I probably shouldn’t be writing this.
I’ve kept this story to myself for long enough, though, and I don’t have anywhere else I can put it anonymously where people can see it. So, here I am.
This story takes place in the summer of 1996, when I was eleven years old. I was staying in an “inpatient facility”, as they called it, named Willow Grove. It’s shut down now, and I can’t say I’m surprised. It was practically ripping at the seams when I was there, eighteen years ago. There was plaster falling off the walls, it was cold and drafty, and the bathrooms… well, we just won’t go there. There seemed to be no money in the place whatsoever, although I remember thinking that the nurses were quite nice, even if the place was a bit understaffed.
At the time, I was a ward of the state because my mother had just upped and gone one day, leaving me alone. I was an only child. I only remember bits and pieces of my life with my mother, most of them being bad bits and pieces. I had behavioral problems, that sort of thing, along with a few other more serious problems. In the five years I had been in care, though, I was making progress. When the events of this particular summer happened, I was well on my way to feeling normal for the first time since, well, ever.
I was a lonely kid, though. There weren’t many children my age where I was, and the ones who were my age were boys that wanted nothing to do with me. That’s why, when I heard that there was a new girl about my age joining the ward, I was excited. I remember asking my nurse if I could meet her, if she’d be up for that. I just wanted a friend. She frowned at me, and walked away.
Her name was Elizabeth, and she was eleven, just like me. She was small and skinny, with curly blonde hair. She looked like one of those creepy Victorian dolls, that people often give to little girls. We were instant friends. The first time I spoke to her, we were outside.
The hospital I was in had a large garden, with some picnic benches and trees. I liked going out there because it cleared my mind. Elizabeth was sitting off to the side, away from everyone else underneath a large chestnut tree. She was alone.
I sat down beside her, and began making conversation. I don’t really remember the conversation – it was probably unimportant anyway. All I remember was the look on her face – she looked like she was about to cry, but not a sad kind of cry? She looked like she was about to cry happy tears, like she couldn’t believe that someone was actually talking to her. I figured she could use a friend just as much as I could. I called her Beth, and she liked that.
I spent as much time as I could with her. I have to say, she was a good friend to me, all things considered. She gave me a lot of advice about my situation, and she listened to me whenever I needed to get things off of my chest. Time went on though, and I wondered why we could never meet in her room. The ward we were in was small, and each patient had their own room. Elizabeth would show up to my room uninvited, but I was never allowed inside her room. I didn’t even know where it was. Whenever I would ask if we could play in her room, she’d shake her head and say, “You won’t like it in there.”
Over time, I realised that the nurses and doctors didn’t really like me being friends with Elizabeth. They’d sigh whenever I mentioned her and when I told my psychologist about our friendship for the first time, he raised his eyebrows a little bit and said, “A girl called Elizabeth? In this ward? Oh my.” and chuckled a little bit. As time went on though, he started pressing me about her, asking weird questions about what we did when we were together, and how she made me feel. It was strange.
He asked me if I’d ever been in her room.
I said no.
He asked me if she was friends with any of the other children.
I said no.
He stratched his beard.
He asked me if I was sure she was real.
I didn’t answer. He thought she was my imaginary friend. My cheeks burned red.
But she was real, wasn’t she? She had to be. Didn’t she?
But truthfully? I had never seen her interact with anyone who wasn’t me. I had never seen anybody else ever acknowledge her existence. I couldn’t even remember how I had originally heard she was coming to the ward. Did someone tell me, or did I make it up in my head?
I had my twelfth birthday on the ward. The nurses brought me in a cake, while Elizabeth stood in the corner of my room, yet again ignored by others. She stared at me as I blew out my candles, and made my wish:
Please let her be real.
It was pretty soon after my birthday that Elizabeth started to change. I didn’t have as much patience for her as I used to, and she didn’t like it. The tension between us came to a head one day when I snapped at her and said,
“You’re not even real!”
She stopped what she was doing and looked me dead in the eyes, hurt written all over her face. Her face contorted in a mixture of anger and pain.
“I am real!”
We stood looking at each other for a few seconds, until she turned and ran away, disappearing behind some trees. I didn’t go after her, and I didn’t see her again for the rest of the day.
I awoke that night to find her standing over my bed, wide eyed and anxious looking.
“Come with me. I… I want to show you my room.”
I was annoyed at being woken up, and even more annoyed that she wanted to bring me out of my room. I could get in trouble if I was found outside of my room after lights out. But, she persisted, and I reluctantly followed her out into the hallway. I figured the sooner I played along with what she wanted, the sooner I could get back into bed.
She led me down the hall, and as we passed the last room on the ward I quickly realized that wherever her “room” was, it was not on the ward.
“Hey, Beth… where are we going?”
She said nothing, but kept walking, and I had no choice but to follow her.
We went down some stairs, and eventually we ended up outside a door that led to the basement. I was starting to panic a little. I didn’t want to get in trouble, and I sure as hell didn’t want to go into that basement.
Elizabeth opened the door, and started walking down the stairs. After taking a deep breath, I followed.
After a few minutes of walking, she stopped in front of a safe. It was old and rusted, and looked like it had been there for a very long time. She looked at me, and I could see that there were tears in her eyes.
“Open it.”
I fiddled with the handle, not expecting anything to happen, and found it was unlocked. It opened easily.
“See? I am real.”
I was shipped off to a new hospital, a newer, better staffed one. I never saw Elizabeth again.
—
Credits to: willow_grove
Comments