Page 21 of Kill Me

The road in front of us looks like the builders’ gravel that people use for the roads when they can’t be bothered to put any more money into the project. The kind that gets your shoes and clothes dusty but brushing it off makes it worse. The crunch of the gravel under the tyres is a noise I would usually find soothing. Yet, in this moment, it’s haunting. The trepidation it builds within me is screaming at me to run.

Trees line the sides. Weeping willows are what most would call them, and because of the time of year, they’re at their most picturesque. The cascading branches are filled with fresh, vibrant green leaves. The evening has them dancing in the wind. The stumps aren’t quite dark brown, more greyish—my need to focus on details in times of stress, many would say, is a sign of neurodivergence; my mother would say, it’s just confirmation that I’m a broken individual.

The road appears to go on forever, the setting sun flitting in between the gaps of the willows, the glisten of the dew sparkling in the setting sun, and before I know it, the ball of light disappears, leaving behind nothing but the light from the moon and the shadows of the night.

“Dad, where are we? This isn’t a normal hospital. The woman on the speaker said that it was a mental hospital. I don’t need a mental hospital. Dad, please. Don’t leave me here. I promise, I’ll try harder to be good. I’ll be the girl you always wanted—” My words are cut off by the sight of a property in the foreground.

“Quinn—” My dad starts.

“No,” my mother interrupts. “I’ve had enough. The doctors here are top of their field. It’s costing us a lot of money to get you an appointment here, Quinn. Your dad has worked countless hours to provide you with the best care, and that’s what we are going to do.” As always, my mother has to have the last word.

The building in front of us gets bigger the closer we get to it. It’s pristine. A two-storey red brick property, with the details painted a contrasting clinical white, and warm, bright lights littering every part of it. A big matching red door, with two people in white uniforms standing outside and windows covering the majority of the front. They’re large panes, split into four quarters with white shutters on the outsides, and a balcony accompanies the first floor, adjoining the windows on the left to the windows on the right.

It’s welcoming.

There are big stone pillars in front of the red door, also painted white. The only way to describe the property is almost regal, a place that people would visit to tick off their National Trust passports. Definitely not what I would think of when I think of a doctor’s office.

Directly in front of the building is a water feature that seems to be a stand-in for a roundabout. As my dad turns the car so that we are level with the doors, the two staff members descend the steps. One is male, one is female.

My mother opens her door and proceeds to exit the vehicle. Eric releases a sigh, but it sounds different. Like he’s breathing a sigh of relief, while I’m still sitting here trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. My dad is stoic, but turns the ignition off and follows my mum to the boot of the car, nonetheless.

I hear the lock on the boot releasing, and the confusion hits. Why are they in the boot?

I open the door to be greeted by the male nurse. “Hello, Miss Burrows, welcome to Saving Hearts. We’re looking forward to helping you during your stay.”

“My what?”

“Your stay with us. By the end of your stay, we hope to have eradicated your issues and turned you into a functioning member of society.”

“Mum?”

“What now, Quinn?” My dad hauls a large suitcase out of the car, and he wheels it over to the female staff member.

“What are they talking about? You said this was an initial appointment!”

“Hi, Quinn, my name is Darla. I’m here to answer any questions you may have and help your transition into the facility be as smooth as possible.”

“My transition? I don’t understand!”

“Your parents have kindly raised the funds so you can receive in-patient treatment for your issues.”

“They can’t do that. Surely you need some kind of permission from me? A signature? I’m an adult.”

“Quinn! Don’t talk to the lady like that!”

“Well, usually, yes. But I am assured that they have medical power of attorney and have signed paperwork to that effect—”

Fuck, I forgot about that.

“You can fuck right off if you think I’m staying here!”

“I have the authority to restrain you if I see fit, Quinn, but I would rather we didn’t do that. I would prefer to keep this process civil,” Darla warns.

“Civil? What exactly is civil about your parents committing fraud to have you put into a mental hospital?”

“Fraud?” The male staff member pipes up. “Quinn, my name is Richard. I’m a senior member of the care staff. I can assure you that there is no fraud happening here. We’ve seen the paperwork.”

You can fuck right off, as well, you hoity-toity motherfucker.