OCD-Odd and Certainly Different

This is a small novel I wrote on what it's like to have OCD. This is not meant to generalise, this is to help people who don't have to endure it understand it more.

OCD

OCD is a mental health disorder that occurs when a person gets caught in a cycle of obsessions and compulsions.

This book explores different aspects of certain mental health disorders. This is not meant to generalize, this is meant to help people understand under a new light the experiences of people with these differences.

This book is dedicated to the

People who suffer from any

Mental health disorder. To the

People who often felt like giving

Up. Don’t give in. Stick it out.

Chapter One

Eden Rivera

Rain drops in the morning, I could smell the humidity. Running my fingers through my tangled hair, wiping my nose with the tissue I kept so closely. Blowing spit bubbles into my kleenex, checking the time. The bus better hurry, I thought to myself. A jolt of energy made its way up my system as I saw the blue lights coming over the horizon. An crowded bus with sticky children and grumpy adults stopped right at my feet, and I took a step. Pushing my way past strangers, I made it to a seat. Scanning it with my eyes for any stain or morsel of food. Another spit into my kleenex, my mouth was salivating. This time, I wiped it on my shirt and planned to say my water bottle broke and spilled. My eyes began twitching as a baby began to cry. The stops on the bus weren’t coming fast enough, my little voice was telling me to get out. I dug my nails into the palm of my hand as the rush of coldness sank its claws into my head. I could throw that baby outside onto the street. It's just so easy, the stroller is right there said the voice in my head. Pushing it back and ignoring it, I drummed my fingers on my knee. C’mon, c’mon aren’t we at my stop yet? This has to be the longest bus ride ever. I checked the time again. Another spit onto my shirt. Making wrinkles with my forehead, and attempting to scratch them away, one of my favourite past times. I checked the time again. Another spit into my kleenex. One stop left, I told myself. I only have to endure this for one more stop. My voices were arguing, and they were beginning to get on my nerves. Checked the time. I tensed up my head as the floodgates in my brain flew open. Thoughts, commands, musings. Pulling out my thermometer, I checked my temperature. Thirty seven point two, slightly above average. I made a mental note and filed it away to check in a few minutes. Another spit into my kleenex. I stepped off the bus and looked ahead in the busy streets and crowded sidewalks. Behind myself I could feel a specific energy. There was someone out to threaten my safety behind me. I turned around, no one. With instinct, I ran across the street to my school. I saw my best friend Denise and ran towards her with open arms. In this short amount of time, I stuffed my moist kleenex in my pocket, felt my forehead to ensure I wasn’t getting sick, filed away the time and pulled out her file from my scattered head. Denise: Likes puppies, singing, and Heath Brosman

Denise: Dislikes vanilla cupcakes, spinach and history class

This wasn’t enough. I had to go deeper.

Worker #254980

In precisely two point five seconds I appeared distant from reality and found myself in a bureaucratic office with rows of drawers and filled with filing systems. I walked carefully and quietly to not disturb the other workers. Looking at the map I could determine where I was and my location. I had to make a right from homework and turn left and school teachers. Denise appeared to be the first row of drawers in the friends section. Next to Lara, Heather, and a detailed description of the friends sitcom. I waved at various workers and made my way to Denise's row. Ex-boyfriends, no that’s not it. Math test scores, nope not it either. Here we go. The newly updated script. A blank page. Perfect. I followed my steps back to my entrance and looked once again at the map. Straight ahead to the screen room number one. I showed my pass to the doorman. The screen room number one consisted of a single chair, a big screen covering the walls, a table, a microphone and a big red button next to a control system. I took my seat, and pressed the red button. The screen flashed and I could see the red brick wall, as well as Denise, right in front of me.

Denise: “Hi Eden!”

On the blank page in front of me appeared the word, hi. I said that into the microphone.

Me: Hi.

I adjusted the volume and the clarity.

Denise:”How do you think you did on the math test? I’m so scared for my results! And Heath sits next to me, he might not want me if he thinks I’m dumb.”

On the script read my next line.

Me:”Yeah. I hope you do well.”

Amazing. Beautifully said.

We went back and forth with the banter and small talk until she left for class. The script was long, and full, so I pressed a black button and out came a slot. I dropped it in, since all of the used scripts fall into that slot. Turning away, I came out of the screen room and went back out into the hall. Hearing voices, I peaked back in the screen room number one. There was no one there. I wondered where those voices could be coming from. I walked past information, past movie references, and past sarcastic humour. I once got very lost in the sarcastic humor hall, but the workers there were not particularly helpful in getting me out. After walking for what seemed like eternity, I finally found the source of the voices. The conference hall. All of the main voices spent their hours in the conference hall talking about everything. Everything they see, everything they here. Suddenly I heard a wiring noise that seemed to drone on for minutes. It was the caged voice. With the most cruel, violent, dark, and demeaning remarks. Spending her existence locked in a cage. With a broken microphone. Everytime she tried to speak, a wiring noise would play, drowning her out. I took a peek inside the conference area, but hastily turned away, not to be caught. It was time for my daily routine. The screen room was a privilege, alas, my real work is not nearly as interesting.

I sat in my boring chair, surrounded by boring workers, and had only a button, a timer, and a table. Everytime the timer goes off (every seventy seconds) I press the button marked “spit”.

Regular as clockwork.

I can spend my life complaining about my mundane repetitive job, however the whole department would be in chaos if it weren’t for the rituals. In the clock room, we as workers are responsible for all on the minute rituals. No one ever screws up, no one ever leaves.

Regular as clockwork.

Chapter Two

Worker #254980

Today was different. Anything slightly off from the routine I grew accustomed to throws the whole system off. I love routines, structure, plans. Sitting at my table, pressing the button titled “spit” every seventy seconds. Occasionally being chosen to man one of the screen rooms. Boring it may be, I like boring. Boring doesn’t welcome change, just the way I like it. Change means having to adapt to a whole new environment. Today was different. Today something changed.

