The hall of fame (and other bodily functions)

Ok so it has ben a good long while! Almsot a month but i am so close to them finish line there is no way i can give up on Mi's story now. Hoep the chapter is OK and hope you all enjoy.

The hall of fame (and other bodily functions)

I was the rain beating up against the window of sunshine that woke me up the next day. Yet another reminder of how truly stupid and redundant the names for all of the rooms were. Needless to say there wasn’t one called pissing it down or hell on earth, neither had the room tranquillity been renamed death as I had previously suggested to one of the staff who gave me a good telling off.  

With a sigh I pulled myself to a seating position and swore at the rain for waking me up early. Something about apple gate house just seemed to have bad luck with the weather, it didn’t feel all that long ago that the sun dancing over my face had done the same thing but the raging summer had defiantly packed its bags now, Christmas was coming and all the things that went with it. The happiness, the belief that for one day there could be peace on earth  and of course we were all told to spare a thought for those who were less fortunate, people  in third world countries, the children dying from dirty water and the mother who can’t get to a hospital. Children under our vary noses that were hurt at the hands of abusive parents but in reality no one really ever thought of any of that. Fairy lights had a habit of camouflaging pain, or at least as humans we all knew when a fake smile had to be applied in a double layer. Even my mother would try at Christmas. Would buy luxury food and some presents and even for a few minutes thought Jesus was going to be her savour before she found that vodka tasted sweeter and took less belief.

Sighing to myself and trying to tell myself that things could change I wrapped my bright pink Hello kitty dressing gown that Esmee had bought me from my DLA money around me, scribbled a note to the staff the I had gotten up early so was going to steal a shower so they didn’t freak out when they came to wake me up and found I wasn’t there, then made my way to the bathroom.

The second floor bathroom coincidently also contained the guest book, or more accurately the guest wall.  For some reason in this most unlikely of places staff had dedicated one of the sunshine yellow walls as a mural of past “gaters” to sign their names with permanent marker when they left and if they wished to write something small and positive or inspirational about their recovery it was welcomed. It was the wall of fame for the ones who survived. If you managed to have your name written on it, it meant your psychiatrist had signed on the dotted line and you had your ticket out of there.  If you had failed, if you left in a hurry … or in a casket, your name was erased from the buildings memory. Suicides were not rewarded, not even if before the last brutal act you had been fighting the losing battle for years. You would be denied the tiny place on the sunshine walls of the second floor bathroom. There was where you could be immortalised for a life time if you were good and strong but let’s face it, it was hardly Hollywood’s walk of fame. If you earned a place on that wall, you were still in the gutter.