Linda Mae

Ashley and I used to love making forts. We weren’t very good at it, but that didn’t stop us. We would use chairs, boxes, and dressers to drape blankets across the room. When we decided we had finished, we would crawl underneath the droopy ceiling and giggle until it got too hot and stuffy to stay under any longer.

Forts seem silly to me now. 16-year-olds have better things to do. Besides, my sister and I can’t stay in a room together for twenty minutes without fighting anymore.

We always have something to fight about. She found my e-cigarette a while back and things have been tense ever since. When my dad found out I had been vaping, he threatened to take away my Disney trip.

My choir is going to Disney World in December and I’ve been looking forward to it for two years. So when he threatened to not let me go, my first instinct was to blame Ashley.

I know it wasn’t her fault - she’s just looking out for me - but I can’t help myself from being immensely pissed off at her. Especially because the only way I’ll be able to go is if I’m the perfect little child up until December 14th. Which is going to be difficult because I’m known in my family for being the rebellious one. I think that has something to do with my mother.

Melinda (I call her by her first name now) got addicted to drugs about a year ago and abandoned me and my siblings. It didn’t affect Dad much because he hasn’t wanted anything to do with her since their divorce nine years ago. But ever since last summer I’ve rebelled in every way imaginable to get her attention. Needless to say, it hasn’t yet worked out in my favor.

I actually haven’t entirely been rebellious. That’s just not who I am. It has mostly been her.

Linda.

Chapter One

Backstory

Linda has been inside my head for as long as I can remember. She grew stronger with each new trauma.

When I was bullied in elementary school, she began talking to me. Actually, it was more like she was thinking to me. These awful thoughts about myself would come into my mind, but they weren’t mine. At first, I would argue with the thoughts.

-They really do hate you, Katherine. You’re not good enough for them.

-I think they’re just jealous. That’s what Mom says.

-Mom is lying to you to make you feel better.

-No way, Mom would never lie to me!

After a while, I would just let the thoughts come and go, because I could never win an argument with her.

When my parents divorced she became more prominent, telling me that it was my fault. That I wasn’t even good enough for my own parents, so they decided to split.

When my mother got a boyfriend who eventually started to hit her, I began to feel the shift.

It was slight at first. I could barely tell it was happening. But the more it happened, the more I was painfully aware of it.

I would say or do things and immediately after, not remember a single thing that had just happened. I came to the conclusion that Linda was briefly taking over my brain and my body.

When I entered middle school, the bullying started again. Linda didn’t hesitate to mock me and tell me what to do.

-They’re calling you fat because you are fat.

-You’re not wrong.

-You know how to fix that problem?

-How?

-Don’t eat.

-What? I have to eat.

-Not if you want them to like you.

Looking back on it now, I really wasn’t overweight, but since Linda told me to do it, I started scraping my food around my plate at dinner so it looked like I had eaten. I skipped breakfast nearly every morning, and eventually, I skipped lunch at school. After a few months of depriving my body of the necessary nutrients it needed, the very thought of food made me nauseous. I did my best to keep down dinner every night, but that became my only meal of the day.

When this had gone on for several months, I called my mother and told her about it, but I kept Linda a secret. I was staying at my father’s house when this phone call was taking place, and she immediately drove over. I don’t think she told my dad what was going on. She didn’t tell me either. We drove for a little way, and I asked her about a thousand times where we were going. It wasn’t until we arrived at the hospital that she told me.

“You’re going to get help,” she said with sad eyes. She could hardly stand to look at me, “I wish you had told me sooner, Katherine.”

There are only two reasons my mother would call me Katherine; if I was in trouble, or if something was tremendously serious. She knows I hate to be called Katherine, so she tries her hardest to call me Kat a vast majority of the time.

I looked at her with a look of pure shock, “I don’t need help, what are you talking about?”

“Kat, you’ve been starving yourself. Do you know how serious that is?”

I obviously knew how serious it was; it was having awful effects on my body. I was more tired than usual, I would get light headed when I stood up, and focusing at school was insanely difficult. But I learned to cope with the way my body was acting. Linda told me to do it, so I did. It was that simple. Melinda obviously didn’t understand.

“Ok fine, I need help. But where could we possibly be going?” I looked at her with fear in my eyes. I knew I had messed up by telling her.

“I’m taking you to a hospital. If the doctors think you need help, they will admit you to an inpatient psychiatric unit. Do you know what that is?”

“A mental ward? You think I’m crazy, don’t you.” My eyes started to tear up.

“No sweetie, you’re not crazy,” her eyes teared up faster than mine and a single tear began to roll down her cheek, “I can’t help you, so I need to bring you to someone who can.”

