The Burning of the Palace at Versailles (or, Butterfly) [REWRITING]

Chapter 23 - "Talk Therapy"

Melody stared at Puzzle. So did Key. Melody figured her expression matched Key's: wide-eyed, jaw slack, a generally dumbfounded look on his features. She twirled her pen in her fingers, trying to come up with something intelligent to say.

"Uh," she said, then cleared her throat. "Wow."

Puzzle shrugged. For suddenly speaking so much, she was now quiet.

"You have memory loss?" Melody said.

Puzzle nodded.

"Why?"

Puzzle reached a hand up to her head and pulled away a chunk of hair, revealing a long, jagged scar. "Apparently I tried to kill myself when I was fifteen. Hanging. They said the rope broke. I hit my head, cracked it open like an egg. I can't remember the entire year before that. As much as I can remember, one day I was fourteen and walking down the street, and the next thing I know, I'm almost sixteen and in a hospital bed."

Melody suddenly felt awkward and out of her skin. What should she say in response to such a thing? She glanced at her notes: she had eleven pages of messy, scrawled ink. Words were bleeding into each other and through the paper. It was chaotic and angry and Melody closed the book so she wouldn't have to look at them.

"You said it happened more than once," Melody said. "How many times?" No matter what she did, she couldn't bring herself to say it: suicide. That forbidden word that everyone thought of but no one ever said during group therapy. Because wasn't it the worst thing any of them could do? That was always the concern. Everyone always talked about how they always just needed to stay alive. The counselors, therapists, and thought leaders always talked about how things would eventually get better as long as they stayed alive and didn't give in to the darkness. Time heals all wounds, Melody supposed for a long time. Now she wasn't so sure. Time had gone by, and she still had a lot of open gashes.

"Twice," Puzzle said. "The first time was an accident. I was ten."

"Ten?!" Key said, his voice a harsh whisper. Melody realized this must be the first time he was hearing about all of this as well. He was pale, though whether that was paler than usual, Melody couldn't be sure. She glanced at the doctor. Riley's face was unreadable: her lips were in a straight line, her face unworried, her eyes dark.

Melody slowly turned back to Puzzle. "How do you accidentally attempt suicide?"

Puzzle opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by a loud alarm that made all three patients jump. Key clamped his hands over his ears, wincing. Melody tried to ignore how much the alarm sounded like the alarm clock that would wake her up every day, leaving her hours upon hours to lay in bed trying to forget everything and wish she could let herself go back to sleep.

"What is that?" Melody yelled over the blaring. But just as she did, the alarm stopped.

She looked around, but no one seemed like they were going to talk to her. Puzzle had her eyes cast to the ground and Key kept his hands over his ears. Melody looked at the doctor. "What does that mean?"

Doctor Riley seemed more defeated than Melody had ever seen her. Her brown eyes were shiny with what Melody could have sworn were tears and a cold spark of fear went down her spine. "It's okay, Melody. It means—"

But the doctor was cut off by Heidi and Jim entering the room. Melody swallowed nervously. She knew these people were here to help her, but even still, seeing people running at her made her heart leap into her throat.

"The others are in their rooms," Jim said. "We're going to bring these three into their rooms."

For the first time, Heidi seemed genuinely concerned. Her eyes were open wide, and her large chest was heaving with exertion. She really does care, Melody thought. About Key, at least.