Sabrina Teeters

Warning: the following content contains sensitive topics, including homicidal words, threats, yelling, and inpatient facilities. Reader discretion is advised.

It was a few days into my stay at the Children’s Hospital Inpatient Facility. Ethan, Charlie, and I were attached at the hip; we knew each other’s songs to put on the list, and we had broken the rules of “no touching” a multitude of times when talking to each other about our reasons for being there.

We were in music therapy, the instructor droning on and on about how “music will heal your soul” and such, although nobody was paying attention. We all sat in our normal spots, Ethan being on my left and Charlie sitting on my right. We would look over at each other, making bored expressions or cracking a joke that made us all giggle while the instructor pretended not to notice.

“Nurse B****” pulled me out into the hallway, her lip curled up into a sneer like we saw every day. She was appropriately nicknamed, snapping at us whenever we slightly bent the rules or had fun. She didn’t want to work there, and we could all tell.

“We’re switching your rooms. Come gather your stuff.” She snapped, though not looking at me. I followed her up the metal stairs, walking in after the keycard scanner beeped and let us into our unit. I walk to my room in the corner, opening the door and grabbing my stuff to move to whichever room was decided for me.

She opens the door to the room right next to mine, the familiar window on the side of the door letting nurses look in at night. A window outside was in the back, a single couch resting against it. Across from the couch, there was another door with an identical window on the left of it. Inside, a single bed with bright white blankets and a single white pillow sewn into the mattress, an incredibly uncomfortable mattress.

I moved silently, not wishing to upset “Nurse B****.” I hear a small voice, and I look out to see a girl no older than ten. Choppy, dirty blonde hair resting on her shoulders as she walks by, talking absentmindedly to a different nurse.

When I was done moving my stuff, the girl and I sat in the dayroom as we waited for the rest of our unit to come up for dinner. I learned her name, Callie, and how she moved units because she threatened another little boy too many times.

We walked to the dining room together, walking in and sitting with the others in the maroon scrubs, all taking our paper trays with a singular plastic spork on top.

By 8:00 p.m., we head to our respective rooms for ‘quiet time.’ I sit on the floor in the first room, poking my head out every so often to make jokes with Ethan and Charlie before getting told off by a nurse. A deck of red cards lay out in front of me, seven neat lines formed as I organized the cards in a regular game of Solitaire.

The automatic doors for the rooms slam shut as I’m engrossed in my game. I look up, attempting to peek out of the small window by the door, just for a nurse to block the view.

“I’LL STAB YOU ALL! I’LL DO IT! I’LL KILL YOU!”

I flinched at the loud noise right outside of my room before freezing completely. The Jack of Spades is in my hand, ready to be placed before the vicious screams from Callie filled the hallways.

30 minutes passed, and Callie was effectively sedated. Our doors open again, but Ethan and Charlie never pop their heads out. I stay frozen, staring out the doorway at Callie’s empty, messy room, and the circle of nurses that have now dispersed.

A nurse walks into my room, holding a cup of water and a small packet of Goldfish. I didn’t look at her, simply staring down at my cards as I picked them up, not feeling the want to play a simple card game any longer. She places them down next to me cautiously, though I don’t move to grab them.

Lights out was at 9:00 p.m., and I’m still sitting silently in the same spot as the nurse announces it for us all. Cards are placed back in their box, and the styrofoam cup of water is empty, though the Goldfish packet sits there, untouched.

I bring it next to my bed, placing it down gently with my composition notebook and deck of cards, staring at it while sitting gently on my bed every night, as Callie would repeat the same phrases. I eventually begin noticing her shoving her sporks from dinner in her waistband, and the paint on the wall in her room being scraped from her attempting to sharpen the plastic into a shank.

A few days later, Charlie was discharged. We waved her goodbye, and the next day, Ethan got discharged. It was lonely, Callie and I being two of the only people left in the adolescent ward.

Getting discharged was a breath of fresh air, my mom driving me away from the Goldfish still sitting on the floor. For months, I would stay up until late hours of the night. Waiting, listening, preparing myself for the screams of threats again. They never came, though they replayed in my mind for years.

Though the memories of the place dim, they’re never forgotten. I often catch myself thinking about those nights, never forgetting how she sounded as she was screaming homicidal threats.