War Babies pt. 1

Chapter one

I woke up with another blinding migraine, unsure of where I was again. I tried opening my eyes, but the pain wouldn’t let me relax enough to do even that. I had the sense of urgency that comes with these damn headaches. That something was coming, something bad, or maybe it had already happened. I always wake with these thoughts when I get a migraine. Like voices screaming at me to save them. Even though I have no idea where they come from. My Psychiatrist says it’s part of my psychosis, I am a schizophrenic. Wasn’t always like this, I had a normal life once, a long, long time ago. Funny for me to think that as I am only 16 years old. What was normal? The shows on the television portrayed “normal” families. I never met one in real life, growing up going from one military base to another. I must have been making noises, so my mother came in and turned on the light. I thought my head was going to explode as I screamed incoherently. The light went back off and I felt her sit down on the bed next to me. “Is it a bad one?” she asked, rubbing my back. I couldn’t form words as badly as it was. I think I was nodding, but not entirely sure. “Are the voices back? Should I take you to the emergency room?’ She prodded. I couldn’t answer her, I hurt so bad. “Well, at least you’re dressed this time.”, she tried joking, it was lost on me as I was almost past the point of comprehending anything. She called for my father to come help her, I was having another episode. I had thought about those words, another episode, for years. What exactly were my episodes? Why did I start having them? Answers that eluded me to this day. My father came in and picked me up as if I was nothing. You would have thought he was the one in the army instead of my mother. I felt as if I was floating in his arms as he carried me to the car. The engine started and felt like sharp shards of glass driving into my brain. Why was this happening to me? With that thought, was it a thought, I drifted down into oblivion.

Once more I woke up in a bed, not my bed, but another in the psych ward at the base hospital. Most times, I wake up somewhere strange, not knowing where I was or how I got there. Sleepwalking they called it/ Strange how it only happened when I got like this. If only I hadn’t had the accident. Since the crash I have been having these headaches and delusions. Mom ran off the road to avoid a deer and we went down an embankment. I came to at the hospital, not this one, a civilian hospital. For two years I have been in this condition. MIgraines, voices and the paranoia that something was wrong. Something bad. My doctors said it was normal for my kind of head injury. I hated them for that, even if it wasn’t their fault. I no longer could attend classes with other kids my age. My “episodes” disturbed them and they avoided me like the plague. I had friends before this horrible thing had occurred. Once upon a time, I had dreams, dreams of going to college, having the normal life that I never had. We were always being transferred from one base to another. The normalist thing I ever had was going to summer camp every year. Sure it was a military summer camp, for the children of the higher ups in the military. My mother was a Sergeant Major in the army, she was an advisor to the chief of staff. This meant we moved around a lot.

As the pain abated, I noticed that I was back in the ward I hated so much. The screams of other patients echoing down the halls. I knew then that I would be staying for another evaluation. How I hated those tests. Having the electrodes stuck to my head once again. I was hoping that I had kept my hair short enough that they didn’t have to shave my head to apply them. Sure enough, a nurse came in with the equipment and I saw the clippers. “Do you have to cut my hair this time?'' I asked her. She looked at me like I should know better than ask, “You know I do/” she replied. “Please, I’ve kept it short. Isn’t it short enough?”, I pleaded with her. “I don’t want you to.” “You know the routine, we have to make sure they are attached properly. These tests are very important to make sure we diagnose you right.” She snapped. I had fought them before on this subject and lost every time. They either hold me down or medicate me so I don’t fight back. I gave in and sat in the chair she had indicated. The pain was almost gone, enough that I could handle the sound as my hair fell around me.

I was led to the MRI room and was instructed to lay on the table so we could begin. I climbed onto it and we began another scan. Hadn’t they taken enough images of my brain? I mean, if they haven’t found anything by now, would they ever? I didn’t fight them on it, I had enough of being strapped down. In the five years since the accident, I learned that I have no opinion on what happened during these tests. I went along with them even if they gave no answers. They could not explain what was going on in my head to make me behave like this. If I didn’t do as they said, I was restrained and they did them anyway. As the machine started doing it’s chunk, chunk, chunk sound, I could feel the pain returning. I could feel the terror building up inside me as the test continued. I have no idea why I had this feeling. I was safe in a hospital, on a military base, what did I have to fear?

