Chapter 4

Don't tell me that you care
There really isn't anything, is there?
You would know, wouldn't you?
You extend your hand to those who suffer . . .
To those who know what it really feels like
Like that means something.
And maybe I don't have a choice . . .
Maybe this is a cry for help . . .

~ 'I Do Not Want This' by Nine Inch Nails

Robyn gaped at the man. His words had knocked the air out of her lungs. The frank tone of his voice, the flat look in the man's eyes told her that he truly believed it.
Then she did the only thing she could do in that situation. She laughed at him. "You . . . you think I'm a schizo?" Robyn chuckled. "I mean, last time I checked, I wasn't hallucinating random imaginary people and raving about it." She shook her head; unable to control the stray chuckles she got out of an idea so preposterous to her.
It didn't take Robyn long to figure out that the other two weren't laughing. She inspected Mr. LeBeck's solemn face, and then turned to look at the doctor's. Her laughter faded, but she still thought the idea was ludicrous. She knew that she wasn't sick like that. She would know if her own brain was schizophrenic, wouldn't she?
"It is one of our concerns," Dr. Morhavec stated, and then frowned again at Mr. LeBeck. " Although we do not entirely believe that you truly have it. Please do not be alarmed by Mr. LeBeck's outburst, Ms. McCarthy," he reverted his voice to be more soothing.
"Her mother was a schizophrenic, doctor," Mr. LeBeck argued. "Frankly, I think that is more than enough cause to do the proper testing. She could very well be carrying the disease.”
Whoa! Robyn did a double take on her caseworker. What kind of crap was he trying to pull? Did he *want* her to have it for some reason?
"Mr. LeBeck," Dr. Morhavec shook his head. "In due time. For now, let us focus on the past week or so. Apparently, all this occurred after an attempted assault?"
Robyn nodded slowly, starting to feel like Alice in a twisted wonderland so unlike the life she lived a little over a week ago.
"Since then, and correct me if I'm wrong at any point," the doctor told her. He pulled out a pair of red glasses and perched hem on his nose as he began reading from the documents. " Well, we'll start here. A Dr. Suvorov, who reported that you had large bruises on your back, arms, and mysterious red . . . burn marks on your arms, as well, checked you out. Can this be accounted to the attempted assault?" Robyn nodded uneasily. "No signs of drugs in your system, no alcohol, and you were not . . . taken advantage of."
"No," Robyn shook her head.
Dr. Morhavec nodded. "I am going directly by the written report of Clarice's statement now. He began to recite back the past few days’ events from Clarice’s point of view, down the description of the dreams she had had. Robyn winced when he read what she had said while she was sleeping, and by the time he as done she wanted to crawl into a hole. Why couldn’t she control what she said in her sleep? Now what am I going to do? She thought despairingly. How do I explain this without sounding like I’m an honest to God schizo?
Dr. Morhavec put the report down and peered up at Robyn with sad blue eyes. “I have seen the tape of your most recent nightmare, Ms. McCarthy." At the surprised look on her face, he explained, "We had requested an episode be recorded to conduct a thorough evaluation. It worried me, Ms. McCarthy. At night, you seem to become not only a danger to yourself, but a danger to others, as well. This is through no fault of yours, it is merely a fact. Depriving yourself of sleep, my dear, is not going to make them go away."
Then what is? Robyn pleaded silently. "So you think . . . I have schizophrenia because I dream about this kind of stuff?" Which is still completely ridiculous.
Dr. Morhavec shook his head. "Not necessarily. Dreams," the doctor sighed, "are a hard thing to pin down. Recurring dreams like this are not a good sign. Sometimes they mean nothing, and sometimes they mean illness: depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder. You are on no medications at this time, am I correct?"
As Robyn shook her head, Mr. LeBeck added, "She has never been diagnosed with anything more serious than the flu in a number of years."
The doctor nodded. "Your past history is also quite discerning, Ms. McCarthy. There is a history of schizophrenia in your family, as Mr. LeBeck has pointed out. And you suffered from mental and physical abuse, both from your mother and father, for a number of years until you were placed in foster care. You lived in Japan then - Toyama?"
"Yes," Robyn replied in a small voice. She didn't like being reminded of her past, and she liked to think she had pretty much gotten over it. However, every once in a while it would still grab her by the gut and she would remember how it had all felt, like now. She decided that this evaluation royally sucked.
