In the western part of Virginia to where the humid atmosphere rises over the summer, where the amount of the falling leaves was enough to cover a small house or two, where the rays of the sun were faintly throbbing in the eyes of those who dare walk underneath the heat. It was the Wilders family who lives in a large middle-class village of Beech Bottom located in Brooke County and the said village was considered part of the Steubenville - Weirton Metropolitan area. Residents in the village find a lesser portion of living in poverty than most places in the state, in fact, about 93% of commuters drive to work.
Sadie Wilders has a soft, wavy, waist-long brunette hair with very big curls and that she twists in a perfectly tight bun every time she leaves the house for school. And I guess if she only lets her hair to freely flow by the cool winds, men and even women at school would have been so gentle and nice to her, unfortunately, the tight bun was part of her daily existence.
And I just noticed that the pointed part of her nose has a shape common to a leprechaun, but looked all fine if it wasn’t of her well-sculptured lips. With deep bluish eyes, you can always sail, they set the mood of peace and serenity that it can light up a five o’clock morning sky every time she blinks them. She never told me about it, I have perceived it myself the day I jogged right past her, that happened thrice.
She has this mannerism like cracking her knuckles together with closing her eyes as if ran out of patience or in pain, I don’t know.
Have I told you that Sadie assisted in a hospital at a very young age; she’s only 19 I will tell you. While I walk on the sidewalk to buy pain relievers in the drugstore, I saw her about to enter the Wheeling Hospital.
“Hello, Wheeling lady! Not to be rude but I wonder what’s in there?” I asked in my most gentle way.
“Well, you know, doctors, nurses, wheel chairs, electrocardiograms, rooms, oxygens. And that’s supposed to be a hospital,” she sarcastically answered and then goes off without saying goodbye.
“My tone might be quite offending, she did not treat me that way yesterday,” I whispered to myself, “well, she must be lucky enough I approached her first.”
But of this I am certain, there’s a feeling inside me that unconsciously knowing her all by myself has never been an accident, maybe I was fated this way.
Sadie Wilders was enrolled in Carlow University located approximately 36 miles from Beech Bottom. It was a small private non-profit university with a population of roughly 2,413 mostly females because the institution was originally a college for women and men were only admitted on 1945.
I assumed it is never too late to introduce myself. I am Brandon Jones, a graduate of Social Sciences at Carnegie Mellon College near Carlow.
It was not in Sadie’s personality that she deserves to be hated by many. I mean, my nerves, I would not befriend her if that was the impression I got the first time I hung out with her. Half of the people at school literally and metaphorically hate her from head to toe.
“Here comes our self-righteous friend who eats on her lap in the cafeteria the rest of the school days,” said Anya.
“Come on, join me!” said Sadie as she turns her back while carrying the books she has just finished reading and she was about to return them to the library.
“Don’t mind.” She disgustingly answered.
Anya Hoffman used to be Sadie’s close friend. And she grew up in a rich family of lawyers and doctors. The reason people have to excuse her for being so dominant and arrogant.
The times when they were still friends, like normal friends would go doing: sleepovers, revealing long-kept dark secrets, talking about attractive men at school, and countless others, they seemed all right then. They were not the types to whom you dig all your energy just to get along with; in fact, they have plenty of friends around the school. Barely a day goes by without having a chit-chat with someone whom they just met the first time. Anya has always been the one who initiates a talk and as days flew so fast she noticed something strange with her friend.
“How you two are getting along?” she asked while munching Skittles in front of the laptop.
“Who? Two?” she answered back surprisingly with doubtful eyes.
“The Jones guy and you.” Anya repeated with a playful grin.
“What did I tell you about him?”
“Well, that he’s dating you weeks back?” she said as if unsure.
“Oh, I never said that plus I never knew a Jones,” she ended.
With a questionable mind, Anya turned off the computer and pulls her blanket to sleep, “Goodnight, Sadie.”
That was the last night Anya and Sadie were fine together, and the overnight was all because of one school project in which they were partners.