She pulled the car into the hospital parking lot and parked. Neither of us moved or said a word. I could tell this was having a big impact on her, I just couldn’t quite grasp why. It wasn’t that big of a deal, I was fine. At least that’s what Linda made me believe.

I spent the next ten days in a psychiatric hospital. It wasn’t a very pleasant experience being locked up with nothing to do except listen to Linda and lie to my doctors.

Linda told me that the only way I would get out of that place was if I lied to my doctors about my progress, so I put on my best happy face and managed to make them believe I was getting better.

When I got home, Linda was even more prominent in my head, screaming at me about how horrible of a person I was. How ugly, worthless, and unnecessary I was. She began to rebel, which made my parents believe I was the one rebelling.

Once, Melinda’s boyfriend was yelling at me, so I jumped out the window to get away. My plan was to walk to Dad’s house, but I didn’t manage to get very far.

When I started high school, I began smoking weed, drinking, and vaping with my friends. I even spent the night at boyfriends’ houses when Dad thought I was with my female friends. Nobody found out about it for a year, because Linda made me into a very good liar, but I told Dad everything when the unthinkable happened.

I was in love with a boy. Evan was his name. I dated him for about a month, but I was in love with him before we started dating. I think he was in love with me before that, too.

We found each other on social media and started talking at the beginning of my Sophomore year; during his junior year. Although we had never met in person, we were inseparable, constantly texting each other. After five months of this, he asked me on a date.

There was immediate chemistry, and I knew without a doubt that I was in love with him. I wasn’t willing to admit that to myself, or to him for that matter, because I’d been in love before, and it ended in more heartbreak than I could handle.

This time, I was playing it safe. I told myself that if he knew I was in love with him, things would move faster, and that was a recipe for an even larger amount of pain when things inevitably ended.

Looking back on it, I still don’t know what the difference is between playing it safe in relationships, and blatantly not. I suppose it’s not what you do in the relationship rather than what you do within yourself; not allowing yourself to get too attached.

He and I were together for about a month, and I can say without a doubt that it was the best month of my life. Up until the devastating end.

I kept my rebellious streak alive when I was with him. We smoked and drank. But the most outrageously rebellious thing I did with him happened at the very end of our relationship.

We planned a day for me to spend the night at his house. I knew my dad would never allow this, so I told him I was with some friends.

It was an amazing time. The best feeling I’ve ever felt was waking up next to the man I loved. But that feeling was fleeting and short-lived.

After we woke up and had cuddled for a while, I looked up at him with loving eyes and spoke, “You have no idea how happy I am that things have worked out the way they have. You make me so happy”

“Oh Kat, don’t say that now,” he sighed and looked away from me. I felt his body tense.

“What?” My voice had become quiet and nervous, and my chest felt tight. I sat up and looked at him intensely, urging him to go on.

“Nothing, nevermind.” He still wouldn’t look at me.

My eyebrows began to furrow as I moved away from him, looking for my clothes. I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I knew it was something bad. I could sense it.

He grabbed my waist and I struggled to get free. My head started to pound, and that’s when Linda showed up.

-He’s going to break up with us.

-Shut up, you don’t know that.

-I can’t wait to say ‘I told you so.’

“What the hell are you talking about, Evan?” My voice was shaking uncontrollably.

He looked at me with sad eyes and began to speak, “When I was little, my dad used to beat me. Ever since then, I haven’t been able to love someone. It’s like he beat the emotion out of me. What happens when I date is, I fall in love really fast, but one day I wake up and just don’t love them anymore.”

His head was down but I could tell he was crying. He wasn’t the only one; tears were streaming down my burning cheeks and we both began to sob. I hugged him, and we held each other for what could’ve been years.

After I had exhausted all of my tears, I pulled away from his embrace and looked at him fondly. It took everything in me to utter my next words, “Evan, I love you.”

He snapped his head up and looked at me with an expression of pure shock that lasted only seconds before his eyes welled up with tears again. His body began to shudder as he cried. I hugged him again and between sobs, he said, “I love you, too.”

Another decade could have gone by before he spoke again, “Let’s get you home.”

“This is the end of us, isn’t it?” I wasn’t crying anymore.

“Yes,” he said in the most serious tone I’d ever heard him use.

My eyes filled with tears once again as I grabbed my clothes from the floor and threw them on. A somber look spread across both of our faces as we walked outside to his car. As he was getting in the car, I saw him put a flask in his door and knew we were going to get drunk. I wasn’t upset about this, because when the shock wore off, I knew I would be in intolerable pain, and alcohol would help to alleviate that pain. A silver lining, if you will.

We drove the whole way in silence, not looking at each other, trying to compose ourselves. Neither of us knew what to say. I willed him to turn on the radio or something just so that I didn’t have to listen to the haunting sound of the quiet. But he never did.