The doctor continued questioning her on her education, her friends, and her home life. He sent Mr. LeBeck out of the room to talk to her privately over a half hour later, and questioned her extensively on the dreams and nightmares she had when she was a child up until now. Robyn, for the most part, was able to tell the truth about them, playing off the things she said as directly related to the things in her nightmares - nothing in real life.
By the time it was over, Dr. Morhavec was quite certain what his diagnosis would be. He was almost certain something traumatic had happened to make these particular nightmares start, and perhaps she had blocked it out of her memory in an effort to deal with it, only now it was coming out subconsciously. Nevertheless…
“There is one thing that must be done, Ms. McCarthy, before we continue." She raised an eyebrow, and he led her to the door of his office. It opened, and two men in white lab coats stepped in.
Fear gripped Robyn. "What's going on?"
"We need to run a PET scan to discern whether or not you have schizophrenia, for precautions,” the doctor explained calmly. Seeing the alarmed look on her face, he added, “It’s nothing to worry about, Ms. McCarthy. It is a simple test, and then you may leave knowing whether or not you carry it for sure.” He motioned for the men to escort her down, and Robyn looked back at the doctor incredulously before the door was shut. Their shoes hitting the floor echoed as they walked briskly down the hallway, and Robyn was too stunned at how quickly things were happening to do anything but listen to the one man chatter away in her ear.
"Excited for your first PET scan?" the young man asked her.
“Uh, no,” she said bluntly.
He chuckled. “Most people aren’t. My name’s Phil, and I’ll be doing the procedure.” They reached an elevator to go down and got in. “Once we hit the ground floor, we're going to give you a radio pharmaceutical, and after that we’ll have to wait about an hour -“
"Whoa!" Robyn interrupted. "An hour? Why so long?"
The elevator door opened, and the three stepped out into a hallway with a laboratory on the left. "To give the radio pharmaceutical time to reach your brain."
The two led her through a door into a small examining room, and Phil motioned for her to sit on the hospital bed. Wary of what would come next, Robyn sat slowly down and watched as the other man left.
"Okay, first we need to take a little blood." He turned towards her and held out a small needle. “Please hold out your index finger.” Brow furrowed, Robyn reluctantly did as she was told. He drew the blood quickly, and she wasn't able to suppress a wince as he did. This isn't fun at all, Robyn moaned to herself as he put a small gauze pad on her finger and wrapped it with a band-aid.
He turned his back for a moment, and when he turned around again, Robyn’s eyes took in what Phil was holding. “Why are you holding another needle?" she asked incredulously.
The young man smiled as he walked towards her. "The radio pharmaceutical has to be injected into your blood stream.” He motioned for Robyn to lift up her sleeve, and he swiped the area with an alcohol swab before sliding the needle into her arm. Robyn made a pitiful noise and felt tears sting her eyes. That had really hurt! When he finished, he bandaged it up and patted her shoulder. "All done," he announced. "There's a waiting room just across the hall, where you can sit and relax for the next forty or so minutes, okay?"
Robyn nodded forlornly. She slid off the bed and walked slowly out of the hall, finding the waiting room quickly. It was completely empty of people, and there were no magazines to read.
"Wonderful," she muttered. "What am I supposed to do for forty minutes?" She sat down on one of the chairs and tried to watch some of the news on the TV in the corner. She quickly grew bored with the stock market reports and closed her eyes. She was still pretty tired, so it was no wonder she dozed off a few minutes later.
When she woke up, only a half hour had passed, and now she had a faint headache from sleeping funny in a chair. Groaning, Robyn scrubbed her hands over her face. She needed a shower, and she didn’t want to be here. Why did this have to happen to her?
Face it, Robyn, fate has never worked out the way you wanted it to, she told herself. And it never will. Murphy's Law, remember? Anything that can go wrong will go wrong. And that was only number one. There were eight of them. No doubt she would hit all eight before this was over.
For a moment, a brief flicker of fear clenched her gut. What if they really found something? Would she become like her mother? The mere thought of turning into her mother or being anything like her made her want to vomit. Numerous times. It felt odd to think of something being wrong with her brain. She didn't feel like there was anything wrong with it, but how could someone tell? Did real schizophrenics and people with other mental diseases feel anything wrong with their brains, or were they merely going by what everyone told them was wrong with it? Did they feel different because so many people had told them they were different?
