The Redemption of Callie & Kayden

doctor and Doug to get me released.
    They’re over by the doorway having a conversation about me like I’m not even here. It’s actually more of an argument than a conversation.
    “But we’ll be there watching him at all times.” My mother talks with her hands a lot and she’s got long fingernails. Every time she says something she swings her arms animatedly and almost nails the doctor in the eye.
    Doug fans through his yellow-sheeted notebook and reads through his notes. “Look, Mrs. Owens, I know this must be hard for you, but I don’t think it’s healthy for Kayden to leave the facility just yet. In fact, I’d advise against it.”
    My mother taps her foot on the floor and crosses her arms as she stares Doug down like he is a small, insignificant piece of shit. “Look, I understand what you advise, but I’d rather not take advice from a doctor who got his PhD from some low-budget college.”
    “I got my PhD from Berkley,” he says, pulling out a pen from his pocket.
    Her gaze sweeps over him and she elevates her eyebrows. “Really? Then why are you here?”
    Doug stays calm as he balances the notebook on his arm and writes something down. “I might be asking you the same thing.”
    I think I like Doug at that moment and I smile to myself as I wiggle my finger under the bands and flip them against the inside of my wrist and let the burn soothe me. I’m sitting in the corner of the room, not the one I sleep in but a larger one with a lot of tables and chairs scattered around. The walls are brick and cracked with old age, but it’s more comforting than the dull white ones in the room. Some people eat lunch in here, but I choose to eat in my room because there’s always too much going on, like fights and yelling and crying.
    My mother stabs her fingernail against Doug’s chest. “Don’t you dare insinuate anything.”
    “I wasn’t,” Doug says simply, wincing as he grips the spot on his chest where my mother stabbed her finger. “It just seems like you’re awfully eager to take Kayden out of here when it’s clear he’s not stable.”
    I scan the scars on my arms and the bandage on my wrists. I’ve been picking at the scab that’s underneath it a lot, which is why it’s not healing. But it’s a fucking habit and I can’t seem to break it.
    “He’s perfectly stable,” my mother insists. There’s a slight slur to her speech and I wonder if the doctor can hear it. “And it’s my call, since I’m the one who signed him in to be here.”
    I stand up, stunned. “You did that? I thought that was the hospital?”
    She glares at me with annoyance. “I put you here for your own good. You needed to be watched for a while, but now… you’ve been here for a little over a week and it’s time to move on and get your act together.”
    Or kept away from my father. “Then I want to leave,” I say, walking across the room. “And I want to go back to school, not back home.”
    “You can’t,” she replies curtly. “It’s Christmas break.”
    “Okay, then maybe I want to stay here.” I back up to the chair and sit down. I tip my head forward and rub the sides of my temples with my fingers. “Fuck.” I have no idea what to do. I don’t want to be in this God damn room anymore, but leaving means facing the world, myself, my father, Callie.
    “If Kayden wants to stay here,” Doug interrupts. “Then he can.”
    “I’m sure as hell not paying for it,” my mother snaps venomously. She reaches into her purse and takes out the car keys. “I’m signing you out first thing tomorrow morning and then you’re coming home—that is, unless you want to fork out your own money.”
    She clutches the keys in her hands and storms out the door, taking my hope with her. I wonder why she’s doing it. Why she’d put me in here for barely over a week and then suddenly want me out. There’s got to be something going on.
    Whatever it is, I don’t want to go home. If I do, there’s a good chance my father’s going to finish what he started.
    Doug sighs as he returns his pen to his pocket, and then he turns to me. “Well, that didn’t go so well.”
    “It never does with her.” I shove the sleeves of my long-sleeved shirt up and rest my arms on my knees. “There’s no use trying to fight her on anything. She always wins.”
    He grabs a chair from the corner and positions it in front of my chair. He doesn’t bother taking his jacket off, which means he’s probably not staying long.