The Finer Points of Becoming Machine Read Free Page B

slap her again. ‘You woke up Emma!’
    My mother comes into the room, her eyes red-rimmed and with darker red spots on her face where my father’s hand had struck her. She lays me back down and tells me to hush and go back to sleep.
    ‘Mommy
…
’ I start crying but she slips from my fingers and goes back out into the living room to keep receiving whatever punishment my father had decided she deserved. I huddle under the blanket, clutching Tabitha, and cry.
    I open my eyes. They feel like they weigh a thousand pounds each, and it takes me a few tries to get them all the way open.
    I am surprised to find that tears have collected in a tiny pool under my face on the plastic table. I am groggy and thirsty. My lips are like sand; they’re so dry they’ve cracked and I lick them in a vain attempt to moisten them, but my tongue is like sandpaper and I give up.
    I begin the task of trying to get out of the leather straps on the table. I get my right hand free and about sixty seconds later I have gotten all of my bonds loose. I pick a corner where I can see everything in the room and huddle up in it. 
    A sob threatens to break out of my chest. ‘No, you do not cry, you are metal; machines don’t cry,’ I chant to myself over and over, rocking back and forth. The sob is still there and it is spilling into my chant and pissing me off so I say the chant louder until I am practically screaming at myself.
    A heavy metal clunking sound comes from the door and I look up as it opens. Dr X is in the doorway. He sighs when he sees me. ‘How did you get off the table Emma?’
    I look at him with hurt in my eyes. I don’t answer. I am clutching myself and rocking, staring at him. He walks into the room and an orderly begins to follow him. He turns and stops the orderly and whispers something to him. The orderly looks at me and then steps back outside. I go back to staring at the floor.
    Dr X is standing above me. ‘What happened, Emma?’
    Years of lying, of not telling people anything about my life or what was going on in it kick in, and I refuse to tell him thatthe nurse egged me on. He squats down in front of me when I don’t answer.
    ‘Emma…’
    I look up at him and I can’t help myself; tears are spilling onto my white cheeks. ‘I am a machine. Machines don’t cry.’
    His brow furrows slightly and he tilts his head. ‘You’re not a machine Emma. And you’re not violent. Angry yes, but you’re not violent. What happened?’
    I repeat myself as I stare at the floor, rocking back and forth.
    He sighs.
    ‘Emma… I have to keep you here longer now. You know that, right?’
    I know. But I don’t respond. I just keep rocking.
    Dr X pulls a tissue out of his pocket and hands it to me. He walks over to the doorand talks to the orderly standing guard outside, and a few moments later, he hands me a cup of water.
    I guzzle it, my hands shaking and clutching the paper cup.
    Dr X goes to the door. ‘Take a few minutes and compose yourself Emma. When you’re done, you can come out. It’s almost dinner time.’
    He walks out of the door and I feel sad that he’s gone.
    I wipe my cheeks and run my fingers through my choppy black hair. I steel myself, everyone is going to look at me like I’m a psycho when I leave this room, but it’s better than being in here. I walk past the tear-stained plastic table and ignore it. I squint at the light in the doorway, and I walk through it.
    Pills. Food. Colouring. I pick up my journal. I begin to write.

CHAPTER 4
Machine or ghost?
    December??
    Oh God just look at me now… one night opens words and utters pain… I cannot begin to explain to you… this… I am not here. This is not happening. Oh wait, it is isn’t it?
    You’ve forced my hand to paper, and now the words don’t come, a million things are locked inside my goddamned head. And I still can’t breathe, long after you’ve taken me out of the straps
…
should I count my words here? Do I need to have it
exactly
one page