Chapter 3 of The Adventures of Katie Velvet, by Caitlin Lord

Now we're in another room - where curious girls like Katie are sent away to be stripped of credibility and choices. The breakfast menu in the psych ward offers up the only way to change our fates. Selections of sides and juices by the color are illusions that our voice is still intact.

Katie’s always found strange comfort in her prisons; they come in different forms, you know, and this one lives on such a different part of planet Earth, the address doesn't show up on your map. The membership is so exclusive that the doors have keyholes made of stars, and walls so tight they only open for a song. Sing it for the man behind the pizza counter if you dare, he gives Katie free Italian Ice all night and makes her want to wear her pretty dresses to the store.

This room is silent, cold, with shiny tiles; pencils come in halves in here, there's not much point in writing, Katie’s hospital admission is already underway. After stripping down for God under his cruel florescent lights, she feels like property in a foreign land where no one knows her name.

"Two earrings, gold circles”, Tasha snaps her gum and taps her neon nails as she writes. She takes her time removing objects from the dirty paper bag that carries Katie’s treasures, making catty comments at each item as she writes. “Not real gold”, she says, and makes a point to write those letters big on Katie’s inventory slip. The tired guard is overworked and underpaid; asserts her power like a bully; Katie sees the pain tucked deep beneath her leather skin. On other days, she’d think of something to lift both their spirits, but today her mind is traumatized so bad that she can barely think. She studies carefully how Tasha moves; she’ll need to practice making armor to survive the ride in here.

Katie wonders why her roomies get to leave after a few days, in timely sequence, even though she got the way before they did. Just like with her metal earrings, Katie’s used to flying second class, and in this place, she knows that God is up to something special for her discharge plans.

Oh well, our basement floor is out of soap again today, and towels, no windows anywhere in sight. The heater broke, so 56 degrees will do for now, there's only 2 of us on this floor anyway. That's not enough to hold a group, but isolation's good to help you think. The payphone in the hall is intermittent, and you’ll be lucky to speak with anyone in charge before you stay at least a week.

The outside line will sometimes reach someone you know, but not completely anymore -- no one else but God will understand your story now. He’s got you in a vacuum now, can tune your mind with medicine if that’s what Doctor thinks is best for little girls who lose their way.

After lights go out, Katie lets her salty tears wash all the dirt from each day’s war from off her tired face. She wraps the flannel blanket tight around her for the sensory support she needs to fall asleep. The heavy door opens and shuts, as human eyes look in on her each quarter round the clock, and sound creeps in from secret conversations down the hall.

Sometimes they enter, pacing in a line up to her paper pillow on the plastic bed to see if she’s asleep. Sometimes they wake her up just as she’s falling, jolting her back into focus like a reflex, erasing all the work she did to settle down, she has to start all over now. Katie traces branches with her eyes and waits to face the next disgrace God serves, now that he’s got her in his keep.

In the room that smells like loss and urine, God’s voice is even louder, and he entertains our friends to bedtime stories in HD. We snack on cheez-its & warm pudding, gazing at his pixellated face so he’ll think that we are listening. Meanwhile, our lonely minds weave their own tales, or finish up a puzzle only to find a missing piece.

See that plastic lady, with the weather map behind her, with a spray tan wearing tangerine? She came here too, a couple times, but please don’t ever tell. God f***s her too; he likes me better, but Candy’s fine on nights he needs to rub one out. He lubricates her good for special favors, helped her land her day job, sometimes even pays her rent. God sucked her soul into his server, replacing her insides with his own graphic designs, he always wondered what it’s like to be a girl.

Katie turns into a monster for the four days when she’s bleeding. This period crept up on her, it must be from the meds. God knows her cycle inside out by now, that horny b*****d wants another baby. I already have 3, that’s plenty, with global warming and the price of gas…I told you though, my master runs the show in here, he gets real cranky when he doesn’t get his way. If God finds out my fertile dates, we’ll be so screwed, don't let him see my bathroom trash, okay?

This story’s graphic, but it shows how messed up things can get inside my head since God proposed: Katie feels her cycle start in morning group. No way she’ll risk the asking for a tampon, or her man will surely see. If he knows her time is early, she’ll be fucked. I heard God whisper evil plans to Satan, late last night while they were playing cards.

A trace of Katie's juices leaked onto the plastic chair, despite her tries to hide it. She panicked as she felt God watching from his favorite corner up above. Can she make it to the roll of paper towels before her nosy boss will see? Fake a seizure? Pretend to fall asleep, or simply run and pray the teacher with a heart of gold will offer a distraction? Katie’s mind is racing faster than a train.

Tasha noticed; that we know, the scene unfolding next sounds just like Stephen King. She gossiped to the unit this humiliating story; they teased and taunted Katie constantly for days, in front of men. Wanna know what’s crazy though? That part didn’t even phase her, it was the fear of knowing He knew too that kept her up all night.

See, God said on the morning news he wants to breed her; Katie’s never been so terrified in all her life. He's gonna rape her till she’s pregnant; if it doesn't work, he'll try again another night. Katie screams with all her might for anyone to hear. No one listens, no one's even there. Katie lives alone inside a nightmare that repeats like Groundhog's Day; she can’t wake up no matter how she tries. The doctor wears her favorite sneakers, covers up her cries as paranoia, turns the lights off as he's leaving for the weekend once again.

As awful as this story is, it helps to write, and to remember that I met some angels in there too. Like Mr Rogers says, “look for the helpers, they’ll show up too, when there’s a storm.” Gold can’t buy a ticket to the kind of ride I'm on, I'm learning things I never could in school. How boring would this fairy tale be without some action after all?

It took a year till Katie realized she could choose the songs she listens to again. She threw her phone away, that's really all it took. God roared like thunder, but at least no one is making money while the agents watch her shower anymore.

Sometimes I think God did me a favor. I don’t know where I am in time or space, but I’m writing to you from another side. I used to be too scared to stand outside alone at night, I used to be afraid of unknown things. My heart is raw in places that are wounded, but on the outside I can walk through war, in heels, all by myself. I live without the fear I used to feel from just existing; that makes up for all the apps I threw away.

I’d rather die than keep these words inside for any longer. Katie’s good at keeping secrets, but this one’s way too big for us; we learned in rehab how to turn it over when it feels like that. I know the power of a story, and at least one person’s reading, thanks. I'm super lonely, and just knowing that you're listening makes me feel connected, will you please share this wild fable with your friends?

Leave a copy in the bathroom, in a motel, tucked into a magazine, under a seat. I have a feeling my computer's gonna act all strange after I print this, but you can find me if you need. I'll be here, climbing out of Subspace, at therapy, at meetings, and support groups, all places where the helpers are.

I'm here to say "you're brave, I care, I'm listening", and if no one else said that to you today, I am. Keep going human, don't give up -- you're not alone, I understand.

With love, courage, and tenacity,

Katie Velvet

(and Caitlin Lord)

IMPORTANT PHONE NUMBERS

THERAPIST:

FRIEND YOU TRUST:

FRIEND WHO DOESN'T USE SCREENS:

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