When we got to my house, he pulled out the flask and we drank. We drank until I realized I wouldn’t be able to walk inside. I told him this, and he offered to help me get to the door.

“I’m so sorry, Kat,” he said in a raspy voice as we were walking, our arms around each others’ waist so I wouldn’t fall over. I looked at him but didn’t say a word.

When we got to the door, I faced him as I leaned my body against the cold wood. This was the final goodbye, and I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I didn’t have to though, because he did.

“Goodbye, Kat.”

I felt hot, burning tears blur my vision as they filled my eyes, threatening to spill out. A giggle escaped my throat, not because it was funny, but because I didn’t know what else to do. As I laughed, the tears began to flow and my laughter turned into a sob.

After a moment of pulling myself together, I found the courage to speak, ¨I love you, Evan. Goodbye.¨

He leaned toward me, the smell of whiskey heavy on his breath, and kissed my cheek. Then, he turned away and left without looking back.

I opened the door to go inside the house, and immediately let my back slide against the door until I was sitting on the ground, hugging my knees. I let out a cry that sounded more like a cough, and then the tears promptly streamed down my face, showing no signs of stopping.

In that moment, everything felt wrong; out of place. I expected that feeling to fade over the next few days, but it only grew stronger.

-Nothing is right, now. Everything is wrong. Kat, we can’t live like this.

-Linda, you know what? For once I agree with your stupid thoughts.

Chapter Two

The day after the unfortunate breakup was a Monday. The thought of going to school and seeing Evan there terrified me. Just thinking about him made my chest ache. I couldn’t even imagine what seeing him again would do to me.

I contemplated skipping school but ultimately decided against it. Though I thoroughly hated the idea of going, I made myself get up, get dressed, and walk out the door.

Evan usually drove me to school, so now I had to ride the bus. I rode the entire way in silence, with my earbuds blaring sad music in my ears as my eyes overflowed with tears. I wouldn’t be able to tell you what songs were playing on my phone because although it was loud enough for everyone in the bus to hear it, I was too much in shock to comprehend anything other than the fact that the loud sound was blocking out my thoughts. That’s all that mattered.

I dragged myself through my classes, not hearing a single word a teacher said. Today was about my legal obligation to be there, and not about learning.

I saw him only once that day. We passed each other in the hall, and he pretended I didn’t exist. That hurt more than a passing glance would have. My chest felt like it was on fire, and it was all I could do to not break down in front of everyone. My vision began to blur, and I felt like I was going to collapse.

Immediately after that, I found a friend and broke down in tears, explaining everything. She wrapped me in a loving embrace until the bell rang.

“We gotta go, Kat. You’re gonna be okay. Just make it through the day.”

I looked up at her and wiped my nose on my sleeve, “Okay…,” I managed to say before she gave me one last pitying look and walked away.

When I got home, I sat on my bed for what could have been hours, completely oblivious to the world around me. Then suddenly, Linda showed up.

-Hey whore, you know what we gotta do?

-What’s that, Linda?

-Kill ourselves.

I didn’t bother responding to this, because I was too busy considering it. I couldn’t come up with any reason not to do it. My mother was gone, the man I loved was gone, and the pain was unbearable. So I decided to do it.

I spent the next few days researching painless, fast ways to commit suicide. I didn’t find any methods that are painless, so I desperately searched for anything.

I eventually landed on overdosing on Tylenol. It seemed like the easiest way to go. The only issue I came across was the painful process in which death would consume me. According to every website I looked at, overdosing on this particular drug would first make my liver shut down. Then my kidneys. Soon after that, the rest of my vital organs would follow suit. It would take days, maybe even weeks, for my heart to stop. But that fact alone wasn’t enough to deter me from the idea of it. In my head, a painful few days was worth escaping a painful life.

On March 30th, 2018, I waited for my father and siblings to leave for the store before grabbing the 100 tablet bottle of 500mg pills. It was unopened. I walked to the fridge and got myself two bottles of water. One wouldn’t be enough I decided.

After obtaining the water, I walked into my dimly lit room and sat on my unmade bed. I took several deep breaths to calm myself down before picking up the white bottle and opening the childproof twist cap. I emptied the contents onto my bed.

“Something’s missing,” I said to myself thoughtfully. Then it dawned on me; I should tell Evan goodbye.

I found my phone on my dresser and began to type the message.

‘I can’t imagine living any longer with this much pain. I’m sorry. Goodbye.’

I didn’t bother waiting for a response, because I knew he would try to talk me out of it, so I opened a water bottle and let one pill slide down my throat.

Then another.

And another.

I quickly lost count after several minutes of doing this, but judging by the size of my rapidly shrinking pile of chalky white pills, I could safely assume I was halfway done.

Fifty down, fifty to go.

Evan then texted me.