There were series of terrible situations to which Anya and Sadie were involved. Their friendship got lost as fast as the bursting of a bubble. No one knows how, even them.
Gone are the days when Sadie actively participates in extracurricular activities the same thing as attending classes every day. There came a point I had seen her walking down the stairs of Wheeling Hospital, without hesitation, I pulled over and drew myself closer to her and finally asked,
“What’s in here? You were always frequented going here. I rarely see you at school grounds; professors were wondering what went wrong. Days allotted for special exams are over. You need a ride?”
She panicked and screamed all over the place and I was clueless what was going on. Did I do something wrong? I tried to reevaluate my conversation with her minutes back, I proved myself guiltless. That was not the first time she ran havoc.
“Oh God, bless her,” he murmured with his palm on his face.
Maybe it was a sort of pressure and stress she has been experiencing in assisting mentally ill patients at the hospital. So I assumed, leaving her all alone would be the best remedy to cure her emotional confusion.
To calculate how long have I known Sadie since we moved here in West Virginia including the days we did not talk and the days we were not together, I have here a total of nine months not to mention the number of days we spent since childhood because that cost two lifetimes.
It was quite saddening that the girl who rode in merry-go-round to rinse down her fears was not the very girl of today who, even giving her the world, cannot merry-go-round to drown away all the mishaps bugging her entirety. She was living a life with a fear-driven purpose.
In spite of everything I know about this one Sadie Jones regardless of whether who she was or who she is or who she becomes, without her knowing what I feel, I love her dearly, truly. Perhaps, only when my family decided to not move in to Salt Lake City in Utah five years ago, I would be given a lot of chance to clear all the heart-devouring teenage emotions in my stomach.
Sadie cannot afford to attend the university with no apparent reason, as I observe she wasn’t that sick. On my part, that meant not seeing her anymore unless I go visit to their house. But there is one thing she was making herself busy aside from cracking her knuckles; it was regularly spending three hours at the hospital. I just wonder if she works there, she must be devoting of not less than eight hours.
Until one night, she was about to enter the hospital as if she was from a fight, her favorite orange shirt was ripped, smudged with grease, and her hair was loosen from being tied.
“It’s late, I’m going to drive you home,” I told her with pitiful voice.
She didn’t breathe a word; she just nodded and wrapped her arms around my waist. I heard her heart heavily pounding and her hands were trembling.
We were standing in front of their house and no one was home, so she agreed to stay at our house just for a night. My parents were on a vacation, a free trip to Bahamas; it was my brother’s gift to my mom and dad before he got married.
Sadie quickly ran into the living room to sit on the sofa and to keep herself warm in front of the fireplace.
“Brandon, may I ask you a very important question?”
“Oh yes, sure. Anything.” Brandon answered while brewing black coffees.
“You sure to let me doze off with these wet clothes on?”
“I never thought I am that stupid, Sadie. I’m sorry. Here.” Brandon answered with a red face.
Sadie fell off the carpet due to a very tight sleep. I passed through the guest room door as soundless as I can while I carried her on both arms and rested her slowly on the bed. I exited the room as I entered.
Minutes had flown by, and I heard her snoring at the top of her voice. I closed my eyes for about 20 minutes, and she screeched like she was having a nightmare. I sprinted with full rush and forcefully opened the guest room door, right in front of my face, she was sweating profusely and the shirt I lent her sipped every salt-taste water from her body.
“Don’t worry; someone was here for you, just a bad dream, okay?” Brandon pampered Sadie.
“I’m scared! I dreamt I was sleeping and when I woke up, I saw several replicas of myself. One was standing on the door, just standing. The second one was mutilating her pulse with a pair of scissors, and the other was kind of scratching the wooden floor with her razor-sharp nails,” she said with heavy breath.
“Everything’s gonna be alright, believe me. I will never leave you,” said Brandon and whispered to her, “Ever.”