The workers gathered around a table for the weekly report. Monitoring statistics, keeping rituals the same. Once something gets thrown off, more and more workers are added to help with the rituals. In this particular weekly report, everything was going according to plan. That is until the alarm came on. No one was quite sure what the alarm meant. But we knew the drill. Everyone to their designated stations, in lockdown. The timers for the rituals are doubled to ensure everything is alright in the exterior of the department. I pressed the button every thirty five seconds, everything seemed to be going smoothly at my station. Until the timer began speeding up. I could barely keep up with the timer, it was beeping every tenth of a second. Suddenly, the whole room shut down. We were in lock down.

The interior had overloaded so someone had to shut down the exterior to ensure nothing went terribly wrong. This is what we call a “sensory overload”.

We have no glitches in our system, I thought. Why are we on lockdown? The workers began to swarm out of their stations into a frenzy. I followed the map to see what the voices in the conference room were talking about.

Papers were being thrown around, drawers were being flung out of cabinets, screaming, shouting, disorder.

The conference room had been blocked off with a neurological barrier. Pushing past workers, I caught a glimpse inside. The voices were silent with shock. Specialized workers came into the scene and began talking using words I couldn’t understand. They pushed past us and ordered us immediately to our stations, but not to operate anything.

It was revealed later the cause for the alarm and the lockdown. The caged voice had escaped.

Until this problem was solved, we were to remain calm and report back to our stations. I walked in the dark hallway, took a breath of relief that order was finally being restored. Despite the attempt to restore order, this had changed the system.

Everything was unpredictable. The timers were broken, the screens often became blurred, we had to evacuate contents in another department in hopes of riding the glitch.

I unfortunately was moved into another job. Filing. Whatever I was given to file was different, which angered me. I was not built to do this. But perhaps in time, I could adjust to the stability. We were warned that we may be moved from job to job. The routine of constant change? I had no choice but to adapt.

Filing became second nature after a while. Every relapse I would be given papers that needed to be filed away in the correct cabinet, drawer, and file. I would receive scripts, statistical data, lists, new references, and all had to be filed away. I never screwed up, I never hesitated, I never thought twice.

Some time had passed and I was moved once again to another job. Analysing statistics and collecting data. This particular job had quite a few workers. I was in charge of monitoring the temperature of the interior every forty minutes. This made me quite content, as it was similar to my last job.

I had been bouncing back and forth between jobs, until I was assigned reading scripts in the screen room.

This task was fairly simple, but I never knew who would appear on the screen. I was not groomed for dealing with the unknown.

The words would appear on the script, and I would read them out loudly and clearly into the microphone.

I had grown to love my job. I hoped to never be moved, and I thought there was a pretty good chance since order had been restored for a while. Sadly it was almost impossible to detect where the caged voice was. She was elusive, not to mention clever. She knew better not to speak in broad daylight. But the real mystery was as followed… Who let her out? She could not have escaped from the inside of her cage, only a powerful being, someone above the workers abilities could unlock her cage. Someone was keeping the caged voice on a leash close by. This mystery was a job for… Someone else. I know better than not to tangle with the unknown.

I was offered a permanent position in the screen room, due to my hard work and determination to restore order. I accepted graciously. Permanent is my favourite word of all the hundreds of thousands of words I know.

Chapter Three

Eden Rivera

I woke up to the sound of rain hitting the window, and the pounding of a migraine. I put on my favourite socks, black. I threw on a black sweater with my black leggings and combed my dark brown hair. Black is my favourite colour, though some may call it a shade. If water spills of if I wet myself it is hardly noticeable. Whereas if I were to wear even dark brown, a stain would be dreadfully noticeable. I picked up my kleenexes from the night before and threw them all in the trash. Today was a Thursday which means I have a history quiz on the first world war. I like history. History isn’t about thinking about the problems that could arise in the future. It’s learning about things we can’t change since they are in the past. That’s why I like history.

I ate the scrambled eggs and toast with blueberry and red currant jam my mom had made me for breakfast. She ruffled my short brown hair and packed me my favourite sandwich for lunch, only the sandwich that she makes, no one else can make it the same. Jack cheese on pumpernickel bread with butter, salami, onions, and two tomato slices. My old nanny Mariella tried to make it for me before school but she would make the tomato slices too thick, or melt the cheese which makes me lose my appetite completely. I cried until she threw her apron on the ground and announced she was quitting. Ever since then, mom makes my sandwiches. I had a new nanny that takes care of me after school while my mom is at work. Her name is Alessandra. She smells like vanilla frosting and grape juice. Her hair is always in a braid which tangles with my mind. Denise once tried to teach me how to braid, but it was too complicated. Three chunks of hair going around each other? I just kept my hair in a ponytail or left it down. Alessandra helped me study for this test so I felt prepared. But this was an oral test and I do hate speaking in front of people, I tend to panic and shake. Mom picked up my bag, filled it with my books and puzzles and sent me off to school with a kiss of the tip of my nose.

Worker #254980

My relapse began with sitting for hours in front of the screen waiting for conversation to began. I had brought it scripts for different people that I would possibly have an encounter with. Denise, Lara, Heather, Mrs.Simmons, Mr.Ivan. Looking into the screen, I could see the classroom, the other departments had managed to navigate through the hustle and bustle in the school without coming into contact with anyone we may know. Finally, it had come time for history class. The oral test. I pulled up the script for Mrs.Simmons, the history teacher. I turned up the volume and listened carefully to her words and her tone.

Mrs.Simmons: “Eden, why don’t you come to the front of the class.”

I waited patiently for the first question.

Mrs.Simmons:”Who fought in the Boer War?”

On the blank script, there was no response.

Mrs.Simmons:”Eden dear you have twenty seconds left.”