The door to the waiting room swung open, and Robyn sat upright. A woman nurse and Phil stepped in. "All ready?" Phil asked with a grin.
"As ready as I'll ever be," Robyn muttered.
She followed them to a large room, and Robyn looked around. Monitors were on the left side of the room along the wall, and a circular contraption was near the middle. It had a large round opening where a metal bed jutted out.
“Why don't you lay down there and relax until we're ready. You must keep perfectly still during the scan, so try not to move at all once it begins."
Robyn nodded and took in a deep, shuddering breath before hoisting herself on the bed. The metal was shockingly cold against her palms, and she clenched her teeth to stop the chattering against it. She swung her legs up and lay down. It was uncomfortable, especially around her shoulder blades and head pressed against the metal. It'll be over in a few minutes, Robyn told herself. This really isn't that big a deal. People get this done all the time.
Phil and the nurse came back. They positioned her properly, and when they finished, they stepped back from her. "Ready?" Phil asked again, and Robyn nodded once and closed her eyes. "Now, remember, stay absolutely still. No head twitching." Robyn cracked a weak smile, and then the machine whirred to life.
The scan took about fifteen minutes, and when it was finished, they let her sit up. "The results should come in a few minutes for the Radiologist to look over for you." Robyn nodded and chewed on her lip as she waited. They had her get up and move to a chair in the room, and it wasn't long before the doors swung open and a Chinese man walked jauntily in.
He looked at Robyn and smiled. "You're Ms. McCarthy?" She nodded. "I have good news. There was no indication of any type of schizophrenia present in your brain, so you can rest easy."
Robyn let out a sigh and couldn't help but grin at the man. "Thanks. Can I go now?"
"I believe Dr. Morhavec is waiting just outside to speak with you. Good day, Ms. McCarthy."
She shook the man's hand, still not able to keep the smile off of her face. She had known before that she probably didn't have it, but it felt good to have it confirmed that she didn't have it. "You, too."
The white haired, Santa Clause faced doctor gave her a smile. "I'm delighted with the results, Robyn, as I'm sure you are. That's one less thing to worry about, and it was a big one." His smile faltered slightly, as Mr. LeBeck walked up. "However, that doesn't erase the symptoms you have been having. You will go back to the shelter tonight, Ms. McCarthy, but . . ." he paused, and Mr. LeBeck nodded. Apparently, they had discussed a lot while Robyn had been away, and the nod and look passed between the two made her incredibly suspicious. "Your stay there might be a short one."
"Why?" Robyn asked. "You can't be placing me with a family already, can you?" Although that might be a step in a better direction. Families were so much easier to fool and get away from. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea.
"I'll explain very soon," Mr. LeBeck promised. He took Robyn by the elbow, and she shook it off uneasily, ignoring the look he gave her. Maybe all of this would help smooth out the rough edges that made dealing with this kid so difficult. She'd been dull and resistant of the foster facilities for years, and the man only hoped she would get straightened out as well as cured. It took him the better part of the hour to convince the doctor that the place he had chosen was a good one; less expensive.
Twenty minutes later, Robyn was being escorted out of the New York State Psychiatric Institution and into Mr. LeBeck's car to drive her to New York Foundling. They were silent as he negotiated the traffic while Robyn stared at the man who had been her caseworker for the past five years out of the corner of her eye. He wasn't a happy man, but he had been nicer to her when she was younger. As she got older and started to run away more, he got more irritable, and Robyn started to dislike him. It seemed like whenever he spoke with her, he managed to belittle her or have the 'I know what's best for you' type attitude. She couldn’t stand people with that attitude.
"I know you'll try to run away again," Mr. LeBeck spoke, startling her. He kept his eyes on the sunny road and the traffic in front of him, and Robyn narrowed hers at him. "I've already taken precautions to make sure you do not. Nothing can be gained by you trying to live on your own right now, which you obviously cannot if the past week has been any indication."
Here was another person that Robyn would have gladly hit. Her resentment for the man grew, but all she could do was glare at him. She didn't trust herself to speak at the moment.
"Fortunately, this behavior you've been showing can be helped." Mr. LeBeck began to look faintly pleased with himself, and his voice turned condescending. "What you need is to rest, Robyn. You don't need to be around the streets of New York anymore, and I admit you probably need a break from foster families altogether."