“It’s starting to hurt again,” I told them, “I want to stop now. Please!” My pleading fell on deaf ears. “Please, can we stop? I can’t handle it anymore!” I yelled. “Just a few more minutes, we’re almost done. Another fifteen minutes and it’s finished.” Dr. Olift replied. “You know what’s expected, so lie still and let us finish up.” I tried to retreat into my head and talk my headache away. Not now, I thought, just a little longer and it’s done. My head replied with a sharp spike of pain and I thought I heard someone say, “Your not worthy of what’s coming and you know it.” I hoped the darkness would take me then. An escape of nothingness, but to no avail. It felt as if every time the machine did it’s chunk sound, my head expanded, getting bigger as the pain increased. As if as it expanded, the pain grew also. I tried the breathing exercises I had been taught and nothing. I was at it’s mercy as I was with the staff. Why did my mother let this happen to me? Why did she leave and not visit, only coming to pick me up when I was released time and time again? Could she not handle my screams of pain and the pleading for it to stop? Did she not care, only living for the next assignment? And what of my father? He would call every day and encourage me to follow the instructions of my so-called health providers. Never finding a reason for my predicament, only medicating me so I could function between these so called episodes of pain. I felt as if they were torturing me, seeing how much I could take before breaking down once more. Luckily the darkness overtook me before the test was complete.

I once more found myself in my hospital room, this time I had IVs in my arm and they had already attached the electrodes. I was another blabbering patient in this hellhole. I was brought dinner and realized that I had been out of it for most of the day. I picked at the food, not really hungry, knowing that if I didn’t eat, I would be sedated and spoon fed mush. I stuffed the bland, vitamin enriched crap into my mouth and swallowed with as little chewing as possible. Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes , peas and two cookies for dessert. The cookies were the only things that remotely tasted like food. Funny, I thought, one cookie for each year of hell I was in. I hated my mother for not being a better driver, and hated the image of the deer in my head. It leapt out of the way as we went down into the ditch. Why should it have lived when I felt like I had died and was in hell. At least I had a television in my room this time. I turned it on and flipped through the limited channels, settling on a strange cartoon about an adventurer and his talking dog. I was at peace for the moment, lost in the crazy show. A nurse named Carol came in and gave me some meds. How I dislike the feel of the little paper cup my meds came in when it touched my lips. It felt so dry and yet stuck to my lips as I tipped my pills into my mouth. The sweet relief of the water as I swallowed them down. I hated a lot of things now, as if my anger grew worse with each migraine and hospital visit. Seemed like I was angry at everything and everyone. My father had bought me a nice kick bag to take my anger out on. He got it for me after I had blacked out in one of my fugues and attacked a girl in biology class. The last time I was allowed to go to school with the rest of the kids my age. They all thought I was a freak and acted as if I were a monster. Not understanding that it wasn’t my fault for being like I was. I wasn’t born this way. Sure, my mother had a hard pregnancy, in the hospital on bed rest for the last trimester. Most days, I wished she had miscarried me, not wanting to live like this.

After a week of tests, medical and psychological, I was released to go home. Nothing had changed and they could still give no reason for my problems. One stupid doctor suggested it was all in my head, the pain was an illusion that my broken brain had made up. My father bought into it, my mother didn’t. This led to many fights and my father sleeping in the guest room. I overheard them arguing once, about me. Dad wanted to leave and have me placed into an institute that could manage me. Mom told him to go, but I was staying right there with her. I loved my mother at that moment, more than I have since the wreck. I was so glad to be home in my familiar territory. I believe the hospital was more familiar at that point, but I didn’t want to dwell on that. After spending so much time indoors at the ward. I was only allowed to be in my own back yard without being supervised. I was fine with it, it was large and wooded. A fence surrounded the house, too tall for me to climb over. I lost myself in the trees. The sound of the breeze through the leaves soothed my anger and foreboding. There were no animals here, as I wasn’t allowed to have pets anymore. I had a dog once, his name was zero, I had zero interest in it. One day he disappeared and my parents refused to speak of it. It happened when I was at the hospital and I was never told what became of him. I didn’t like the dog, it was always barking and growling at me, making my headaches come on. I had tried to be it’s friend, give it treats and pet it. I was bitten for my attempts. My migraines were bad then and I’m thankful that he is gone now. The quiet empty forest that was all my own was where I felt best. I didn’t have that bad feeling here out in the open. I had built a small treehouse last summer, and dad came out and made it better. It had a small couch up there and a bookshelf. I put pictures up and had a few books and comics stored in it. I was left alone when I was there, my personal haven where I could be alone with my thoughts. This time, as I climbed up the ladder, I had the feeling that something wasn’t right. My books were strewn about the floor. Had I done this before my last trip to the ward? I wasn’t sure, but I never knew what I was capable of. I picked them up and put them back in their places on the shelf. I noticed a new book among the tattered reread ones I already owned. This was a book on conspiracies of World War 1, government experiments on the civilian populace and it’s recruits. It was something I would never read. I preferred sci-fi and fantasy novels, sometimes the occasional horror story. Had I bought this book? And if so, when? Have I read it? Could this be the reason for my last breakdown?

