How I Got Here Read online

  It wasn’t until November that she did something I couldn’t brush off. I came into school and headed to the library, where I would normally meet my two best friends, Emma and Rose, we’d been friends since we were all seven, and we spent practically every weekend round at each other’s houses, taking it in turns to host the sleepover. We had a lot of routines that we’d stick to, and one of them was meeting in the library before school, unless we were running late. When I arrived in the library that particular morning they weren’t there, I called both of them but got no reply, it wasn’t like them because even when they were running late, they’d always pick up the phone, or send a quick message explaining that they wouldn’t make it. I just shrugged it off though, and made it towards my first class, Russian History, which was one of my favorites. As I walked down the hall I spotted them both, standing in a group with Kim and her friends, I smiled at them and waved, they blanked me. I tried speaking to them at lunch, but they turned their back on me and started laughing about something, then they went to Kim’s table and sat down, all of the girls glanced at me and burst out laughing. I felt so stung, I think that’s the best way to describe it, it was the first time anything Kim had done affected me, but I wasn’t about to let her see that, so I sat down and methodically ate my lunch, once I was done I stood up and walked to the bathrooms, jammed the door closed, walked into a cubical and burst into tears. You may be thinking that I was a little pathetic, perhaps I was, but they were my best friends and Kim had turned them against me, I didn’t have a clue how she had managed to do it, turning them against a friend they’d known for years, and I still don’t know, all I know is that they never spoke a truly kind word to me again, and from that day onwards I was totally alone in that school.

  I went home that night feeling so utterly alone, it hadn’t really sunk in and yet there it was, staring me right in the face when I got home, I opened up my laptop and found an email from Kim. I’ll write it out for you here, because this is truly the part where things began to slowly fall apart, piece by piece.

  River,

  So now you know what it means when you cross me, I warned you that we couldn’t be friends because you never turned up to my party, you shouldn’t ever dismiss me River, because when you do you make me angry, I don’t like being refused. It was so easy for me to convince your friends to stay away from you, in the end they were just like the other girls at the school, wrapped around my little finger, and all it took were a few little stories. Oh and by the way I wouldn’t bother showing anyone this email, because I’m not stupid, I’ve already covered that, I told them all that you hacked my account. I put on such a good performance, crying that you had been so very cruel to me, you should have seen it! I am an actress after all, and I play my part so very well.

  I know you think I’ve done you wrong, that I’m overreacting, all you ever did was refuse to attend a party, and you hardly even know me so can I really blame you? The answer of course is yes, you see I really don’t like rejection, never have and I don’t think I ever will, and those who reject me get what’s coming to them.

  You need to keep in mind though, all I’ve done so far is show you for your true self, which is nothing; you are nothing and never will be. You are less than nothing. There are some people who are so extraordinary, the shining stars that people long to be around, that is where I slot into things, and then at the other end of there are the nothings, the people who don’t matter, the ones who are so easily left behind, that’s you darling, the forgettable one, the invisible one, the plain one.

  Yes I like that, that works rather perfectly for you darling girl, you’re plain.

  Kim.

  That was the first time the word plain became shattering to me, on its own it didn’t mean anything at all to me, so what if this girl thought I was plain? Did I really care what she thought of me? Well, however stupid it may sound to you, I did care. Not because I wanted her to like me, not even because I was offended that she said I was plain, or that I was nothing, but because of the power she held over me. With a few sweet smiles, some softly spoken lies and her impeccable acting skills, she’d managed to take away my friends, she’d managed to get everyone in that school sending me emails, which were all lined up in my mailbox along with hers, that’s what I found when I got home. 93 emails telling me I was plain, that I was nothing, you hear something enough and you start to believe it, and 93 people telling you that you are plain is quite persuasive. Tell me doctor, how would that make you feel?

  So there it is just as you asked, all written down neatly in black and white for your consideration, what do you think of me now? Do you pity me? I do hope that you won’t pity me, because that isn’t what this is about, I don’t want your pity or your concern, I don’t want your soothing words of comfort, I want to get this over with, so tell me what you think and then I’ll share with you the next part of this story. Then maybe, just maybe you’ll understand how I got here. Maybe, I’ll understand it as well.

  River

  Chapter Two

  Session 1

  He lays the pages down on his lap making sure not to crease them, River’s neat curling words are scribbled across each page, in places the black ink is slightly smudged, he can tell that the marks were made by her tears as she wrote this down, the thought of her sitting alone crying over this letter, is almost more than he can handle, but he has to be professional and not let it bother him.

