lost and found

“Nooooo,” kicking and screaming I fought against the two burly guys in hospital scrubs grabbed my shoulders. “Please, I didn’t mean to.” I pleaded desperately with my foster mom as the men wrestled to haul me to their van, “It wasn’t me it was her. Come on please don’t let them take me back there. “  She just stood there shaking her head as tried pleading with my eyes. The tears burning behind my eyes threatening to fall finally broke the damn as her words hit me, "I'm sorry Autumn, but you are a danger to yourself and others. Until you can get the blackouts under control you have to go with them.”  As soon the reality of it all set in I let my head fall; my wavy amber locks settling around my face like a shield. Here I was once again being carted off to the psych ward. Sighing as one of the guys helped me into the back of a medical van. Soon after I was strapped to a bench the van started moving.  I was so close to being free too. These blackouts are getting worse and screwing up my life more than it already is.   Sighing I took a deep breath before cursing under my breath, “Damn it all!!!” slamming my head back against the cold steel of the interior of the van. Just my luck as I did, we went over a large speed bump causing me to slam my head back a couple more times.  “shit.” the guy charged with sitting with me in the back yelled, “Watch it, Matt, we are supposed to bring her in not give a concussion.”   “Sorry Nick, that bump always catches me off guard.” the guy up front shouted back.  Shaking his head at the other guys' words nick quickly checked me over. “nothing seems to wrong just small goose.” he sighed in relief.   “And a raging headache,” I mumbled back. Thing is I welcomed it. It would shut out the voice in my head.   My other half, the one that always seemed to land me in the psych ward, Ivy. Oh, how I wanted her to just up and go; leave me in peace. Of course, she can't leave because according to the doctors she is a part of me locked in my subconscious from some traumatic past.  I don’t give a s**t I want her gone she has been nothing but trouble since I started hearing her in my head.  I was eight when she first spoke to me. Said she was my wolf and we would be together forever. At the time it sounded awesome I had just switched foster homes and was having trouble making friends. She was there and no one questioned it thinking I had an imaginary friend I would one day outgrow.   Yeah, like that happened. At nine I started making friends, real friends, and when I tried telling them about her, they just stood there and laughed. To them imaginary friends were for babies; so, I started ignoring Ivy, only talking to her at night or when no one was around to overhear. It wasn’t long before I started ignoring her altogether. To say she didn’t like that would be an understatement of the century. At first, it wasn’t so bad; she would simply talk all the damn time to me. Then it escalated to shouting and screaming. Just the thought of one of her episodes makes me cringe.   To say she gave me headaches would be putting it lightly; they were more like earth-shattering migraines making me so sick I could barely move.  On and on she would go about how I needed to embrace her and listen to her cause I was going to shift soon. I was taking so many stupid pills because of her it wasn’t funny. Mentally I tried putting up a wall between us but she always seemed to be able to break them down. That really pissed me off so I attacked her another way. I guess according to her we were connected mind and body. That is why I started cutting and anything else I could do to hurt myself would shut her for about an hour then the onslaught would begin again.    Ivy of course couldn’t leave it at that. On the night of my 14th birthday, she tried to force herself out so she could take control. I had broken a few bones growing up but nothing and I mean nothing, prepared me for the excruciating pain that ripped through my body. She kept twisted and trying to rearrange my limb and bones to suit her; all the while I was fighting to take back my body. The struggle inside my head left me unaware of my surroundings. I only found out about what went down when I woke up in the hospital three days later.   My foster mom at the time was the one to tell me what happened. After hearing my screams in the middle of the night she had rushed into my room and tried to restrain me; only to get caught in the crosshairs of the battle waging on within me. Her husband had to call 911 to come and sedate me. One needle wasn’t enough nor was two so they had to use three, three f*****g needles to put me out. That’s when I was diagnosed with some mystery strain of schizophrenia and dissociative identity disorder. What I described to the doctors when I woke up and what my foster parents at the time told them left them baffled at some of the details of my case. Unable to fully understand my condition I prescribed pills for whatever they thought would help.  When I was to be released from the hospital a week had gone by. So much can happen in a week. The Cotters had sent me back to the system claiming I was a threat to their well-being. Since of course, I was still a minor and where I was supposed to be housed until they could find me another foster home. Or if some miracle happened and someone actually wanted to adopt me. Yeah, wishful thinking that was just a waste of time for me. Come on, who in their right mind would want me especially when Ivy was an unwelcomed added bonus. The orphanage or transition housing as they like to call it was full so I was set to move into a new foster family home.  The Doversons’  had a beautiful home.it was too big a place for just the two of them so they thought they would foster since Diane couldn’t have kids. Oh, how she gushed the whole ride to their house, my temporary home. They were so excited to have me move in with them I didn’t have the heart to tell them about Ivy.   Life was good for about a year with them. We were happy they tried so hard make me feel like I belonged with them and I was loved.  Throughout that first year with them though Ivy was getting stronger and fighting against the barrier the pills helped with. That’s when the blackouts started. Small at first but they gradually worsened. At least while she was getting stronger, I was too.   The Doversons’ slowly filled their house with foster kids as the years went by.; While I become more and more of threat for their wellbeing. I was sent to the hospital on several occasions each time lasting longer and longer as they tried different variations of pills to get my condition under control. Too bad it never worked very long. Only a couple months would go by each time before I was carted off to the psych ward again.   Here I am once again on my way to my prison cell they call a hospital room. What's worse yet I was some close to being legally able to leave this place. Yeah, I'm a couple of months shy of my 18th birthday and I can't wait to be alone so I can really take the time to learn how to control Ivy. Now I guess I'm looking forward to spending my birthday locked up, at least that's what I like to call when they restrain me.  The van swiftly pulled to a stopped and Nick and Matt getting things ready to hall me in. After unstrapping me they placed me in a wheelchair double checking my restraints were still intact. They didn’t want another incident like when they first brought me in almost three years ago.  I had lost control and ivy I were fighting and I took out one of the nurses assigned to me. Not that they knew it but I wasn’t in the mood to fight it this time. I was tired of fighting and just wanted to be left alone.   That is exactly what they did after getting me settled in my room. My room that was stripped of everything and anything that could be used as something to harm me or someone else.   My prison cell. My hospital room. My home away from home.