Her eyes flickered open to a pale blue room containing too many beeping noises and needles far too shallow into her skin to be heroine. “Olive, you overdosed on pills at a rave you attended last night. We had to pump your stomach and if we had waited any longer to do so- well- anyways. You need help” said the doctor staring into Olive’s sunken eyes. She wore caked makeup, much too dark for her skin to conceal the pits she called eye sockets. Hair greasy, yet frizzy and clothed in a hospital gown, she sat up from the bed connected to dozens of wires and tubes and indifferently said, “Fine.” “Thank you for your cooperation,” “Of course” she added. Olive couldn’t care less about what the doctor had to say, only that she was going to charge the medical bill to her parents, walk out of the hospital and take that damn makeup off, and attend the party she had been planning to go to for…since last… night? She wasn’t sure, but knew that the only way to escape the pain for the longest amount of time was to maybe find a way out. With drugs, alcohol, pills, even suicide? She didn’t care at this point and just longed to escape. Plus she had been working on the streets every night as a “short-time-lover” (she liked to call herself), and couldn’t afford new medication unless she was determined to love the unloving. If she couldn’t make herself happy, she had to help someone’s happiness, right?
“Oh my God, Olive” her mother said, almost hyperventilating. ‘This again,” Olive thought as she rolled her deep, green eyes. “Sweet angel,” said her father with tears in his eyes. “You have to stop this Olive. This can’t go long any longer.” ‘Trust me, I have plans to end things’ she thought pessimistically. “Olive dear,” her mother pleaded, “Please listen. We have tried and tried to help you and nothing seems *short breath* to be *short breath* working!” Burying her head into Olive’s fathers arms, she let out a loud sob which Olive winced at. “Jesus mom, I’m fine,” said Olive as she rolled her eyes once more. “I can’t Robert” Olive heard her mother say muffled by her father’s sleek suit jacket. “You’re going to a psychiatrist and your mother and I are taking you today. I’ve made arrangements. The psychiatrist you will be seeing is a good friend of mine named Dr. Charcot. I’m sure he would be fine with it if you called him James.” “Okay” Olive replied obediently, yet with indifference in her tone again. “We can go home and get you cleaned up, but we’re going straight to see Dr. Charcot as soon as you’re decent, Olive. Olive?” Olive sat staring at the teal and white tiles placed in an arrangement that bothered her slightly, but she still didn’t speak. “Olive, we are leaving” her father said sternly. She removed the IV’s and oxygen tubes, then stood up and walked out of the hospital room with the two sizes too big hospital gown draping her slim figure. Her parents cautiously walked behind her trying to direct her towards the car. She pushed the hospital entrance double-doors forcefully as her parents followed behind like two security guards for a dramatic celebrity. “M’am!” a nurse shouted, “She can’t take the gown!” Olive’s mother turned, shook her head, and put out her hand to stop the nurse from making the situation more dramatic. The nurse looked down at the ground and quietly entered the double-doors Olive had just exited. Stepping into the car and slamming the door, Olive sat in silence for few seconds before her parents entered the car. So many emotions bottled up: Guilt, anger, fear, embarrassment to name a few. ‘I can’t cry’ she thought. ‘I am not weak and they will never see any false side of me.’
Arriving home, she opened the front door to see the counter flooded with dozens of letters with the transparent rectangle recipient labels with… not her name so she paid no attention to them. Walking up the recently carpeted stairs, she arrived at the top and looked in the mirror that had Exodus 20:12 engraved into it, which made no sense because her family was in no way religious at all. But she examined her face covered in acne and smudged mascara which she had planned to wipe off. “Olive hurry! You’re scheduled to see Dr. Charcot at 2:30!” ‘2:10. S***’ she thought. She quickly rubbed off her makeup with the sulfuric-smelling tap water, brushed her matted hair, and escaped the disgusting hospital gown. She carefully selected her matching lace lingerie ahead of time for the night that was to come, and covered up with a red sweatshirt and blue jeans. She walked down the stairs and into the kitchen where she leaned against the counter and waited for her parents to notice her presence. “Olive!!!” her mother screamed walking into the kitchen paying no attention to nothing but buttoning her coat. Staring at the fireplace, Olive didn’t move nor speak. “Jesus Olive, I mean jeez, could you at least respond to me when I call for you?” Olive’s mother said startled by her presence. “I’m ready” she responded. Her mother rolled her eyes, grabbed the car keys and opened the back door, waiting for Olive to follow behind which surprisingly, she did.
Olive wanted to drive, but her mother refused due to her lack of responsibility in all areas of her decision making. They drove quickly to get to Dr. Charcot’s office, due to the fact that his office was 25 minutes away. But Olive’s father and Dr. Charcot were friends since high school, and Olive’s parents only wanted the best help for her. Pulling up to the brick building, Olive slumped down into the passenger’s seat. “Olive, get up. This is only going to help you. Let’s go before your appointment is cancelled because of our late arrival.” Sarcastically smiling, Olive got out of the car, slammed the door, and walked in the building without paying any attention to her mother following close behind. Olive’s mother sped up to catch up to Olive and to the secretary at the front desk. “Hi, my name’s Carmen Acker and my daughter, Olive, has an appointment with Dr. Charcot at 2:30.” “Let’s see…” said the secretary with long, red, acrylic nails, “Yep! Olive you’re all set. Dr. Charcot’s room will be down the hall, first door on the left.” “Thank you,” said Olive’s mother, smiling as Olive walked slowly down the beige hall. “Bye Olive! I’ll see you at 3:30.” No response.
Turning the door handle, which looked like it hadn’t been touched since the 70’s, Olive opened the door to a room with glass walls and dark red bamboo flooring. Raising her eyes from the dark red bamboo flooring, there was Dr. Charcot. Slick, black hair, brown eyes, and thin pink lips. “Is that real gold?” Olive asked as she stared at the golden colored watch around his wrist. “Yes Olive. Thanks for the introduction. I’m Dr. Charcot,” he said whilst holding his tan hand out to shake. “Sure” Olive said with pink cheeks and sweaty palms. Dr. Charcot’s hand remained unshaken for five seconds, and he pulled it back into his suit jacket pocket. “So Olive, I see you’re an addict.” ‘You see?’ Olive thought. ‘S***, I probably have some massive tangle in my hair.’ “You see…?” Olive responded. “It says here,” as he held up a paper covered in check marks and emboldened words such as: PERCOCET, COCAINE, and MINOR. “Seventeen I see…” “Yes” said Olive slightly embarrassed, yet stern. “My, my, you are a, well, wild one.” “You could say” said Olive annoyed by Dr. Charcot’s comments. ‘I thought he was supposed to help me, not pick up and throw down my mistakes onto my shoulders again. “Sorry for commenting so much on these things on the paper. I just needed to confirm with the patient. That’s the law.” “It’s fine.” “Okay, well tell me about you and what’s going on in your life. This will never get to your parents. I know you’re probably questioning me on that because your father and I are close friends, but I won’t. That’s the policy here.” “Thanks I guess?” said Olive now wanting to abandon the room by smashing through one of the glass walls. “So, go on” urged Dr. Charcot. “Well,” Olive spoke, “I don’t really know where to start. I guess it all started in 8th grade. Boys, drugs, and alcohol. I got into the party scene at an early age and I was never really able to stop.”