Because of the outlandish nightmare of Sadie, she had something in her mind that she wanted to find her real self. The psychiatrist told her she’s suffering from a multiple personality disorder based on the psychological tests, assessment examinations, several diagnoses, and all. It was recorded there that on a Monday, she was the violent Victoria, on a Tuesday she was the timid Jenna, and on a Wednesday she doesn’t even know what her name was, who she was, everything.
Two days after Sadie had an overnight in our house, I went to a bookstore to find a certain book I have been dreaming buying for a long time, that day was only my free time to roam around places as I desire. A close friend of mine way back in middle school worked at Wheeler Hospital had seen me while I hand money to the teller.
"Hey buddy! How are you? What do you do?" Bob Runther pat me on the back with mild force.
I hadn't seen him for about three years. To my surprise, I replied, "Bob! Haven't seen you in a long while, dude. I'm perfectly fine. What do you do?"
"Well, still confine at Wheelers', assisting. But for the next three months I'm going to leave and will go job hunting, maybe in Las Vegas. Sick and tired of patients, they're too hard to handle. You know mentally ill ones."
The grin look on my face faded in no time the moment I heard Wheelers Hospital, I thought of Sadie and what she's been suffering for. But I supported my confused mind with optimism and asked, "That Sadie Wilders, know her? She's assisting in there, too."
"Remember when I just said "too hard to handle?" I was actually referring to Sadie Wilders.
"Nothing. See you around. I'm so late for work. It's nice to see you again," Brandon responded with a cheerful voice and spirited face as he turned his back running from where he stood.
At the back of his mind, "It was all clear to me. Stopped school, Wheelers everyday, unpredictable mood, self-destructive."
For over billions of people, why her? It's not that I blame God for all of these, but I don't know. I don't know what to feel and what to think of.
On a Monday at around ten o'clock in the morning, her mom called me and without any second thoughts, she told me about what happened to Sadie a few hours back.
"Brandon? Brandon! Sadie locked herself up in the bathroom and I heard the faucets harshly flowing all over the floor," Aunt Eliza called in a weakening voice.
I never asked the details and I hurriedly answered, "I will come over, Aunt. Just give me a bit."
The moment I got in to their house, I rushed my feet straight to the bathroom and violently pushed the door with my body repeatedly until the bathroom door gave up. I found Sadie as she mutilates her pulse and throat, her legs were sprawled like a dead eagle. I seized the knife at once, it was an adrenaline rush that functioned.
"Sadie! Sadie! Cool down. Brace yourself, Sadie." my voice trembled as I say those words.
She was unconscious. All of a sudden, she woke up.
"I don't know who I am, do you know me? Please tell me who I really are," she asked with tears both falling from her eyes.
Her mom heard all the conversation and had an inkling that her daughter had lost her mind. She then came across to her mislaid mind that her Sadie might bring shame to their family and before everyone gets to know what she thinks will be a family humiliation, she made a move.
Sadie Wilders was sent to Mental Health Services near Beech Bottom, hoping for her recovery if possible. She was abandoned by her family; it was such a disgrace on their part to have her around.
Days get closer and closer before her birthday, as usual, it was like another day that had gone by. Nothing special. Nothing changed.
No expert psychiatrist can cure what Sadie Wilders is going through. Because it was only a fight between her and herself. Sadie had killed the self out of her, the only way she will win. A battle that has no ending unless death follows.
I had always thought of Sadie restore to health, to tell her how I really feel, to tell her how I want to spend the rest of my days in her arms, to her alone I will taste perfection. But every time I think of things going a certain way and then they don’t, it’s very complicated to get by.
Well, it was always true that one person can get a lot done in seven months and that excludes ditching memories with Sadie, she will forever be in my heart.
In the zenith of the daybreak, birds begun singing their morning songs, and the heavens are perfumed with the fragrance of earth and sky, I can always feel the warm gentle winds crawling through my face as I walked and sat by my favorite waterfront spot beside the docks where I await the rising of the sun. The stillness haunts me. Another day, my third lifetime already started yet nothing has changed.