I flipped through the papers and looked hastily for an answer. The Boer War. The script was still blank. I flipped and turned pages until I had checked every paper regarding history. Frazzled, I knew what had to be done. So I pressed the big red button, and got out of the situation.

Eden Rivera

I just stood there, until I had the urge to run out of the classroom. I ran to the bathroom and spit frantically onto my shirt and pants. I took my temperature. Thirty eight point five. I worked myself into a frenzy and convinced myself I was sick. With a fever. I pressed my back up against the mall and began moaning. I felt like gagging the whole time, and I clenched my fists. I kept muttering “no, no, no” over and over again.

Riley Parkinson opened the bathroom door and found me moaning, covered in my own spit. She ran out, and came back later with the guidance counsellor, Ms.Graves. She tried to help me up, but I remained in my position. Crying, I could taste the salty tears in my mouth, which only made me gag more. After ten minutes, I calmed down and felt my beating heart.

Ms.Graves took me down to the office and called mom first. I begged her not to, since mom was at work and warned me not to disturb her. After being hung up on, Ms.Graves called Alessandra, who came to pick me up.

She smelled like whiskey, which meant she was with her boyfriend before she go the call. We were silent in the car ride home, and when I got to my parents room, I turned on the television and watched until my eyes became heavy. I slept under the weight of my mom’s blanket.

Worker #254980

I was panicked. I had just been offered a permanent placement. Not to mention I had screwed over every department because of my mistake. The screen had gone black, which means we were in between relapses. I opened the slot and threw the papers in there. I hastily ran out of the room.

The hall was swarmed with workers, panicked, shouting, and in disarray. Cabinets were tipped over, drawers flung open. Everyone was scrambling, trying to figure out what to do once the relapse started up. The caged voice was still not found. She had not wreaked havoc with her voice, but from what I here, it is suspected she intentionally removed the history files from their designated drawer in hopes to screw up the rhythm. Ever since the caged voice had been released, the other voices had been silent. There was no longer any reassurance that everything would be alright. The voices were silent.

I had been given orders by my superiors to remain in the screen room at all times. Scripts would be delivered to me, but I must ensure the caged voice did not enter the room and take over.

Chapter Four

Eden Rivera

Once I had woken up from my nap, Alessandra was downstairs making popcorn. She unwrapped my sandwich from lunch and cut it into triangles. She also brought me the ketchup bottle for my popcorn. I mixed the warm popcorn with the cold ketchup until each kernel was coated with red. I loved whenever she was here. She was comforting and knew me very well. Alessandra began unpacking my bag and pulling out my history notes.

My stomach turned. I would have to take the test over again tomorrow. My mouth began to salivate. I wiped my foaming saliva from my mouth with my thumb and smeared it on my sweater.

I missed when dad was around. He would always call my teachers and ask them if I could sit the test in the guidance area next to the office. Mom didn’t like the idea of me being treated differently than the other kids. Or if I insisted something was wrong with myself or others. She always got mad at me, when I would ask “mommy what’s wrong with those kids” to the kids in a wheelchair. In my limited defence, I was only five years old. She would tell me to be quiet, and tell me they were just different. When she learned I had odd tendencies and would fluster like no one she’s ever seen, I asked her if I was different like the kids in the wheelchair. She would tell me to be quiet, and tell me I was normal. This was just a phase. I’m not stupid. I get good grades and I’ve read almost every book in my school library. I have also observed the way other people act. Most don’t have these rituals, these voices, this level of heightened anxiety. I know I’m not normal. But that’s okay. Because mom tells me that nothing is wrong with me, I know I’m just different. And different can be good. I talk about my problems to Alessandra. She likes to hear about them because, and I quote, it helps her escape her own crazy life and focus on someone else for a change. She helps me with my people skills. I am very sensitive, as she likes to say. Which is both good and bad. I care about other people, but I do get worked up and cry over very little things.

The front door opened and mom walked in with grocery bags. She came into the kitchen and wiped her greasy hands on her blouse. I didn’t say anything or ask about dinner since her under eye bags looked darker than ever. Mom was exhausted. Alessandra took my dishes into the sink and picked up and left.

Mom collapsed on the couch and slept. She talked while she slept, and I found it easier to have a conversation with her sleep talking.

Mom: “Taxes…”

Me:”Don’t worry mom, they aren’t due for another two weeks. You have plenty of time.”

Mom:”Beatrice...”

Me:”I know, you have to go visit Auntie Beatrice and you really don’t like the smell of her house or her new boyfriend. But it will be nice to leave the city.”

Mom: “Gene…”

I paused. Gene was dad’s name. Actually it was his nickname. His real name is Bob Gene Rivera.

Me:”What about dad?”

Mom:”Miss him. I miss him.”

I felt a pain in my stomach. Dad moved out for his girlfriend in the city. I still visited him occasionally, but I could never look his girlfriend in the eye. She wasn’t evil or anything. Mom and dad were already split up, but everytime I see her, it all comes screaming back to me. When mom broke glasses, when dad packed a suitcase and threatened to take me with him.

Me:”I know you do. But he’s moved on. You should too.”

Some part of me knew she was awake. Which is why I didn’t say what I actually thought.

I took a quilt from the wicker basket next to the couch and draped it over her. Shortly after, Alessandra came back because she forgot her purse in the kitchen. She saw mom was asleep and I was sitting on the floor next to her, so she took out my history notes and told me she would make me dinner, and then we would study together.

I reviewed the information on my own, taking mental pictures and storing it away in the correct parts of my brain. Alessandra made me dinner using loose odds and ends from the fridge. I supervised her of course, and told her exactly the way I like things prepared. Sometimes she would mess up and I would want to cry, but I held back the tears and spit on my sweater to calm me down.

She made me kraft dinner with defrosted peas and carrots. I asked for orange juice, but we only had apple. I really wanted something orange flavoured so I asked her if she would get me mom’s cold medicine that is orange flavoured. She said no. But instead promised me for dessert she would cut up slices of oranges. I told her it wasn’t the same, but that was okay.

