Bent But Not Broken Read Free Page B

controlled like a robot. The very worst thing about being in here is the group therapy sessions. These are – like everything else – compulsory.
    The room they hold the group therapy sessions is just off the lounge. It's locked unless we are in it. It's not a big room. It's a bit like a portable at school. The only things in it are a bunch of plastic chairs and a little coffee table. It is painted in soft colours and there are no curtains. There are cushions, though. These are good for hugging and a bit of protection from the feeling of being so exposed by the circle of chairs. Sitting in the circle makes me feel like I am naked. I've noticed the crazies seem to sit in the same place every day. Doctor Hobbit has a trick. He moves his position around in the circle. So you never know if you are going to be next to him, opposite him or wherever. It's kind of freaky.
    We are made to sit in the circle and listen to crazy shit from crazy girls. I reckon they make most of what they say up. I mean, really? One thinks if she has a period she will bleed to death. Another one is convinced she's had a baby and has to get home to look after it. She's thirteen, for God's sake! There's one who's orca fat who just flips her shit for no reason at all. She gets lots of needles. Not to forget Spider Girl. At least she's entertaining when she goes off.
    I refuse to say a word. Why should I? They are all completely loony. Doctor Hobbit says I have to join in. That I have to start to share. Why? What right do they have to know what's happened to me? It's my stuff and it's private. I don't want them to know. While I keep it in my head they can't get me. So I don't say anything in group sessions. I know it pisses Doctor Hobbit off, and I'm glad about that. They might control everything else – but they can't make me talk. Now do you see why it's so awful in here? Please get me out!
    Abigail
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    CASE FILE #2794 ABIGAIL LEE MANUS D.O.B. 02/04/1998
    ENTRY 10: 22/04/2014
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    Abigail continues to maintain her silent, challenging glare. I know that she is listening during group therapy. It's almost like she is trying to work out who's who in the zoo.
    She is extremely strong willed, but does not realise that her silence is counter-productive. Until she speaks she will not begin the healing that she so desperately needs.
    It saddens me that she is so very damaged. She thinks that if she keeps it all inside, she can somehow lock it away. What she does not realise is that such trauma, however deeply buried, will always be within her.
    She has to learn to trust that she can speak about what has happened to her, and that she will not be disbelieved or dismissed. Is this the cause of her lack of trust in me, and by extension, all adults?
    Dr. Harry Nightingale
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    Dear Crystal,
    Today I got the needle for the first time. It was awful. It started in the art session. They have this special room that's always locked unless we are doing some art. The paints are all premixed water-based paints, like in Preps. I guess that's because there's this crazy chick Kayla who eats everything. It's like she doesn't know what's food and what isn't. If they don't get to her in time she eats the magazines. I have even seen her gnawing on the tables! Seriously insane.
    Anyway, I was just mucking about because I have no talent. You know I can't draw for nuts. I guess I was painting our home. It wasn't any good. Just a sort of a house shape. I did put the big gum tree in the front yard in the painting. Then I put in you, me and Mum. Stick figures, really. I don't know what happened. I suppose I just snapped or something. I started banging my brush harder and harder, spreading black paint everywhere. Like I was trying to wipe it all out. Cover it all in black. I didn't realise I was screaming. Doctor Hobbit told me later I was swearing like a station rat. But I didn't hear it.
    I woke up in bed with mesh restraints on my wrists and ankles. This I