  When he’d first met River on the ward at the private hospital that he works in, she’d been nothing more than another patient, another girl who needed to be treated for some illness, but that hadn’t lasted long and over the weeks he’d seen that there was more to her, she wasn’t just a symptom that needed to be treated, she was a girl who was clearly struggling to handle what had happened to her, and despite several therapy sessions with the hospitals best psychiatrists, she refused to speak, in fact she hardly spoke a word to anyone, she just sat there in her bed staring out of the window, getting paler by the day and the dark circles growing darker each time he saw her. He had seen her on several occasions since he’d started at the hospital, and in that time he had seen her pull out a leather bound notebook from under her pillow, more times than he could count, and he would watch her as she scribbled away in it for hours. He had always been an observant guy, and he had noticed a lot about her, he knew there was so much that she was locking up, and that it was tearing her apart, and so because he wanted to find a way to help her, he had started sitting with her. He wouldn’t talk to her, or push her to talk, but he would just sit there and let her know that he was there for her, if she needed to talk to anybody then he would listen. A few times she had spoken, not ever about herself, but the first time she’d spoken to him it was because he was having a bad day, and she was worried about him. In that moment he knew that all the other staff were wrong, she wasn’t a lost cause, and he wouldn’t ever give up on her.

  Two weeks after she had first spoken to him, with her kind concern for his wellbeing, she had looked over to him with tears glistening in her eyes, and behind the tears he saw something which brought hope to his heart, he saw trust. Then with a voice that was shaking, one that was a little out of practice from her silence, she had said the words he longed to hear.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ She had curled her legs up to her chest, holding them tightly as she waited for him to respond, it was a gesture that he’d seen her do a lot, whenever she was feeling particularly vulnerable, or when she was scared about something, she would curl her legs up. It was then that he had told her that he would like her to tell him what happened to her, how she got to this point of being in the hospital, refusing to talk, and battling with her physical and emotional problems alone. He had seen the fear creep into her face, so he had spoken quickly to reassure her, telling her that she didn’t have to talk to him if she didn’t want to, he still wasn’t going to push her into talking, but she could write it all down for him, tell him in her own words, with the chance to cross
it out if she changed her mind, he’d told her that she could tell him as much or as little as she felt comfortable with. She had hesitated for longer than he thought he could cope with, the only thing stopping him from worrying too much, was the fact that she had lost the scared look from her eyes, and eventually she had faced him, nodding her head slowly to show him that she would do it.

  ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘Then tell it to me in separate parts, write me a series of letters and bit by bit we’ll find out what happened, would that work for you?’ He had spoken with gentle kindness, drawing her in and earning her respect and trust.

  ‘I – yes I think – I’ll write it in parts.’ She offered him a tiny weak smile, then stopped talking and went back to looking out the window.

  Now on a bright day in the first week of July, with the sun shining through the windows of her private room at the hospital, she had just given him the first letter, the first part of her story.

  His initial reaction after reading it was to fully blame this girl Kim and the hateful teenage bullying that she had instigated, but once again he found himself having to remind himself to keep his emotions in check, remind himself that this was just a small part of her puzzle, she had only let him into the start of the story, and he knew that she was a strong girl, and it would have taken a lot more than what he’d just read, to get her here to this point. That had been two years ago, so there had to be more to the story than this, it would have taken more than some hateful words from school children, more than the vendetta of a spoilt teenage girl. He was almost entirely certain that what was yet to come, would be far worse than what she’d revealed to him already, the thought of that scared him, and yet he was also thrilled because she had been more honest with him than he’d expected.

  She was now sitting in her bed, with her legs once again curled up to her chest, sitting in her defensive position, looking so small that she looked like a child, only she wasn’t a child any more, she was eighteen now, but she had been broken these last two years, and the effects were strikingly physical as well as emotional.

  Her thick dark hair is soft and wavy and it falls around her face a little messily, as she moves her head to look at him, a strand falls across her eyes. She doesn’t speak, but her expression dares him to talk, invites him to tell her what he thinks.

  ‘Thank you – for doing this, I know it can’t have been easy for you.’ He taps the pages on his lap, clears his throat and decides what to say next, ‘This is how it all began then, with this girl Kim?’ He sees her flinch at the mention of Kim’s name, and realizes it’s easier for her to write it, than it is for her to hear it out loud. She recovers quickly though and nods her head in response to his question. He knows that she doesn’t want to talk, but there are things he needs to know, so he decides to ask her the questions anyway, because she can just write the answers in her next letter.

  ‘Did this bullying get any worse?’ He speaks so quietly that she feels safe, she feels like she can be honest with him, because he will understand. She closes her eyes against the sunshine, against the concern etched into his face.

  ‘I told you – that,’ Her hand flies in the direction of her first letter, ‘is only the start of things.’

  He’s shocked that she’s answered his question already, he hadn’t expected to hear her talking, and each time she does speak to him he is amazed, transfixed by her clear and beautiful voice, the strength that he can hear despite her vulnerability. He has to pull himself out of his shock to speak again, because he is aware that he’s been staring at her, with his mouth hanging open the smallest touch and she is looking confused.

  ‘Do you feel ready to write down the next part?’ He asks quietly, her eyes which she has shut again now fly open and she shakes her head violently, he places a hand on hers to calm her down, an action which a month ago would have caused her to snatch her hand back, but now she leaves it lying under the comforting weight of his hand.