Normally, that would have sounded reassuring, but in this case it sounded kind of ominous. "So, I'm staying at the foster home?"
Mr. LeBeck shook his head no. "Somewhere safe from the bustle of the city. By the time you're back in school in September, I can promise you that you'll feel a whole lot better about all of this."
She really didn't like the sound of that. "Where is this place?" She meant for her voice to come out normal, but it came out kind of small in the enclosed space of the car.
The man just smiled blandly and patted her shoulder. "In Oakburg. Be patient, Robyn. In the meantime, we'll see about getting some different clothes for you. If we're lucky, the McCarthy's kept the ones you left behind. You didn't think to bring clothes with you when you ran away from there, did you?"
Robyn bristled and gave him a dirty look that he ignored. She opened her mouth to tell him that yes, she did think to bring some with her because she wasn't a total idiot like he assumed she was, but then thought better of it. He'd ask where they were, and she didn't want to bring further ridicule upon herself by saying she'd lost them, which she might as well have done. They were at Sheila's, and it wasn't like she could go and get them. Instead, Robyn kept silent and stared moodily out the front windshield, keeping her eyes trained ahead on the traffic for the rest of the way to Foundling.
When they arrived, Robyn felt old resentment well up in her, and then ignored it as she got out of the car and went inside.
She had barely sat down to eat lunch when her caseworker came in and stated that the McCarthy's did indeed have some of her clothes, and were bringing them over in a few hours. Pleased, Robyn allowed herself to be led to the room she had shared with three other girls by a social worker named Karen. When she went in, only two girls were there, and she didn't recognize either of them.
"We had some pajamas ready for you here," Karen remarked, gesturing toward one of the two dresser sets in the room. "But of course you'll have your old clothes to wear when they come in. We'll have to get you up fairly early, so don’t stay up too late.”
"Kay, thanks," Robyn mumbled as she sat down on her old bed. She found the two girls staring at her curiously, and she gave them a look that had them turning away and minding their own business.
One of them, however, couldn't keep her mouth shut. "Are you new here?"
Are you stupid? "No," Robyn responded dryly. "Just been gone. You?"
"Been here a couple months." The girl studied her shrewdly through brown eyes, and then smirked. "So, you're headed off to Oakburg. What’s wrong with you?”
“Excuse me?” Robyn raised an eyebrow.
The girl giggled, a high-pitched sound that made Robyn cringe. "Do you have any idea what's in Oakburg?"
Fear started to form fingers trailing up her spine, and the redhead's eyes narrowed. "No, what is it?"
"It wouldn't help you to find out," she replied pleasantly, staring up at the ceiling. The other girl, a blonde of about twelve or thirteen, kept quiet and watched the exchange from her bed across the medium sized room. "You'd just freak out or something."
Too late for that, Robyn thought. "Look, I don't care if it's gonna help me or not. What's in Oakburg?"
The brunette turned on her side and propped her head up with her hand. She was smiling vaguely. "I had a friend go there once, from another foster home. She'd been hallucinating stuff and acting all weird. Then one morning, she was gone. Didn't know where she went until I started asking some of her roommates. They took her early in the morning, like you. That was about two years ago. I haven't seen her since. She might still be there if they thought she was sick enough."
No way. Oh, no way. Robyn felt sick to her stomach when things, events started to piece themselves together as the girl spoke.
" You look kinda pale," she chuckled faintly. This Robyn knew. She was pale and her eyes were wide. She knew, but she wasn't willing to say it out loud. So she'd say it for her.
The girl leaned forward and smiled semi-mockingly. Her voice dropped to just above a whisper, drawing out the tension that had the other girl sitting so straight you'd think her spine would snap. "Some people call it a hospital. Others call it an institution. Me, however . . . I call it a loony bin."
Robyn looked away and breathed in harshly through her nose. No way, there's no way they would send me there! She thought angrily. Can they do that? They can't just do that, they would've asked me, told me way ahead of time if they were thinking of that, and they . . . they can't decide something like that without me!
She finally noticed the smirk on the brunette's face and managed to give her a dirty look before standing up and stalking out of the room. It didn't take long for her to find Mr. LeBeck, who was in discussion with Karen.
The man turned when Robyn reached him. "So . . . mental hospital," she said, keeping her voice carefully void of anger. "This is the place of ‘rest’ you were talking about?”