By the end of the night I was sure I knew all of the history material. I wished I had the voices in my head tell me it was going to be alright. Sometimes, after the day is done, I pretend to talk to my past self and tell me how the day went. To prepare my past self. But alas, there was no voice to tell me everything was going to be alright. I only had the warmth of the heated up orange juice Alessandra bought for me while I reviewed my notes. It was warm and sweet until the last drop.

Chapter Five

Worker #254980

This relapse was going pretty easy. I no longer had to follow the map and fetch every script of paper that I could possibly need and sort through them at high speed. I just waited in the screen room, and the papers were delivered to me. I felt important. The scripts had been working properly so far. But today, I was being put in a situation I had been put in yesterday. Needless to say I didn’t handle that situation particularly well.

My superiors needed to ensure I wouldn’t freak out in that situation and say something I shouldn’t into the microphone, as last relapse, flustered and looking for papers I started muttering “no, no, no”. So they decided to make a modification in my makeup. I was now built to read anything that appears on the script, and only what appears on the script.

There was a big part of me that missed the old routine. Pressing a button. That was all I had to do.

In front of me, I had all the papers I would possibly need.

I could see Mrs.Simmons and hear her heavy voice through the speakers on the side of the screen.

Mrs.Simmons: “Eden, why don’t you start us off? Perhaps you can answer three questions today and the other three tomorrow?”

I was ready with my script in hand.

Mrs.Simmons:”Who fought in the Boer War?”

I hesitated, as the words did not appear on the page until later. The script showed me the words, the tone, and the timing.

Eden:”I HATE THIS CLASS I HATE ALL OF YOU I WISH YOU ALL WERE DEAD! I WISH I WAS DEAD TOO! I SHOULD TAKE SCISSORS AND STAB MYSELF IN THE NECK! WHO’S GOING TO STOP ME?!”

I was baffled by what I was reading on the script. My instincts told me to shut this down, but the words kept coming on the page, and I was modified to read anything that is written.

Eden:”NO ONE CARES ABOUT ME! NOT MY MOM NOT MY DAD NOT EVEN MY NANNY!”

Before I could say anything else, workers burst through the door and pressed the big red button. They had shut it down.

We had some time, so my superiors called a meeting. All workers must attend.

It was believed that the caged voice hijacked the scripts to say those awful words. And me, having no choice but to say it, would be her voice. She was smart, but where was she? Why was she doing this? Who was helping her?

My superior assured us all scripts would be checked by her to be sure that this never happens again. I couldn’t help but wonder if the other voices new where she was. Perhaps they were protecting her. Perhaps they were the ones who let her out. We all understood the baseline. If she reached the console, the battle could be over. If she becomes the primary voice in the main console she can give orders, orders we cannot drown out with a wiring noise. Orders, we have no other choice but to oblige. It’s how we were built.

My superior announced that we would open the department back up, and everyone is to return to their stations.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. I couldn’t find a reason why someone would release the caged voice. She is caged for a reason. If she gives orders she can bring down all the departments. All of the voices have that ability, but only one of them has that intention.

Could there have been a glitch all along? One nobody noticed? But why would everything spiral downwards now? Nothing was making sense to me.

I had never missed my old job as much as now. Uncomplicated.

All the relapses possible couldn’t work out this glitch. Something was wrong, terribly wrong and it was getting worse by the second. I just had to hope that the caged voice wouldn’t do anything drastic. Before I had more time to think, I was called in alone by my superior.

Chapter Six

Eden Rivera

The walls were painted bright pink. I hated pink. It showed stains to easily. Ms.Graves gave me a black licorice vine because she knows I love the colour black.

Ms.Graves:”Eden, do you feel like talking?”

I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk.

She sighed and took off her glasses and left them dangling on the golden chain she wore around her neck.

Ms.Graves:”Eden, why did you say all of those horrible things? To your classmates, to yourself?”

I shrugged my shoulders and nibbled on the vine.

My heart was pounding, and I felt like gagging so I pressed on the center of my wrist at a specific pressure point, like Alessandra had told me to do.

Ms.Graves was about to start a lecture, but was interrupted by the sound of the door flinging open. Mom was standing there, angry, exhausted, and overworked.

She grabbed me by the arm, I could feel her nails digging into my skin, which left little red crescent moons. She was silent the car ride home, but would not turn on the radio. I knew she could hear me spitting in the backseat, but she just ignored it.

Home had never felt so far away.

Mom dropped me off at home, and left again for work. I could see a slight glisten in her eyes, I knew I was a burden to her. I’m not stupid.

I spent the next hour sitting on my carpet doing my puzzles, waiting for Mom or Alessandra. No one came. Unsure of their phone numbers, I decided to go to sleep in mom’s bed. If her or Alessandra found me they would wake me and I would move. I drifted off with the licorice in my mouth.

When I woke up from my nap, I called out for someone. No one answered. I checked the time, and was startled to see it was eleven at night. I crawled back under the covers and began to moan. My mind was running wild, contemplating all of the possibilities. What if mom was kidnapped? What if she got into a car accident? What if she got in trouble with her boss?

I did what I thought was the best idea at the time, what both mom and Alessandra taught me to do in times when there's trouble. Call nine one one.

I used the phone, which I had never been allowed to use until today to dial the number. The waiting was painful, but I didn’t know what else to do.

Responder: “Nine one one what is your emergency?”

Me: “My name is Eden Rivera, my mom hasn’t come home from work, she was supposed to come four hours ago.

Responder: “Where is your current location?”

Me: “34 Hempfield Drive.”

Responder: “What is your mom’s name, what does she look like and where does she work?”

Me: “Her name is Elsa Rivera, she has dark brown hair, brown eyes, she was wearing a dark green jumpsuit. She works at SAKS near the restaurant with the big yellow M.”

