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PENNY 2026
I can feel my soul leaving my body.
I’m not dying. Although, actually, in a way I am. Slowly. Day by day. Breath by breath.
Not only has Brianna faded away, but I have, too.
I couldn’t get my doctor to understand that I didn’t hear voices in my head. I heard one voice—Brianna’s. And my own, of course, but that goes without saying. I tried explaining that I wasn’t crazy—I just saw memories in my head like mini movies, and sometimes those memories weren’t always my own. I knew about patient-doctor confidentiality, so I told the doctor about my relationship with Alex. I explained how I felt like I was born loving him and how I searched for him when I was little. I told her how I only felt truly at home at Alex’s house. I told her about the instant bond I had with Cherry and Lily.
All that must mean something, right? I didn’t make it all up in my head.
Did I?
I thought Dr. Ripley would tell me it was okay and there was nothing at all to worry about—that these things happen sometimes and it’s rare and beautiful and special and I can just go home and go back to my life. But she didn’t. She pushed her glasses up her nose and told me in a very serious tone that I had a lot of work to do to get better. During our sessions, Dr. Ripley questioned all my beliefs, all my memories, all my little hopes and dreams, trying to make me rationalize why none of them could be true. Then she gave me more pills and sent me back to my room.
For the past six months, I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do. I took the meds. I shared all my feelings. I did yoga and breathing exercises. I went to group therapy. I called my parents every night. But each day I felt worse. It was like I was on a raft in the middle of the ocean, drifting farther and farther away from land. I knew soon I’d be so far out that I’d never be able to get back to shore.
A week ago, Londyn found me in our pale-blue bedroom. She sat on the edge of my bed and poked my shoulder.
“Are you breathing, Rose?” she asked. “Your face has been jammed into your pillow for hours.”
I muffled out a reply.
She grabbed my arms and rolled me over onto my back. My hair was a web around my face, and my eyelids were too heavy to open. I didn’t care.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I want to go home.” My voice was foreign to me. Lifeless and echoing between my ears.
“Why? It’s so peaceful here.”
It wasn’t to me. I was never anxious or depressed until I came here.
“I was peaceful at home, Londyn. There’s a lake and butterflies and rose bushes. There’s a porch with rocking chairs. At night, there’re owls that hoot and coyotes that sing. And the softest blanket.” I managed to open one eye to peer up at her. “There’re no soft blankets here. And it smells like bleach. At home it smells like rain, smoky wood, oil and Alex. I miss his smell. And his smile. I miss him so much.”
Alex was starting to fade too, blurring away like a dream.
“Do you really want to get out of here?” Londyn asked.
“Yes. More than anything.”
“Then tell them what they want to hear.”
I forced my other eye open to scrutinize her. I couldn’t always believe everything Londyn said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You have to stop telling them everything you’re thinking and feeling.”
“But isn’t that how I’m going to get better?”
“Obviously not, Rose, because they think you’re batshit crazy.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Tell them you realize it was all a fantasy you made up. Tell them you see now that none of it was real. You have to be convincing, though. You don’t want them to see that you’re just saying the right things to get out. The doctors are smart. Are you a good actor? Can you do that?”
I swallowed past the nervousness. “I think I can.”
“I really don’t want you to leave here, though. I like you. My last roomie used to talk in her sleep all night about giant cookies chasing her. When she was awake, she was constantly telling me the aliens were coming to get us and we had to wear hats so they couldn’t find us. You’re so normal compared to her, even if you think you’re a dead person.”
“I don’t think I’m a dead person.”
Her brow rose. “Yes, you do.”
I sat up and combed my stringy hair with my fingers. “No, I don’t. I think I used to be someone else who was alive before me, but I’m me now. It’s different.”
She tsk’d and shook her head. “See what I mean? That’s not convincing enough. You still sound like a nutter.”
