The Lost Queen

Chapter 7. Unevenly cut moustache

Kayla

It was way too early when Ruth strolled into my bedroom and switched the lights on. I panicked and almost tore my hand off after forgetting that I had tied myself to the headboard for the night. My foster mother didn’t look at me, she just shouted for me to wake up and flicked the lights on. I tried to shake sleepiness from my body, but my fingers were too slow and untying myself from the bed took more than fifteen minutes.

I had maybe half an hour before leaving, so I just washed my face, brushed my teeth, and attempted to comb my messy hair into a suitable look. After leaving the bathroom, I put some things in my backpack and was ready to leave for a “fun” trip. As I knew Dr. Camden talked with Ruth about all the procedures that could happen and if something went wrong, I would have to stay for longer than a weekend. I didn’t want to stay longer than necessary, so I must behave and act like I’m not a schizophrenic person and I don’t have any other s**t that they were trying so hard to accredit me with.

When I went down the stairs, I found both of my foster parents standing there reposeful and raised my eyebrows full of surprise. Arthur was a tall man and, like Ruth, he had a rough appearance. His hair was an ashy colour, and he had a silent threat in his amber eyes. I wasn’t sure if the warning was meant for me, or if he just looked at everyone with the same gaze.

“Hello Kayla. Did you sleep well?” his voice was very sweet compared to his appearance, and I let sigh full of relief.

“Good morning. I need a few more hours, but I will survive.” I smiled, grabbing my backpack straps for moral support. Arthur nodded at me and opened the front door. Ruth passed the first one and I examined her formal clothing choice. With a black suit and a white jacket, she looked fancy. Compared to her, I looked like an orphanage kid with blue jeans and a yellow blouse. I also took my leather jacket in case the weather would change drastically, but even if it was January the air was warm enough not to wear a winter coat.

When we sat in the car, I straight away took my earphones out and plugged them into my phone. It was a three-hour drive, and I needed a distraction from everything that would happen soon.

I fell asleep halfway through the trip, because when I felt gently tapping on my shoulder, the first thing that I saw was a creepy orphanage building, kind of orangey bricks were worn out and there were bars on the first-floor windows. Sometimes I wondered if this was a prison or an orphanage, maybe even a psychiatric clinic, if bars were needed. Like some kids just can’t go through the doors and they will leap out of the window.

I climbed out of the car and took my backpack. I felt the same loneliness which I was feeling back the day when I had to return to the orphanage because my foster parents decided to abandon me. I looked at Ruth and Arthur and both smiled politely. I knew what they were thinking, the same things that my earlier “parents” thought about my illness and other stuff for which I must return here again and again.

“Will you be okay on your own, or should we accompany you?” Ruth asked while looking at the boring orphanage building.

“I will be okay.” I nodded my head and started climbing, but stopped for a moment and turned back to my current foster parents, “you won’t leave me here?”

Ruth’s eyes opened widely, and she shook her head. She looked almost sincere but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to believe it. Not yet anyway.

“Of course not. We will come here tomorrow and take you home,” Arthur vocalized Ruth’s emotions and I nodded once more. I waved goodbye to both and finished climbing the concrete stairs to the top. The same time as I stepped onto the porch, two-sided doors opened, and Dr. Camden stepped out. Like always, he wore a white doctor’s coat, and his smile was plastered on his face. I looked at him from close up and could see his unevenly cut moustache. Dr. Camden is a small man, even shorter than me, his head was almost bald and his beard white already. His eyes were boringly brown and thin lips tried to mimic a genuine smile while I observed the man.

“Hello Kayla. How was your trip?”

“Pleasant like always, Dr. Camden.” He nodded, satisfied with my answer, and pointed his hand to the door.

“Shall we move inside?” the Doctor suggested, and I threw one more glance at my foster parents, who looked curiously at us. I tried to feel at ease, but something gnawed inside me, and I felt doubt brewing in my head.

When I stepped inside, and the heavy doors closed behind me, I inspected everything around. Nothing changed. Creamy walls were still there, only a few shades darker than before. I heard children's chirping somewhere and stopped breathing. I didn’t want to be here. Everything felt like before when I returned unwanted and unloved.

My breath hitched in my throat, every sound felt distant, and my vision was blurry. Oh, s**t. I can’t start crying now! If Dr. Camden will see how unstable I am. He won’t let me leave tomorrow. I needed to leave while I was sane. Every memory tries to attack me and remind me of lonely days in the orphanage. I must be stronger. For future’s me.

“Go put down your things in the same room as always and then we can meet for a conversation.” I nodded without striving for an answer and strolled down the hall to the same small windowless room in which I always stayed when I used to come here for a check-up.

Four months have passed since the last time I was here. After my former foster parents gave me up, I immediately went to Ruth and Arthur and didn’t return to the orphanage. I don’t know why all those families wanted me as a foster child, but I was always on the move with other families. Sometimes I lived longer with one of them, sometimes shorter, but they never wanted to adopt me and provide me with a home forever.

When I entered a small room, I found a metal frame bed with brown sheets. The walls were white like in a hospital, and I tried to shake that thought out of my head. Everything was the same as always and I was tired of repeating the same therapy all over again.

I put down my backpack on the bed and took off my jacket. When I looked at the wall in front of me, I saw a large mirror and remembered that it was a double glass wall, so Dr. Camden could monitor me through the night.

Not creepy at all.

Clenching my fists, I left the room and strolled back through the hallway to the doctor’s office and knocked twice. I entered without waiting for an answer and sat casually on the orange couch which looked hideous in the light place of work. The man was sitting behind a large desk and looking into the computer with furrowed eyebrows. I tried to be quiet while waiting, but I didn’t want to be there and eventually I started squirming in my seat.

A strange pacing in my head started again and I felt like someone was trying to run in my head. Maybe I was really a schizophrenic and I needed to be locked in a psychiatric ward for my own good?

“So, Kayla, how are you feeling currently? I heard that you started sleepwalking again.”

“I think my sleepwalking started from the stress before new school because I’m feeling great. After one time recently I didn’t sleepwalk, and I slept peacefully,” I answered nonchalantly, and tried to forget about the rope under my mattress.

“How’s the new school? Did you find some new friends?” Dr. Camden looked up from his notes and smiled artificially.

“It was a little bit hard but now there are some people. They invited me to a picnic, but I already had plans to come here, so I think I’m doing okay in that sphere.”

“That’s really great to hear.” The Psychiatrist nodded, satisfied with my answers, “how are you doing emotionally? Do you have some concerns about your mental health?” A few moments, I stared at him not sure what he wanted to hear. I felt pacing in my head increase but tried to ignore it and looked through the window into an empty field.

I wasn’t sure about my mental health, but I needed to be convincing if I wanted to leave tomorrow. I can’t show any weakness, but also, I have to play my part.

“Sometimes I have struggles. For example, connecting with someone and when everything is new again, it’s even harder to do that and find friends, but I think this new place is good for me. I already have friends; the town is gorgeous, and my foster parents are good people.” I shrugged, fixing my gaze to piercing doctor’s eyes.

It doesn’t matter that I lied about almost everything. I didn’t have friends and I didn’t think that the new family was good for me, but at that moment I would have said anything to just slip through this therapy and get back home unharmed.