Harrison Woods is a 17-year-old girl attending Arbor Coast High, a boarding school in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Her dark past including her rocky relationship with her parents and her esteemed older brother's suicide are the reasons she landed herself at...
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"Jason Carr, here for, uh, Otto Landry," I quietly stated to the woman working the front desk.
The Detroit Psychiatric Facility for the Mentally Ill, also known as the place that my brother, the serial killer, had spent the past 2 years. Locked up, being treated for his dissociative identity disorder. So why was I here?
After the trial, and after Otto was sent away to prison, my parents practically disowned him. They said that they didn't want anything to do with him, that he was a disgrace to the family. Whether he was a killer or not. So they pretended he didn't exist. Hell, they'd practically slipped out of my life as well once they'd declared Otto "not their responsibility anymore". I guess they didn't care enough to stick around for me, either.
Their denial of Otto's existence left me being Otto's only remaining family, although we weren't even blood. The hospital would send me updates telling me how Otto was doing, what his progress was like, and all of that bullshit. I was even forced to visit the facility to have discussions with his psychiatrist about his disorder every 6 months. And now, it was January. 5 years after the trial. 3 years after Otto was released from prison due to "good behavior". And nearly 2 full years after his admittance into the psychiatric facility.
"Head down the hall, take your first left, and then the door is to your right," the woman said unenthusiastically. I gave her a faint smile before taking her directions.
Dr. Rosen was Otto's psychiatrist, the one I had been meeting with every 6 months to discuss Otto's wellbeing. I still wasn't sure how to feel about the whole situation. Was I supposed to feel bad for Otto? Was I supposed to be happy that he was getting healthier? Or was I supposed to feel nothing but hatred for him because of everything that he did? I couldn't decide. He was my brother, but everything had changed so drastically. Was I supposed to still think of him as my brother?
Was he still my brother? Or was he too sick to be considered that?
I shook off the thought and took a deep breath as I turned left and reached the door that read Dr. Rosen on it. I slowly raised my knuckle up to knock, only hesitating because of how nervous I was. I was always nervous to have these conversations. I knocked regardless.
The door opened slowly. "Mr. Carr, please come in," Dr. Rosen said, smiling at me. Her smile was just a bit too wide for the occasion.
I walked into the familiar room. The walls were painted a pale purple color. Dr. Rosen said that it was a "calming and relaxing color". I still couldn't believe that there was anything calming or relaxing about being in a psychiatric ward filled with mentally ill psychopaths. I sat down on the grey, leather couch across from Dr. Rosen's desk. It wasn't even a comfortable couch, it was about as stiff as bricks. It was hard to find a semi-comfortable position to sit in, so I settled for sitting normally with my feet planted on the floor and back against the cushions.
"You seem to be doing a lot better, Jason," Dr. Rosen examined. "How is your paraplegia?"
"I still can't feel shit down there," I said, laughing a little. All she did was send me a pitiful look. No one could ever laugh with me about my paralysis jokes, they felt too uncomfortable. "Uh, but I'm walking a lot better. With the things they've been doing at physical therapy, I only really need the crutches when I'm going more than a mile or so."