Karen raised her hands in a placating motion, and Mr. LeBeck pinched the bridge of his nose before speaking." Yes, there is a health facility in Oakburg, and that is where you will be staying."
Robyn's fury and fear flared. "Why?! What made you think you couldn’t tell me this? When were you going to tell me, when we arrived? And what makes you think I would want to go?!" Her chest heaved in to draw a ragged breath against the panic sliding up her throat." You can't just decide that for me, can you? Shouldn't you people have consented to me first, it shouldn't be your decision to hospitalize me!"
"I was hesitant to inform you because of this exact reaction," he explained wearily. "Robyn, please calm down and let me explain -"
"You had your chance in the car!" she told him angrily. She was working herself into a fine state of alarm and she knew it, but she couldn't seem to stop it from happening. She couldn't control the tremor that shook her voice when she asked, "What am I being put there for? I'm not a schizo, so why?"
Mr. LeBeck hesitated, but thought better of not replying at the look in his charge's eyes. "I have not been privileged with a copy of the diagnosis prompting admission, but you've shown a lot of signs of depression over the years that concerned Dr. Morhavec. He feels the only way to help you get better at this point is hospitalization -"
"You're going to put me away cause I'm depressed?" Robyn asked in disbelief.
Mr. LeBeck breathed noisily out of his nose and lightly gripped Robyn's arms for emphasis, not letting her shrug him away. "You're clinically depressed, Robyn," he admitted, quietly to keep the conversation from other ears. "You've had the signs for years. You have a phobia that needs to be dealt with, and Mr. Morhavec has also expressed to me his belief that you suffer from something called post-traumatic stress disorder because of the recent assault."
"It wasn't that big of a deal!" Robyn protested, feeling her the pit of her stomach turn with nausea at his words.
"Call it the straw that broke the camel's back," he responded evenly. "He believes this is best for you, and I am in full agreement. This will help you, Robyn. New York Foundling is willing to cover the expenses of a ninety day admittance due to the result of your evaluation, and hopefully within that time you can improve, which I happen to think you will."
Robyn swallowed repeatedly against the dryness that suddenly claimed her mouth. *Ninety days* . . . Three months! THREE MONTHS in a mental institution!
Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod . . . this is not happening! I'm not going to let them lock me up like some lunatic . . . her mind rambled on and on as she shook her head at the man she now looked at like he'd grown three extra heads.
The look of absolute horror she was giving him made Mr. LeBeck uneasy. He knew she wouldn't go without a fight, and her chance of trying to runaway between now and arriving at the institution had just tripled.
Karen had stayed quiet throughout the confrontation, than walked slowly toward the petrified Robyn. "Why don't you sit down, dear -”?
Robyn recoiled from Karen's touch and turned her bewildered green eyes towards the woman. "You people are crazy if you think I'm gonna go there," she told her in a wobbly voice. "You can't . . . you can't decide that for me, I get a say, don't I?"
Karen shook her head sympathetically. "You're a minor, honey, and your well being is something people like Mr. LeBeck have to look out for until you're of age. Don't be afraid, Robyn - it's only for the summer. Don't you want those nightmares to stop? The specialists there can help you with that -"
"Whatever happened to therapy? Just . . . just therapy?" Robyn asked, her eyes darting from Mr. LeBeck to Karen every few seconds. She felt cornered and utterly helpless, like the reigns of control over her life had been passed to someone else entirely. Someone other than her. "Seeing someone a couple times a week, same results, right?"
Mr. LeBeck and Karen exchanged a look, and Robyn burst out, "What?! Why are you looking at each other like that?"
"Please, lower your voice, Robyn," Karen shushed with a gesture, at a loss as how to placate the shaken girl. Mr. LeBeck made a gesture towards Karen. She understood, and proceeded to wrap an arm firmly around Robyn's shoulders. "Breathe, Robyn. Relax. It won't be so bad. Kids go all the time to get help, and they never regret it.” She rubbed Robyn's arm as they re-entered the large bedroom. Karen sat her down on her bed with, "Why don't you relax until the McCarthy's bring your clothes, and then we can all have dinner in the cafeteria, all right?"
