everyone filed out and John came back to me.

“You’re going to quiet time,” he said.

“What for?” I asked.

“We can discuss that when you get out. Now go.”

“Not if you don’t tell me why I’m going,” I said.

“Get up,” he said, smirking at me. This was his usual expression, however, and I wasn’t sure what it meant.

I stood.

“Now come here.”

I followed him to the welcome desk, then stopped. “Why are you putting me in there?” I asked.

He turned around. “I’m not going to ask you again,” he said. “Are you coming?”

“I’m not coming till you tell me….”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“No.”

He looked away from me, and for a moment his smirk vanished.

“Should I get help?” a nurse asked.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

He turned back to me. “We could do this the easy way,” he said.

“You tell me why I’m going, and I’ll go,” I said. I was scared.

“I told you, we can discuss this when you’re out.”

I wondered if I’d said something like Guy had said. I hadn’t meant to if I had. Part of me said, “Go inside,” but at the same time I felt as if this wasn’t fair. I did not want to be a problem, but I really hadn’t done anything, and I really would have gone if he would have told me what it was I had done.

A tall, thin black counselor ran toward us from the adult common room. I watched him approach.

John didn’t say anything a moment, just turned.

“He won’t tell me why I’m going,” I told the new counselor as he ran up.

They got on either side of me. I started to back up, then John nodded to the other one, and they both grabbed me by the shoulder on their side.

As they tugged me forward, my body convulsed against them wildly. I shook and strained against them, the world jolting around me. I waved backward and forward, neither gaining nor losing ground as I struggled to free myself from their grasp. I hurled John to the floor with one good sling, and he spun off my arm, sliding through a rolling chair that spun away from him. Now I was close to being free.

I hurled myself forward, then backward, grabbing onto the black counselor’s arm and trying to free myself. I was almost free when someone grabbed me from behind and slung me to the ground. He must have been big because I went down fast. Then whoever it was was on my back, holding me down.

John got up and came over to hold my head down. I knocked my head against his hand, trying to get free, but he grabbed my head by the hair and knocked it against the floor twice. I paused.

“Let me up!” I said.

“No,” said John.

“What did I do?”

“I told you, we can discuss that after you get out of quiet time.”

Someone was pulling down my pants. I craned my neck around, but John pulled it down by the hair. I could tell from the amount of force used that he hadn’t decided whether or not to slam it.

“Relax or this will hurt,” I heard a woman saying.

No.

I cocked my leg back, and kicked. It scraped against something, not a real hit, but as the nurse shrieked I kicked again, and again, and again. My legs flailed wildly.

“Someone get his feet!” I heard Roy say.

He grabbed at them, but he couldn’t stop them. I kicked for all I was worth. It was all there was between me and getting tranquilized.

I heard heavy footsteps, and looked up to see a very overweight, muscular black man who must have neared my height or at least six feet running toward us. I had a bad feeling in my stomach, but I kept kicking.

I had to get free before he could get here because then it would be too late. There would be nothing I could do if he got a hold of me.

I put my hands beside my chest and pushed upward. The big guy who was on my back, whom I now realized was Roy, put more of his weight against me.

“No, no,” I muttered, my voice growing louder. “You’re not going to tranquilize me!” I shouted.

The big black guy passed my range of vision and someone was grabbing at my legs. I kicked higher. The black man swore under his breath, and then got a hold of one of my legs.

“Please!” I screamed. “Listen to me! They won’t even tell me why I’m going in!”

At this point the man had both my legs, and nearly had them under control.

“Please!” I screamed.

He slung them on the ground and managed to hold them. I quit struggling. I could feel the weight of two big men on top of me; I knew I was not going anywhere.

“Please!” I shouted. “I didn’t do anything!”

The nurse pulled down my pants.

“I’ll go in peacefully!” I shouted. “Just tell me what I did wrong! I won’t do it again! Tell me!”

I started twisting, convulsing in my final struggle to get free. But the needle entered my butt, and I had to stop struggling in order to ease the pain. It was too late.

A second later they pulled out the needle.

“We’re going to lift you up,” said John. “Don’t make this hard.”

I didn’t have any fight left in me. I stood, Roy and John lifting me up by the shoulders. Without applying any force, they walked me to the door of a quiet time room other than the one Guy was in, one at the entrance to the adult ward beyond the welcome desk.