Responder: “We’ll send out a search for her and an officer will be at your house promptly.”

She hung up, and I sat on the kitchen floor finishing my puzzle. It always calms me down.

A police officer burst through the door momentarily and reassured me everything would be alright.

Minutes later, my puzzle two pieces left from being complete, mom came in the door, but was so startled by the police officer with the gun, she dropped her grocery bags and screamed.

The search was called off, and mother yelled at the officer to leave.

I started crying because I knew exactly what was coming. A full blown storm.

Mom: “Eden, I don’t even know where to begin…”

She started to cry. Wail, actually. The whole waterworks, the dripping nose, the huffing voice.

Mom: “What’s wrong with you Eden? Why do you make my life so hard? Why do you do this?”

Her voice got louder, she started crying harder.

Mom: “You’re not different! You’re broken! You’re broken! You’re breaking me Eden I can’t do this anymore!”

I stopped crying. I wasn’t sure how to react to this. My mind went blank.

Mom: “I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this!”

Mom was muttering for a few minutes, which reminded me of how I uncontrollably muttered “no” when I was in distress.

I don’t know how long I was staring at her, watching her cry. Finally she collected herself, and cleared her throat.

Mom: “I don’t have to do this anymore.”

She wiped her nose with her sleeve and bent down to my level.

Mom: “Take my purple suitcase from my room and pack whatever you want. I’m taking you to daddy’s.”

My mind broken through the blank barrier and started, once again, racing with thoughts.

Me: “For how long?”

Mom: “For as long as I need.”

The next few minutes I tried hard to block out, as they mostly consisted of me heaving dark green bile.

Chapter Seven

Worker #254980

It was just me and my superior in the conference room. She look distressed. Drumming her fingers on the table, she began to speak.

Superior: “I’ve been observing you. For someone who has worked in rituals for the main part of her existence, you seem to adapt to change better than any worker I have ever seen. This wasn’t how you were built, this is just you. You’re special. During chaos, you went right to find the source of the problem, not to panicking. It’s quite intriguing actually. And I need you, to use your gift to help me. But I promise you. Helping me will help everyone. Would you like to restore order and fix this problem?”

Truthfully, many answers circled around me. Yes, of course. Find someone else. I’m not special, you must have the wrong worker. But I knew what the right answer was. I nodded.

Superior: “I modified your makeup, you have the ability to speak freely.”

I took a breath outwards. That was a relief.

Me: “What do you need me to help you with?”

Superior: “There is something I’ve known about every department. Only one other being knows the truth that was hidden for so long. There is something wrong with this. Everything. Everything you see around you. It was not a glitch, this has always been a dysfunctional system. The rituals, for example are not supposed to be a job. Other systems don’t have rituals. Other systems don’t have scripts and workers who are made up almost exactly the same. The system is broken. I’ve known it for a long time.”

She took a deep breath.

Superior: “I unleashed the caged voice. She is the only other being that knows the truth about this system. The reason why she was caged in the first place was because she told everyone the truth. No one wanted to believe, no one wants to accept change. She speaks out to gain attention, she wants people to notice her. I figured if I unleashed her, she would wreak enough havoc for beings on the outside, until they noticed something seemed off. To help fix this system.”

Everything started falling into place. That was why I had to say those horrible things. For attention.

Superior: “But it didn’t work. No one wants to admit there is a bigger problem than anything we’ve ever faced. It’s been here all along. I need you to help the caged voice find her way to the console. She will know what to do.”

I stood there, baffled. I didn’t know who to believe or what to do. For my entire existence I was to believe the caged voice was cruel who sprouts lies and violent comments no one needs to hear. But now I was asked to help her? It seemed crazy! But I struggled to find another reason as to why my superior would lie to me about this. She can’t lie, she isn’t programmed to. I had no choice.

Me: “Alright. I know this place inside out. I know where the console is, but first you need to show me where the caged voice has been hiding. I need to trust her.”

She nodded and escorted me out of the conference room.

While walking in crowded hallways, I couldn’t help but ponder. Am I the glitch? Somethings has been off this whole time, and I have been here this whole time. I wonder, I investigate even when I don’t mean to, I don’t always panic at the first sign of a problem. I had to trust my gut and continue forward. I would meet the caged voice, and we would all discover the mistakes in the system.

Chapter Eight

Eden Rivera

I really wish I had the chance to say goodbye to Alessandra. I didn’t know how long it would be until I saw her again. Mom was surprisingly calm, helping me pack, buying me an orange candy and black licorice for the drive. She told me dad was ecstatic to spend some time with his little girl. I’m not stupid. She was lying through her teeth.

Dad’s homewrecker was still in his house. Pouty chin, doughy eyes and crimson hair. I would not look her in the eye. Not now, not ever.

I filled my suitcase with books, drawing utensils, my yellow blanket I’ve had since I was a baby, my clothes, and of course, my puzzles. Mom put my suitcase in the car, and we were silent.

While driving, she turned on the radio, and even sung along to one of the songs. It hurt me how genuinely content she seemed. I was spitting in the backseat.

I sucked on the orange candy and gnawed on the licorice as I held back my tears. I couldn’t settle on one emotion which confused me greatly. I was happy mom would be free from me, being the burden that has weighed heavily on her shoulders for years. I was terrified of the big change my life was about to be faced with. A transfer of schools, living with dad in his expensive home and his gleaming car. I was sad and distant towards mom. Isn’t she supposed to love and care for me unconditionally? I was also hurt by how easy this was for her. To send away her baby girl. But I couldn’t stop replaying a scene in my head. She told me I wasn’t different. I was broken. I first learned the word broken when our record player stopped at a specific point in a song and made a droning noise. The noise lasted for twelve minutes. Mom told be this record player was broken, it should have never been made to play like this. In school, we often associated broken with mistake. Was I just a mistake? To mom I was. I was broken. And now I was breaking her.

