Message from the Edge of Insanity

Dana stepped out of her tiny garden apartment in Oak Park and locked the door behind her. The sunlight began to defrost her slightly chilled body one ray at a time. She walked down the road and smiled at the children at play across the street at the park.

She arrived at the turnstile at the Blue Line station and paid her fare then sat patiently waiting for the train. Once aboard, she began thinking, 'Down the road not across the street. What kind of person would make that up?' The train passed the Medical District and continued into the city. 'Who would put a poster of that where people could see it? Down the road not across the street.'

This is her stop. She gets off and walks toward the building. Her bag is starting to feel heavier on her shoulders. She's crying softly and can't remember when the tears started. She walks into the building. The sterile walls surround her, throwing stark, white light onto her dark skin. She takes the razor from the right side pocket of her jeans as she waits for someone to greet her. Holding the razor in one hand and her dainty wrist with its pulsing veins out in front of her just below the line of sight of anyone standing behind the desk, she makes a small cut. It barely breaks the skin so, she pushes harder and cuts again. Down the road not across the street.

Up and down the road she cuts as tears splatter on the ripped flesh and sting in the open wounds. She calls to the nurse, "Excuse me miss, I think I'd like to admit myself." The nurse ignore her. Dana gathers what little strength that has not yet flowed out of her body and speaks louder but, the words are no longer coherent to anyone but her. "Down the road not across the street." The nurse turns and sees Dana standing there. "Silly, silly poster." She walks toward where Dana is still managing to stand, slicing into her own bloody arm and asks her how she can help her. "Admitted to a psychiatric ward. Northwestern...suicide watch..." "Pardon me miss? Are you looking for a patient here?", the nurse asks. "No watch on this wrist...no time..."

Dana lifts her arm to eye level and the nurse jumps back calling for assistance; calling codes; orderlies rush about, run to her aid, grab the razor from Dana. "Mama?" In the commotion, Dana falls to the floor still muttering to herself, "If I come up missing...green sweatshirt...blue jeans...glasses...white shoes...walls...dark..."