Bent But Not Broken by Elizabeth Margaret Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Margaret
Tags: Juvenile Fiction
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her that she feels that she is in control.
Dr. Harry Nightingale
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Dear Crystal,
My sessions with Doctor Hobbit are always in the library. He seems content that I talk about our lives before George. BG, I call it. Like "Before Google." I upped the stakes today. I asked for a laptop with internet access. I figured I'd give it a go. I've got him to put a table and chair in my room, so that I can draw and write by myself. They're not even bolted to the floor! I guess he's trying to show that he trusts me not to chuck stuff around. He doesn't realise that I'll do anything not to get the needle again. Once was quite enough, thank you!
When I made my (okay, optimistic and probably stupid) request he sat back in his chair and pretended to give it some thought. He didn't fool me. He gets paid to mess with heads, so he's good at faking sincerity. Then the bargaining began. He would consider it if I would talk to him about what got me here. The heavy stuff. No chance! I guess we both bluffed, and lost.
Love,
Abigail
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CASE FILE #2794 ABIGAIL LEE MANUS D.O.B. 02/04/1998
ENTRY 23: 09/05/2014
----
Unfortunately I was right about Abigail shutting down in our sessions. She was not interested in talking about the kitten, or her animals. Not even about her early life.
'I want a laptop!' she demanded.
'Why?' I asked.
'It's bloody obvious, you fool!' she replied.
'Then it should be easy for you to explain why you want one,' I said calmly.
'So I can talk with my friends! Even you must have heard about Facebook!' was her angry reply.
'Of course I know Facebook,' I said. 'But it is not a good idea,' I said.
'Why? Why can't I talk with my friends?'
'It's not about being able to talk with your friends,' I replied. 'It's about you coming to terms with what has put you here.'
'I need to talk to someone who's sane!' she shouted angrily.
'Does that mean that you think everyone here is insane?' I asked.
'Well, duh! It's a nut house and you are the head shrink! Of course everyone here is insane!'
'Okay, now we're getting somewhere, Abigail,' I replied.
Her anger was radiating off her in waves. She was making a demand to which she knew very well I could not accede. It was an excuse to avoid acknowledging her pain. A classic attempt at deflection.
'I will not allow you computer access,' I said. 'What we really need to be talking about is why you are here,' I said.
'Not a chance!' was her angry reply.
The rest of the session I watched her select not one, but two books from the shelves. This was a challenge that I was happy to let her win.
Dr. Harry Nightingale
Â
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Dear Crystal,
I haven't told you about the music session we have every week. It's really good. It's run by a bloke called Michael, who's pretty cool despite being a bit old. He must be at least thirty. He plays a wicked electric guitar and cuts sick rocking the place. I know all the girls love it because we always have a great time and no-one loses their shit in the music session.
He gets out lots of drums and stuff, and lets us make as much noise as we want. I don't have a musical bone in my body. Even in primary school all I ever got was the triangle. I have all the rhythm of a white chick!
Today he got us to listen to some old-school rock. I think it was Meat Loaf. Then he said for us to pick any instrument we wanted and try to play along with the song. Of course I was useless, but it was fun. The real surprise was Jenny. When she played the acoustic guitar she could follow the music and made it sound good. Michael made a fuss of her, and she blushed. I could tell she was chuffed.
It's got me thinking. Jenny had to put down her doll to play the guitar. Why don't they try a swap? Even if it works only for a little while, it would be a start for her.
Michael said anyone can learn to make music. That it's in everyone, but some people are too scared to let it out. I reckon that's bullshit. I just don't have any clue about how to
Dr. Harry Nightingale
Â
Â
Â
Dear Crystal,
My sessions with Doctor Hobbit are always in the library. He seems content that I talk about our lives before George. BG, I call it. Like "Before Google." I upped the stakes today. I asked for a laptop with internet access. I figured I'd give it a go. I've got him to put a table and chair in my room, so that I can draw and write by myself. They're not even bolted to the floor! I guess he's trying to show that he trusts me not to chuck stuff around. He doesn't realise that I'll do anything not to get the needle again. Once was quite enough, thank you!
When I made my (okay, optimistic and probably stupid) request he sat back in his chair and pretended to give it some thought. He didn't fool me. He gets paid to mess with heads, so he's good at faking sincerity. Then the bargaining began. He would consider it if I would talk to him about what got me here. The heavy stuff. No chance! I guess we both bluffed, and lost.
Love,
Abigail
Â
Â
CASE FILE #2794 ABIGAIL LEE MANUS D.O.B. 02/04/1998
ENTRY 23: 09/05/2014
----
Unfortunately I was right about Abigail shutting down in our sessions. She was not interested in talking about the kitten, or her animals. Not even about her early life.
'I want a laptop!' she demanded.
'Why?' I asked.
'It's bloody obvious, you fool!' she replied.
'Then it should be easy for you to explain why you want one,' I said calmly.
'So I can talk with my friends! Even you must have heard about Facebook!' was her angry reply.
'Of course I know Facebook,' I said. 'But it is not a good idea,' I said.
'Why? Why can't I talk with my friends?'
'It's not about being able to talk with your friends,' I replied. 'It's about you coming to terms with what has put you here.'
'I need to talk to someone who's sane!' she shouted angrily.
'Does that mean that you think everyone here is insane?' I asked.
'Well, duh! It's a nut house and you are the head shrink! Of course everyone here is insane!'
'Okay, now we're getting somewhere, Abigail,' I replied.
Her anger was radiating off her in waves. She was making a demand to which she knew very well I could not accede. It was an excuse to avoid acknowledging her pain. A classic attempt at deflection.
'I will not allow you computer access,' I said. 'What we really need to be talking about is why you are here,' I said.
'Not a chance!' was her angry reply.
The rest of the session I watched her select not one, but two books from the shelves. This was a challenge that I was happy to let her win.
Dr. Harry Nightingale
Â
Â
Â
Dear Crystal,
I haven't told you about the music session we have every week. It's really good. It's run by a bloke called Michael, who's pretty cool despite being a bit old. He must be at least thirty. He plays a wicked electric guitar and cuts sick rocking the place. I know all the girls love it because we always have a great time and no-one loses their shit in the music session.
He gets out lots of drums and stuff, and lets us make as much noise as we want. I don't have a musical bone in my body. Even in primary school all I ever got was the triangle. I have all the rhythm of a white chick!
Today he got us to listen to some old-school rock. I think it was Meat Loaf. Then he said for us to pick any instrument we wanted and try to play along with the song. Of course I was useless, but it was fun. The real surprise was Jenny. When she played the acoustic guitar she could follow the music and made it sound good. Michael made a fuss of her, and she blushed. I could tell she was chuffed.
It's got me thinking. Jenny had to put down her doll to play the guitar. Why don't they try a swap? Even if it works only for a little while, it would be a start for her.
Michael said anyone can learn to make music. That it's in everyone, but some people are too scared to let it out. I reckon that's bullshit. I just don't have any clue about how to
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