She stopped the car and bought me orange juice. I examined the bottle carefully. I couldn’t drink it, but instead of throwing a fit, I merely didn’t take a sip.

She also gave me my second favourite sandwich with butter, roast beef, one slice of tomato, and half of a pickle.

After my lunch, I fell asleep and dreamed of crystal chandeliers, and glass vases filled with red roses. Dad’s house. In my dream, mom walked underneath the chandelier and talked to dad. As if nothing had changed. They hugged, they reminisced, and even kissed. Something was off, so I started having a meltdown. The second it began, the glass chandelier fell down and smashed into millions of pieces. The glass vases fell too, and there was a word that reverberated through the house. “Broken”. Everything was broken, shattered. I looked at mom’s face, covered in blood and cracks.

Mom: “You broke me Eden.”

Her voice hissed. I looked at dad. His face was also shattered. I saw a red haired princess descending the golden stairs. Her face was shattered. As if on cue, their faces all fell apart into shiny glass dust on the floor.

I walked across the glass, and found one vase was still intact. I picked it up and looked at myself, teary eyed. Cracks drawing patterns began to cover my face. Drops of blood pooled out onto the floor. I heard a voice, my own voice.

Voice: “You’re broken Eden. You’re a mistake.

I jolted awake, tears streaming down my face, gagging.

Mom: “My goodness Eden, you gave me quite a scare! Are you alright?”

I was covered in sweat and spit. My mouth was salivating uncontrollably. I nodded and dried myself with the stash of kleenex I kept in the glove compartment. Now I knew the truth. I was broken. I was a mistake. But before I could drown in guilt and self pity, we pulled up into a driveway with two golden lion statues welcoming us.

Chapter Nine

Eden Rivera

Mom gathered my belongings, and we walked towards the front door. Rang the doorbell and waited. I pressed my ear against the door, hoping to hear the sound of someone walking down the stairs, but mom told me that was rude.

A groomed man with combed back black hair and a blue blazer opened the door. I almost didn’t recognize him. My own father, funny isn’t it?

Dad carried my suitcase and my bags into the house, and half-heartedly greeted mom. Once he set my belongings down, he took a moment to look at me. Dark hair, olive toned skin, spit down my front, kleenex in hand, black leggings, black shirt, sucking on an orange candy. Nothing had changed.

Dad: “Hello Eden. It’s nice to see you.”

I nodded in acknowledgement. His blue eyes still sparkled. I’m glad he hadn’t lost that.

Mom: “Gene, why don’t you show Eden to her room. She will get comfortable and you and I can talk.”

He nodded in acknowledgement.

Dad: “Laney can bring her bags upstairs and show her to her room. LANEY! EDEN IS HERE SHOW HER TO HER ROOM PLEASE!”

My heart jumped up, and I started salivating again. Delaney or Laney Yong is the homewrecker. My dad’s girlfriend. I heard footsteps from above, and I averted my eyes.

From what I could tell, she was wearing bedazzled heels and had pale ankles. I refused to look up any further. She greeted me with a hug, and I couldn’t help but admit she smelled like daisies. Fresh ones, like dad used to grow in our home garden. She attempted to meet me at my eye level, but I kept moving my head.

Delaney: “Sorry Bob what did you want me to do?”

I looked up at mom. She had a triumphant expression, as if calling dad by a different nickname made her superior.

Dad: “Show Eden to her room and carry her belongings.”

Delaney: “My pleasure. Come along Eden, we have the cutest little room ready for you.”

I stared at my feet and walked behind her. Up the stairs, past the indoor pool, and right next to the television room. She dropped my bags in front of me.

Delaney: “Darling, when you’re ready you can join me in the television room. I would love to get acquainted.”

She left and shut the door. I looked up at my brand new room.

It had a pink canopy, with blue flowers over my new white bed with the ruffled blanket. The walls were painted a deep mauve and there was a white nightstand with gold polka dots and a phone holder. This proved useless, since I wasn’t allowed to have a phone at mom’s house. A glass vanity was in the corner with a big bowl of flowers and a compartment for my makeup. This proved useless since I had no makeup. I walked up to my bed and lay down, looking up at the blue flowers and various patterns.

It was the ugliest room I had ever seen.

I took out my favourite puzzle, ten thousand pieces. The end result is a map of Santa Rosa California. I always do puzzles to calm me down.

After the puzzle pieces were sprawled across the floor, I decided it was no use avoiding it. I had to become acquainted with the homewrecker. I had to look her in the eye.

The television room was right next to my room, which would be convenient for relaxing after school. I stood in front of the varnished wooden door, clutching my damp kleenex in hand and pushed open the door.

Inside was a fireplace, with a big flat screen television and a burgundy couch. There sat Delaney. She ushered me in, and I took a moment to look at her.

I hate that she was beautiful. Her skin looked so smooth, like the first snow of winter. Perfect, untouched. Her hair was bright and vibrant with waves that went past her ribs. She was wearing a dark purple dress with lace on the collar. Her eyes. Dark green, almost an emerald colour. I had never seen someone so beautiful. I hated that she, the woman who destroyed our family was in possession of these features.

Delaney: “Come here, take a seat Eden.”

I sat down and felt the smoothness of the cushion.

Delaney: “I’m thrilled we get to spend some time together! I heard you love puzzles is that true?”

I grunted in acknowledgement.

Delaney: “Eden, I know this change will be hard for you. But rest assure, you can tell me anything that’s on your mind.”

I stared at the spit stain on my shoes. Holding in my tears.

She sighed. Deep down I felt for her. I know I wasn’t easy to talk to. But I couldn’t bring myself to talk to her. One step at a time. I could look at her without melting down. That is step one. Step two is still a work in progress.