‘Kat, don’t do anything stupid. As hard as it may be to believe, I do care about you. A lot. The world needs you.’

I was quick to respond to this.

It’s too late. I’m sorry. Goodbye.’

My heart began to race. Was this a mistake? Should I not have done this? I began hyperventilating but did my best to calm down. It was too late now.

I took one last deep breath before swallowing the rest of the pills. I felt eerily calm when the last of my pills were gone. A strong urge to lay down overcame me and I didn’t hesitate to do so, wrapping myself up in a blanket. I closed my eyes and willed my heart to stop.

Then my phone buzzed. I picked it up slowly, my eyes still closed. I waited a few seconds before looking at the screen. Unsurprisingly, it was Evan.

‘I’m coming over. Let me in. Please.’

I rolled my eyes with irritation but complied. I walked to the living room and unlocked the door, waiting for his arrival.

The tires of his shiny silver car squealed loudly as he sped into my driveway. The car wasn’t even fully stopped before he took off his seatbelt and opened his door. He shut off his car and ran up to the house. The panic in his eyes was evident as he burst through the door.

“What did you do?” he shouted as he entered my house and approached me. I sat down on the couch, looking at him with expressionless eyes.

He sat down next to me and said quietly this time, “What did you do?”

I looked down at my hands that were folded in my lap and didn’t say anything. I wanted to tell him everything, but words weren’t forming.

“Kat. Talk to me,” his voice was pleading.

Finally, I spoke, “I took some pills, but it’s fine. You can leave.”

He stood up as quickly as if the couch was on fire. I sunk deeper into the couch and covered my face with my hands, knowing what would happen next. An interrogation.

“What kind of pills? How many? Where’s the bottle?” His questions came out so fast it sounded like a single sentence.

I stood up and gestured for him to follow me. He did so without complaint and followed me to my room.

I grabbed the bottle and handed it to him.

“I took all one hundred of them.”

His eyes widened and he practically yelled, “What? Oh my god, I have to call 911.”

“No! I’m fine, see?” I spread out my arms and he looked at me.

“Kat you are not fine. Do you understand me? You could die!”

“That was the whole point, genius,” I rolled my eyes as he looked away from me and dialed the phone.

He turned and walked out of my room, staring at the empty bottle in his hand. I followed him out and sat back down on the couch, but he didn’t do the same. Instead, he began pacing.

I laid down and covered my ears with a pillow, not wanting to hear the conversation.

A few minutes had passed before he put a hand on my arm and shook it gently. I reluctantly removed the pillow from my face and looked at him sheepishly.

“The police are on their way,” he still looked upset, which made sense in hindsight, but not in the moment.

I groaned and settled into the couch as Evan sat down by my feet, “I can’t believe you did this, Kat.” His voice was quiet and thoughtful.

“Me either. I’ve always been too scared to go through with something like this, but I actually did it,” I said in a proud voice.

He sighed, “This isn’t a joke. Stop making it seem like it’s not a big deal.”

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Evan shot up and bolted to the door to open it.

“Hello, officer. She’s right over here,” Evan’s voice was suddenly shaking.

The officer walked inside and asked me a bunch of basic questions that Evan had already given them answers to. I talked to them for about ten minutes before they called my father and an ambulance.

The paramedics arrived before my father did, so he was told to go directly to the hospital.

When the ambulance showed up, Evan walked me outside.

“Are you going to come with?” I looked up at him.

“No, there won’t be room for me, but I’ll meet you at the hospital,” he said without looking at me. My eyes were fixated on the ground but I nodded my head.

He helped me get into the ambulance and then turned to talk away. He didn’t look back as he got in his car and drove away.

My heart sunk. I wanted him to be with me for the last days of my life.

-Oh, stop moping. He said he would meet us at the hospital.

-True.

-Althooouuugghh.

-Don’t give me some bullshit about how he’s not going to come.

-I’ll bet you he was lying.

I rolled my eyes and looked up at the paramedics.

“Hello, Katherine. How are you doing today?” one of the paramedics smiled warmly at me as I made myself comfortable on the gurney.

I shot her a look of pure anger and her smile turned into a look of sympathy.

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t the best question to ask. I’ve been made aware of your situation,” she stood up and strapped me onto the uncomfortable bed. The male paramedic that was standing on the other side of me reached over to take my vital signs.

“You guys do realize how ridiculous this is, right?” I said in a tired voice.

“It’s not ridiculous, sweetheart. We just want to keep you safe,” the female paramedic said in a soft, comforting voice. I craned my neck to see if she had a nametag.

She didn’t, so I asked her, “What’s your name?”

“Beth,” she gave me a warm smile.

“Well thank you, Beth.” Suddenly, something inside of me was grateful, even though the fact that I probably wouldn’t die now was especially irritating.