My thoughts of the book were interrupted by the sound of someone on my ladder. I crawled over to the trapdoor and peered down, no one was there. My mind was playing tricks on me once more. I wished I had someone to talk to, that could understand me and my problems. My mind made up people that spoke with me, telling me that I had a purpose. A purpose to harm and never to be loved. I wanted just one time to have a voice that told me I was not a bad person. As I was contemplating this, I heard the noise from the ladder again. I was looking down at the empty space that led downward to the ground. I could still hear it, someone climbing the ladder. I covered up my ears and repeated to myself that nothing was there. Just a trick of my mind was all. I stood up to get myself together and go into the house. I turned to grab my jacket and saw a girl sitting on it. She was my age, I assumed. Never assume, my father said, it makes an ass out of you and me. I had never had a visual delusion before. Only audio hallucinations. I closed my eyes and told myself she wasn’t there. When I opened them back up, she was still sitting there. Only she was staring at me with interest. “What are you doing,” she asked, “trying to make me go away?” I didn’t know how to reply other than to state “Are you real?”/ “Of course I’m real, don’t you remember me? What have they done to you this time?” she said slowly, “It’s me Gabby, Gabrielle, Come on remember. You can do it. You have before, they can’t keep us apart. No matter what they do, no matter where they move you to. I will find you, I always do.

My mind was reeling, was this real? Was I having another breakdown so soon? As if she knew what I was going on in my head, she got up and hugged me. I was taken aback at first and started to resist, but her arms were so familiar, like the nurse in the ward, Carol. It seemed like I knew her so well, yet I was told again and again that she had only been at this base. Not the others, not anywhere that I had been. Gabby released me and stood there looking at me concerned. “They did a number on you this time, didn’t they? Another fine haircut thanks to the United States Armed Forces,” She rubbed my head and it felt so familiar, like we had been here before. Instead of feeling like I was crazy, I felt a huge relief. I sank down to my knees trying to comprehend what was happening. I noticed that her hair was only slightly longer than mine. “Did they do the tests on you too?” I needed to know,”Are you like me or have different delusions?” I had a feeling I already knew the answer, but it escaped me at the moment. She nodded and sat down next to me. “You mustn’t tell your parents that you spoke to me. It will only put us both back into that laboratory they call a hospital. I came up earlier and checked for wires, they listen to us you know. I learned how to find them. Nothing here, they must think you are alone when you come up.” Was I losing my mind? I could vaguely capture memories of us together. In the hospitals and out. I pinched myself to see if I was dreaming or not. “You always do that, don’t you? Like I’m a dream.” she said as I realized I was awake. “Sometimes I find you and sometimes you find me. We will always find one another, we are as one. One mind in two bodies, they made us like that.” My safe place, my sanctuary, had become a place of uncertainty. I had to leave, get out of here and think. Of course, don’t tell my parents. I just got out and had no desire to go back so soon. “C’mon Gen, you know it’s true. I am as real as you are and I hate the ward as much as you do. I don’t want to go back, so hold it together. I brought you the book, the book is full of the things they did to us and to others. I’m going to go now and let you process this. As usual, you need time to think. Just don’t mention me and you’ll be fine.” She hugged me briefly and turned to leave. I watched her disappear down the ladder and out of my sight. I scrambled over to see her go, but there wasn’t anyone there.

