Morphine Ghost

She slapped my face. The guards walked away. I thought they'd stop her. Isn't that what they're paid for? One of them actually smiled before holding the door open for us. I asked him if I'd forgotten to sign something, and he said, "You won't be coming back here." He sounded relieved. Mother kept one hand on my shoulder all the way to the car, her fingernails pressing through my shirt whenever I looked at the building. She said I hadn't been cured. I'd simply become someone else's responsibility.

I don't think they released me because I got better. I think they released me because something started visiting my room after lights out. The orderlies stopped making eye contact. My psychiatrist ended every session early and spent the last few minutes listening to the corner behind my chair instead of speaking to me. On my final morning they returned all of my belongings except the notebook I'd filled during my stay. Mother said I wouldn't be needing it anymore because "she remembers everything you wrote." I never told Mother I'd kept a notebook.