  ‘Take your time, it doesn’t matter if you get the next part to me in a day, a week, a month or more – I’m not going anywhere.’ He holds her gaze steadily, knowing that he’d never spoken truer words in his life, because there was nothing which would stop him from helping her, not when he’d spent so long building up this trust, he’d come too far to throw it all away now.

  ‘Don’t tell anyone – I mean, please don’t show anyone what I write I’m not – ready.’ She struggles with her words, pausing and pulling her hand from his, lacing it with her other hand and wringing them together nervously.

  ‘It’s ok I won’t show anyone until you’re ready for me to.’ He promises, ‘If you like you can keep hold of them.’ He holds it out to her, but she doesn’t move to take it.

  ‘No – no I’d rather you kept it.’ She catches his eye again and in that moment he understands, by writing these letter, putting it all down on paper and giving him the letters, she is passing a little of her burden away, and if she were to take the letter back, she would feel like she had to carry all the pain with her, alone again.

  ‘That’s ok too.’

  ‘You must think I’m being really silly.’

  ‘You know that I don’t, I never would.’ He lowers his voice, he was about to say that he thinks she is extraordinary, but thinks better of it, because it could so easily bring up bad memories for her, she could so easily break down in front of him, and he’s seen that too many times, he doesn’t ever want to be the one to bring her to tears.

  ‘I think I’ll rest for a while.’ She can’t keep talking, it’s still too much for her, the effort of letting somebody get close to her, the walls are coming back up, and the issues with trust are lining themselves on her small face, she stretches her legs out in front of herself and pulls the blanket up, covering the black jeans she’s wearing with a long white tank top.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then.’ He stands up and folds her letter up, tucking it safely into the pocket of his blazer, which was hanging on the back of the chair next to her bed, the chair that he always sat in, and had been sitting in for the past few hours. He folds the jacket over his arm and then rests his hand on her arm lightly, ‘Three o’clock?’

  ‘I’ll be here.’ Her attempt at a joke brings a small smile to her face, which in turn brings one to his, but hers is a little sadder and more withdrawn, because she’s been here for the past few months, and there aren’t any plans for her to leave yet. He smiles reassuringly then turns to leave, but her voice brings him back. ‘Oliver?’

  ‘Yeah,’ He turns in the doorway to look at her, his brown eyes taking in the scared look on her face.

  ‘You won’t be late tomorrow?’

  ‘No, three o’clock sharp, I promise.’ He holds her gaze and she nods, breathing out a sigh of relief. He leaves the room and makes his way out to the parking lot, he’d finished his shift over an hour ago, but he’d agreed with his boss that he could stay late each day, and carry out these sessions with River, even though his boss and the other staff thought he was crazy, because most days he would just sit there with her in silence. He would prove them wrong though, he would prove that what he was doing wasn’t crazy.

  Oliver is just about to put his keys into the door of his apartment, when it’s pulled open from inside.

  ‘I thought that was you, come in and sit down. I made a vegetable curry.’ Amanda ushers her confused brother into the room, which is an open plan room, consisting of a small lounge, a bed in the corner, a desk by the window and a small kitchen, the only room that is separate is the bathroom. The apartment is cluttered with books, papers, music and a few pieces of clothing.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ He stands in the doorway for a second, looking around himself, ‘And how did you get in?’

  ‘I flew in from San Diego this morning, and keeping a spare key under your mat isn’t exactly original, I thought you were meant to be the smart one.’ Amanda grabs his arm and pulls him into the room.

  ‘Did I know you were coming?’ He
sits down at the small oak table in his small kitchen, taking off his jacket and throwing it in the general direction of his brown leather couch.

  ‘No I’m a surprise.’

  ‘Is that what mom and dad said when they found out mom was having you.’ He smirks.

  ‘Shut up.’ She places a plate of food in front of him, then sits herself down opposite and stares over at him, ‘So,’

  ‘Why are you really here Amanda?’ He moves his fork around the plate, without picking anything up. She avoids his gaze and lifts her shoulders slightly in a dismissive shrug.

  ‘To visit you,’

  ‘Come on you can do better than that, you may be my big sister but that doesn’t mean you can fool me, why are you really here?’ He drops the fork and waits for her reply, her gaze shifts towards a picture on coffee table, she hadn’t meant to but subconsciously her eyes had betrayed her thoughts, he follows her gaze.

  ‘Ah mom and dad sent you.’ He picks up his fork again and begins to eat.

  ‘They’re worried about you.’ She defends raising her arms up, then dropping them down again in one quick movement.

  ‘Why? I’m fine, busy at the hospital but fine.’ It’s his turn to shrug his shoulders evasively, ‘they have no reason to be worried, and especially not enough reason to call you from San Diego, to break into my apartment and cook me dinner.’