I curled up into a ball and thought I was finally losing what was left of my sanity. But the book, the one she brought, was still sitting there. Taunting me to pick it up and read it. It was new, not like the books I already had. Everything was checked out before I was allowed to have it. From my underwear to my snacks, making sure it wouldn’t set me off. I was very sheltered, rarely getting out into public for fear of what I might do. Thankfully my mom was such a high ranking official, that I got the best of care. Even if I didn’t care for it, I was grateful for it in my moments of clarity. But the book was still there. That is all I could focus on for a while, the book was real. I reached out and touched it as if it would vanish into a puff of smoke. The cover was smooth and cold to the touch. I pushed it with my finger and it made a scraping sound as it moved. I sat up and picked the book up. It was a heavy book, being as it looked to be a few thousand pages long. It wasn’t like a normal book cover, with a title and picture on the front. It only had the words ‘1935-1955 Experimentation Log’. Nothing else, just those few words. I opened it and flipped through the pages. They sounded like leaves fluttering in the trees as the wind blew. I shouldn’t have it and needed to keep it hidden. I knew that my privacy wasn’t sacred even here, that my parents routinely came up here to see what I was up to. The same with my room, nothing was ever in the same place that I put it. Where had she gotten it? She knew my name, even my nickname of Gen. How could she know these things if I didn’t know her. I thought of places to hide the book, it couldn’t be in here or the house. I put my jacket on and secured the book inside. I climbed down and looked around to make sure one of my parents weren’t there. Feeling safe, I walked along the rock wall that was around the property. Forcing my mind to think of a safe place for the book. A voice said “The hole behind the loose rock.” I realized I did know where to hide it and walked calmly along until I came to a spot. I knelt down as if to pick a flower and slid the book out of my coat.and onto the ground next to me. I sat down and continued to pick flowers as if I weren’t up to anything. I slowly turned in a circle until I was facing the wall. I reached out and pulled a rock from the wall. There was a large hole there big enough for the book to nestle in. I replaced the stone and picked a few more flowers. Enough to fill a vase and took them back to the house.

As I returned to the house, I could see my parents looking out the window in my direction. I smiled and waved, holding the flowers up for them to see. They smiled and waved back. I held the flowers to my nose and smelled them as if they were the only thing that was on my mind. Mom had a vase all ready by the time I made it into the kitchen. “I haven’t seen you pick flowers in so long, I was thinking your disorder kept you from enjoying such simple things.” I looked at her and replied, “I have been thinking about them for the last few days. I had a dream that I kept a small garden and was so very happy with it. So today I wanted to see if they made me happy and they have.” We arranged them in the vase together and stepped back to look at them. For weeds, they looked pretty good. “Mom, can I have a small garden spot in the back? I know I can’t use most of the tools, for safety reasons. But could you help me plant some? I can do the work from there, the weeding and watering and stuff?” Mom beamed at me, “Of course dear, we can go pick some plants up tomorrow, You must take your meds beforehand, so we don’t have an incident. We can go before school lets out so you don’t have to put up with the kids. Sounds like a plan?” I nodded and smiled bigger. I felt so strange lying to her like that, I just wanted an excuse to be out of their sight for a bit each day. I would take care of the plants and have a tiny bit of freedom. “Can we pick up a few gardening books? So I know what I’m doing? Ones you pick, ok?” Feigning excitement. She seemed relieved and agreed. I grinned like an idiot and skipped up the stairs to my room. “Is it ok if I take a shower? I kinda got dirty out there picking the daisies.”. Feeling stupid for having to ask. “Of course you can, I’ll come up in a minute and give you a hand.” She called back. So far things were good, she lapped it all up as if I actually cared. I would try to get books as big as the one Gabby brought me. I could sit in the sun and read it as if it were a dumb gardening book. I would have to learn some things on growing flowers, just to cover my tail. I was feeling positive it would work out. Mom came up and stood by while I showered, I hated that she refused to let me bathe alone anymore. They had already taken out all the dangerous stuff, since my last suicide attempt. Now I had something to look forward to and it felt good. Like I was in control of myself once more. That night, I ate dinner with a new zest and complemented dad on his cooking. He seemed surprised, “That new medication seems to be working well. Thank you sweetheart, not often you’re in such a good mood.” Mom and I went on to tell him about my interest in gardening and he agreed that I need something to pass the time. My plan was actually coming together and i had hope for the future. At least for now, I thought.

