Journey to Psitharis

Chapter 15

Turned out I didn't overdose on NyQuil, yet the story spread around school that I attempted suicide by taking something lethal. I was just like that Aubrey girl, only I didn't use a highway, I used drugs. The sad tale of my suicide attempt wound up being more of a testimony to Jennifer and Sasha's complete victory over the strange girl who in the end just couldn't hack it. And once the story made its rounds, along with the newspaper article with a small footnote about my desperate bid to end my life, any future I might have had at Ross Alexander High School was gone. You couldn't have found a bigger outcast than the crazy girl who tried to kill herself.

The truth of the epic saga was a little less complicated as all that. I became very dehydrated which brought on a spell where I passed out. The problem was, after they got me stabilized and to the point where I should have woke up, I just...didn't. When I failed to regain consciousness they put me in ICU, convinced I had something else wrong with me, perhaps I had stopped breathing at some point which caused some sort of brain damage. A lot of tests were performed on my lifeless body, from a CT scan to an MRI, along with a ton of blood tests. I figured I needed to be in Dream Land to learn more about its fate, which is why I stayed unconscious so long. I was in Psitharis for five days, which put me in my strange coma for almost three.

When I woke up, my grandmother was relieved, my mom was beyond pissed and my sister immediately demanded to go home. The two of them were certain I had somehow faked it all for attention. And maybe I did fake it. There was nothing really wrong with me except for the flu and the dehydration, and by the time I woke up those symptoms have all but disappeared. My grandma offered to take me to her home when I was discharged. Mom and Aurora agreed, as did I. I was weak and didn't feel like dealing with them, and since Grandma was almost a couple of hours away I would also get the added benefit of steering clear of the unwanted attention that would come with my rumored suicide attempt and the article in The Chronicle.

The doctor signed me out of school for a week to convalesce. Perhaps that would give me enough time to figure out what to do next, how do downplay my supposed suicide attempt. Days were spent in quiet solitude, but I wound up worrying more about the other Exceptionals than myself. Did they wind up punishing Calperal for my disappearance? Was Jake okay? Every now and then I would remember the death of Anastasia and how vivid and realistic it was. If I shut my eyes for any extended period of time I would see the blade tear its way through her body, break her ribs and sever her artery before being ruthless pulled back the way it entered. It was very strange to feel pangs of guilt about the death of a fictitious person, but it haunted me every time my eyes closed.

As neglectful as my mother had been, Grandma was the exact opposite. Her loving care of her new invalid charge was close to smothering. I tried to reassure her I was feeling better; after two days of rest I really did feel much improved. But she kept me basically tied down in the bed and surrounded by whatever food or drink I desired. The good news was I had a television at my beck and call, and I had all of Aunt Charlotte's old mementos to look through or admire. But I was bored. I had to fight the urge to sleep non-stop, to return to finish my unfinished business in the dream world. If I made the attempt Grandma would have had me back in the hospital at a moment's notice. I didn't want to awaken to an IV drip and a backless hospital gown again. So I ate like a good girl, took my medicine right on schedule and kept my mind engaged with thoughts that had nothing to do with bullies or goons or fatally impaled dancers.

What was happening at home, however, was nothing short of bizarre. The paper ran the story, with the picture of a despondent mother clinging helplessly to the latest statistic of the cyber bullying trend. Mom made sure they knew about my tragic suicide attempt, wringing her hands the entire time as she told my tragic tale to the reporter, managing to squeeze out a tear or two as she expressed her fears to the now-ravenous Theresa Bennett. It was a low thing to do, reporting on a suicide attempt that never happened, but hell, whatever sells papers in the digital age, right? And thanks to that little addition to the report, a local television station showed up at Mom's house the next day wanting to speak with me. Well, of course I wasn't there because my mom was safeguarding me from the public, but she'd be more than happy to speak with them. The story she did with the local news was picked up by a national network who happened to be working on their own portrayal of suicide in the cyber world, and my story fit in with their report perfectly. They tried to interview my sister but she declined, which they used to prove how intimidating bullies could be, that they could turn loving sisters against each other like this.