She reached over to the side of the couch and presented me with a bejeweled box. She told me to open it, as it was my present. I opened it and saw a necklace. With a thin silver chain with the letter E. My mind immediately went to the idea that this box would be good for my used tissues.

Delaney: “You know, Eden, when I was younger, my mom gave this necklace to me for my birthday. She told me to clutch it whenever I felt unsure or uneasy. She couldn’t find one with the letter D, so she settled for E since my middle name is Evelyn. I thought you may like it. It fits your name and your dad tells me you love jewelry.”

She was wrong. I hated jewelry. Wearing a necklace makes me feel like someone is choking me. But I mustered a slight smile and a mutter that could be interpreted as thank you.

Delaney: “Well, I should go accompany your dad downstairs. Would you like to come with me? You could say goodbye to your mother.”

I would be lying if I said I didn’t consider it. But I knew what I had to say.

Me: “No. I don’t want to. I don’t want to break her.”

Delaney, looking confused closed the door and walked down the stairs. I was left alone, seeing her with new eyes. Delaney had always been in my eyes the woman who destroyed our family. But really, she fell for a man and they moved in together. That was all. She was kind, welcoming, and warm. But she seemed so fragile, porcelain.

I didn’t want to break her.

Chapter Ten

Worker #254980

She looked frightened. She looked as if she had seen a lot. Isolated. I reached out and she moved away. We were in a special part of the department, the place where used memories, scripts, and files were thrown out. The caged voice had some innocence to her I had never seen before in any being, ever. I felt for her. I didn’t know what I felt but I felt something for her.

She looked towards my superior, and she gave her a nod. A nod that said she is here to help, and yes, she knows everything we know. She turned to me.

Superior: “Do you know how to get to the main console?”

I nodded, but before I told them, I had to hear their plan.

Me: “ Say I tell you where the console is. I have been working with maps for a while and I know my way around here better than anyone. What will you do if you find the console?”

The caged voice cowarded in the corner, scared.

Superior: “Pardon her, she hasn’t heard her true voice in a long time. She will only use it when she has to. If she makes it to the console, she will take full control of the workers in every department. Then, she will communicate a message to the beings in the outside world. She will get help. Everyone needs to know the system is broken.”

I had one more question.

Me: “How come only you two know the system is broken?”

She inhaled, and got ready to speak.

Superior: “We’ve been around here since… well longer than anyone can remember. Before she became powerful enough to become a voice, she worked with me, in the engineering of the system. We noticed many odd things. If the rituals were to fail, if we were unable to not complete the rituals, everything would go into chaos. Worse than anything we’ve ever seen. That is not normal. But no one accepts change. We are the only three beings who aren’t complete drones to the system. Maybe we are mutations, but the fact is that the system is not going to get better. We live in fear of change. If the slightest thing changes, chaos will arise. We need to fix that. Now.”

My superior looked genuine. The caged voice looked harmless. Misunderstood. For once, I truly accepted the change. I new it was changing, but if I helped them, we could fix the system. Or at the very least, attract attention and get help.

Me: “Alright. Give me until the end of this relapse, and delay the next one. As much as you can. I’ll bring a map, and I’ll explain how to get into the console. But we have to do this in between relapses. Any other time, and we could all risk being caught.”

I walked away. Back to my station, to draw up the plans for the console. I could be the solution to their problems. That made me feel pretty good.

Chapter Eleven

Eden Rivera

Dinner was quiet. Dad had his chef Louis make us a feast. Salmon en croute, a garden salad with red currants and pomegranate, wild rice, and rosemary baked potatoes.

I mostly picked at my food. I wished I had a sandwich. Cut in quarters, diagonally. Like mom made me. Or kraft dinner with blanched vegetables, like Alessandra made for me. With orange juice. No pulp. I was afraid of asking Louis, I didn’t want dad to yell at me on my first day.

Dad: “Eden, do you not like dinner? Louis can make you something else if you want.”

That’s what I was waiting to hear. An opening. Someone making an offer without me having to ask for it.

Me: “Yes please.”

Dad called Louis inside, and he took a pen and paper out, ready to record my order.

Me: “May I please have a sandwich with orange juice?”

Louis took down his notes.

Louis: “Certainly. Any specific requirements for the sandwich?”

Me: “Not many just… toasted pumpernickel bread, cooled with jack cheese, butter, oh put the butter on first but again make sure the bread is cooled. Raw white onions, three slices of salami, layed overlapping each other, two tomatoes, cut in diagonal quarters. With orange juice please.”

Louis struggled to keep at my pace, but nodded and chuckled.

Dad: “Actually Louis, there is a wrapped sandwich in the fridge. It has a post-it note on it.”

He turned to me with his warm smile.

Dad: “Mom told me that is your favourite sandwich.”

I smiled. After Louis brought out the sandwich, we ate in silence. But behind me, I noticed a glass chandelier, the same one from my dream. The crystals were clinking. I saw on tables, roses in glass vases. My heart was racing, I tried to distract myself. It wasn’t working, all I could think of was my mom’s words. I was breaking her. Because I am broken. And broken means a mistake. I tried to banish that thought from my mind, but it kept coming back.

Delaney: “Eden? Are you alright?”

Delaney and dad were looking at me in shock. It was then I realised spit was running down my chin, sweat dripping from my forehead, and I was shaking uncontrollably.

Me: “Can I use the bathroom?”

I thought to myself, this is new. I am always aware of a panic attack. I sat on the toilet and rocked back and forth. There was a voice in my head. She grew louder and louder. I began to cry. Was I going crazy? Would I die? The voice began screaming I was broken, I needed help, something was wrong, I was going crazy.

I started screaming, shouting, wailing. Mom was right, everyone was right I am a burden I am a mistake I am broken.