Mom let me sleep in until almost nine the next morning. She woke me up and picked out my clothes for me. They thought the stress of deciding my own outfit would be too stressful and set me off again. It took me a few minutes to remember my plan and I jumped into action. I put on a happy face, which wasn’t too hard to do for once. We went downstairs and I ate breakfast. I then took my meds, glad they didn’t come in the little white paper cup. I didn’t even argue about taking the extra anxiety pill for our trip. They made me a little fuzzy and I was worried that they might foil my plans. Mom had parked out front and it was nice to leave by the front door. I usually used the garage door if I needed to go anywhere. I happily climbed in and buckled up. We drove past the normal shops and went down a long side road. “Dad is out renting a tiller and should have a place ready to go when we get back.”, mom said as we drove down the gravel lane. We turned into a privately owned floral place and got out. We were met by a man who was expecting us, apparently mom had already called him.and told him what we were looking for. When we went inside, they had a variety of plants ready for me to look at. They also had gardening books ready for us too. There were three or four about the same size as my hidden one. I picked up the smaller ones and thumbed through them, not much information in them. I picked up a larger one and thumbed through it feigning interest in a small perennial section. I pick up another and searched for a few flowers that I had talked about. :Mom, look at this one.:, I said excitedly. “It has all the flowers I was talking about. Can you look at it and tell me if it’s alright?” She took the book from me and looked through it, “It’s a good one, tells you in detail how to take care of your garden. I’m sure your father would agree.” She turned to one of the men, “We’ll take this one and let her pick out a few plants.” I smiled as big as I could without letting her know I was up to something.”Go ahead Honey, pick our four or five. We’ll start off with just a few so you don’t get overwhelmed. We will also need some easy to use tools and some gloves. Maybe one of those pad things to kneel on so you don’t ruin your clothes.” I quickly went to the plants and started smelling them, only a couple smelled good to me. “They aren’t in bloom yet, too early in the season. This small rose will give you a lovely smelling flower and is easy to take care of. And this one will grow beautiful flowers even if you forget to take care of it. Here are the primroses your mother said you were interested in. Pick out a couple colors you like.” I turned to mom and said, “Can we get these ones? They are so pretty, I know I can take care of them.” She smiled at me and said, “Yes,go ahead and get them.” The guy rang us up and helped load the car.

We got home before dad had begun tilling the yard. “Can I have a space where it won’t get in the way of your bbq parties? I don’t want someone stepping on them by accident.”. I asked him. “Good idea. We can put it a little further back so that doesn’t happen.” He didn’t look happy about tearing up a small spot in his precious yard. Wasn’t like he took care of it, he paid a kid to mow it for him. Of course, that only happened when I was secure inside the house. I had attacked a boy mowing our yard once when he wouldn’t turn the mower off because it hurt my head. He had called me a freak and I put him in the hospital. Better him than me. After that, I was only allowed to be around a few select people. My grandmother would visit occasionally before she died. Telling the grandest stories of her years serving our country and how she was so proud that my mother had carried on the tradition. Her father and his father before had been enlisted men. It was a family tradition. She passed away before the accident, she never got a chance to see me join up like she wanted. There was no way they would take me now. We picked a nice spot and marked it off for my flowers, back near the trees. I was taken inside and watched dad turn the brown earth up, turning it into a suitable spot for me. They could watch me from the windows to make sure I was safe. That extra pill made me so tired, that our little trip wore me out. I took a nap and when I woke, I found mom had already planted my flowers. I tried not to rage at her for doing my job. I smiled and thanked her for doing it. How dare she do that, it’s my garden and my decision on where they went. With my anger boiling up I went into the bathroom and talked myself down. If I hadn’t had the anxiety pill, I might not have pulled it off. I returned to the backyard and looked over my plants. “Can I have my book now? I want to learn to take care of them properly.” I looked eagerly at my parents, “I can read it in the living room or take it to my tree house, so I’m not in the way.” I followed my mom into the house and she handed me the gardening book. “You can read it wherever you feel comfortable.” I took it from her and sat on the couch and started reading. I read that damn book all day until dinner, fighting the urge to rush out and see if my book was still there. At dinner I discussed what I had read, “I learned that you have to prune your roses before winter, but we can do that later. It’s only spring now, the best time to plant. My primroses will come back every year if I take care of them right.” I kept talking between bites, “The asters I picked are a variety of the daisy. No wonder I liked them right away.” I took another bite and started to say something else, but my dad cut me off. “That’s enough of the flower talk right now. Let’s finish eating and we can go in and you can watch the game with me. If you behave and stay calm. You know how you get.” I agreed and we finished eating in silence other than the everyday banter between my parents. Afterward, my father and I went into the den to watch baseball. I hadn’t watched television with him in months. He got us soda and chips between innings. It was nice, even if it was a lie. I knew he didn’t want me there, restraining himself from yelling at the players. Worried I’d get angry at the little men on the screen and throw something at the television like in the past. I faked being tired and went to bed early. Planning my next step towards reading the book.