Delaney came bursting in through the door, and grabbed me. I was gagging and shaking and the world was spinning. I think she was saying it’s going to be okay, but the voice became too loud. I wasn’t sure if it was the voice in my head or my own voice, but something was drowning out everything around me. She rocked me back and forth and ran her fingers through my hair. I opened my eyes after a few minutes and found myself clutching the necklace with the letter E. Soon, everything went dark.

Chapter Twelve

Eden Rivera

I woke up in a car. A nice car with dark blue leather seats and a silver cup holder. There was music playing, from the radio. I looked in the driver's seat and saw wavy red hair poking out. I took a sigh of relief. It was Delaney. She rolled down the windows and I breathed in fresh air.

Me: “Delaney, where are we going?”

She didn’t answer. I asked again.

Me: “Delaney, where are we going?”

She didn’t answer.

I noticed there was food in the back. Black licorice and an orange. I didn’t know how to explain that I couldn’t eat the orange, so I didn’t take a bite from it. The black licorice was good. Most people don’t like black licorice, but I do. I love it.

I asked Delaney a few more times, but she continued not to answer. I also found, resting in the cup holder, the necklace with the letter E. This made me even more curious as to where we were going.

The car ride was long, and I found a stack of kleenex to occupy my time. This car was too fancy to smear my spit on the seats. They were expensive and comfortable.

We pulled up to a diner for lunch. Delaney looked calm, so I tried to be calm as well. She ordered a burger with fries and a shake, I ordered a burger without fries. Fries have grease all over them which can get on my fingers and ruins my day. I hate oily feelings.

Lunch was me asking her where we were going, and her changing the subject. Complimenting my hair, asking me about school, and telling me dad left for a business trip.

We got back in the car and drove. Finally, she told me to get out of the car, and we stopped in front of a white building. It was sunny outside, so we walked around, but I couldn’t find any signs to show me where we were.

The inside of the building was blank, with some walls of artwork and finger painting.

Delaney told me I could wait in the waiting room while she checked something. I was the only person there. I ate my last vine of black licorice and took a few kleenexes and stuffed them in my pockets in case I needed them for later. She came back after a few minutes, and we waited. When I asked what we were waiting for, she said we were waiting for someone to call my last name, Rivera. I asked her if this was a hospital. I remember the last time I was in a hospital. I had fallen down the stairs at dad’s place, and he took me to the hospital. It smelled weird, people were walking around with masks on their faces, there were tables on wheels, and it had no sounds but the droning of the hospital workers voices. I had come in, crying, bleeding, and dad had told me not to make a scene. I found that ridiculous since this was a hospital, scenes mean faster service. They brought me into a room and sat me down on a chair with crinkly white paper. I wouldn’t eat any of the hospital food, so I had a big stomach cramp. Dad had to bring me food from home, and he was angry the whole ride home. I didn’t have the best hospital experience.

She told me this wasn’t a hospital, but it would help me. My stomach turned into knots as I contemplated what she could mean.

Woman’s voice: “Rivera.”

Delaney and I stood up and we were escorted into a room. On the sign of the door it said “Teresa Wilson, Therapist.” My stomach jumped, and I began hyperventilating. But all that stopped when I saw who was in the room.

Dad, Alessandra, and a teary eyed remorseful mom.

Chapter Thirteen

Mom ran over to me and pressed my face into her stomach. Sobbing, I could make out her words. She expressed in a bubbly voice how sorry she was for everything she had said to me. Everything she had done to me. Her embrace was warm, and I felt all eyes on me.

Alessandra had tears streaks. I ran to her, and she gave me a bottle of orange juice with a little bow on it.

Dad had a smile. I hugged him and breathed in the scent of his cigar. It was musty.

Lastly, I ran and hugged Delaney. It was because of her, we were all here, willing to give me all the help I will need.

We sat on a dark green couch, mom’s arm wrapped around me. I could still hear her sniffling. She wiped her eyes until they became red, like the lipstick she was wearing.

Teresa looked at us. A big family ready to help one person. She smiled and cleared her throat.

Teresa: “Eden. It has been brought to my attention that you’ve been struggling with your mental health. Is that correct?”

I breathed in the scent of vanilla and nodded.

Teresa: “Have you received any help concerning your issues?”

I shook my head, and felt a lump in my throat.

Teresa: “Alright. Will you be comfortable opening up? Speaking out about your issues?”

I looked around at the sympathetic, yet strong faces and nodded.

Teresa: “Let’s get started.”

Worker #254980

I looked into the screen, and smiled. Help is on the way.

The Future

Eden Rivera continued to receive therapy for seven years. She graduated the “Empire College” in Santa Rosa with a degree in psychology. At the age of 27, she married a young artist named Melanie Ward. They adopted a daughter and named her Evelyn Rose Rivera. Eden passed down to her daughter the necklace Delaney had given her with the letter E. She told her to clutch it whenever she felt uncertain or uneasy. Eden went on to become a therapist, and her and her family live in an apartment in Petaluma, California.

Elsa Rivera decided to pursue a career in singing, after she remarried for the third time to a man named James Ortega. She sees Eden once a month for a dinner party, and is very close with her grandchild, Evelyn.

Bob Gene Rivera split with Delaney Yong and moved to LA. He never remarried or had a lasting relationship ever since. He continued to be a very wealthy, successful businessman who owned three properties. One in Georgia, one in New York, and one in LA. He has a reunion with his family once every year at Christmas.

Delaney Yong moved in with her cousin Veronica Lily, in a two bedroom apartment. They live two blocks away from Eden, so they see each other once a week for brunch.

Alessandra Flores died at the age 24 in a car accident. All members of the Rivera family attended her funeral.

The End

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Reviews

Amaya

I'm surprised there aren't any reviews for this yet. This is a very powerful story. I love how you had both Eden and the Worker telling parts of the story and how you illustrated the caged voice. Incredible job, this is a great piece of writing that makes the reader think about mental health in a whole different way and ultimately provides a greater understanding of the immense internal struggle involved with mental health if help is never received.