Robyn nodded and watched listlessly as the woman left the room and shut the door behind her. She looked away, ignoring the other two in the room, and stared at each of the windows. She couldn't remember if they opened or not, cause she'd never tried it. She knew some of the windows in the foster home were painted shut, but these might not be. Suddenly she turned her attention to the other two. The brunette was watching her quietly. Would they rat on her if she tried to get away?
"You gonna run?" the girl asked curiously.
Robyn stared at her suspiciously. "Don't know. You gonna tell?"
The brunette shrugged. "Probably not. But they'll find out. They're not stupid. If they wanna take you to a psych ward, they're gonna make sure you get there."
Robyn ignored the last statement, and stood up. "How are the windows?"
"Noisy, but they open. You really think you're gonna get far?" she asked skeptically.
"I'm a fast runner."
The other girl shrugged indifferently. "Whatever. But you might wanna wait until no one can see you streaking across the front lawn. It's broad daylight out, you know."
Robyn sighed impatiently. She'd figured on that. But she wasn't sure she wanted to wait that long.
"Where will you go?" the blonde asked curiously from her position on her bed.
"Will everyone stop asking me that?" Robyn snapped in aggravation. "It's no one's business but mine." She turned around and sat down irritably on her bed, crossing her arms and going deep in thought. She might as well wait until her clothes get here, eat, and then go. It chagrined her to wait so long, though - she felt like time was against her.
Three months, she thought with a shake of her head. Incredible. She shuddered at the thought of spending her entire summer in a hospital unit talking to people about her problems. It was inconceivable. She wouldn't do it.
Robyn sat quietly, alone with her thoughts while the blonde dozed and the brunette pulled headphones on.
The sun was going down by the time the door opened and Karen came in with a medium sized bag. "The McCarthy's dropped off your clothes, Robyn," she informed her as she sat the sack down on the bed next to her. "Ready to eat, ladies?" She woke up the blonde, and all three trudged out towards the cafeteria and towards the smell of food.
A plate of chicken casserole was given to the girls, and Karen retreated to get them something to drink. Robyn ate halfheartedly, surprised that she didn't have much of an appetite. She ate, anyhow, figuring she would need the strength. Karen came back with a cheery smile on her face and holding three cups of something red.
"We've got some fruit punch for you girls tonight," she stated with a smile. She gave the other two girls theirs first, than set Robyn's down. She picked it up and drank the sweet smelling juice. It was a little thicker than the thin, watery drink she'd been expecting. It slid down her throat more slowly, and had a kind of sour tinge to the normal fruit taste. She made a face, but decided she could handle it.
As they continued eating and drinking silently, she couldn't help but notice Karen's presence in the room as she spoke with another social worker. They stayed a few yards away from the table, and every so often Karen would glance in their direction and look at her. What did she think she was going to do, bolt from the table for the door? Robyn thought wryly.
The glass only held a quarter of the juice in it by the time Robyn finished eating, and that was when it started hitting her. Her concentration became a little mangled, and it was sort of hard to focus on the last bites of her meal. She took in a breath and clutched the table. What . . . was wrong here? Headache? No, couldn't be a headache.
The brunette was looking at her funny, and then called out, "Karen, she's acting funny. What'd you do, put something in her food?"
Robyn's eyes widened as what she said hit her. Oh my God, the fruit punch! No way! Did they really just drug me?? Her mind started to feel distant from where she was sitting even as she thought it. It was as if she was far away from the cafeteria, and she soon she could barely hold on to the anger of finding out the fruit punch had been spiked - why didn't she figure it out?! Good Lord, how idiotic . . .
"I can't . . ." Robyn couldn't quite work her mouth to say what she wanted to say, to tell her how furious she was to be tricked like this. It was humiliating. How dare they!! "Can't believe you . . . did this!"
Karen's voice came, clear at first but started to sound far away like everything else. "It's all right, Robyn . . .come on, let's get you to your room, you can get some sleep."
The annoying girl's voice, gleeful. "Holy shit, you really duped her up, Kare!"
"Hush!" the woman scolded. " Robyn? Stand up, honey."
The girl fumbled to do what she said, but the moment she did her world tilted and she lost her footing. Karen lifted her up underneath her armpits and called for 'Rick.'
Who the hell was Rick? She heard the voice, than giggled. Oh, Mr. LeBeck's name is Rick. Richard LeBeck . . . what boring parents. At least he got the nickname 'Rick' instead of 'Dick.' She felt someone pull her up, but all she could seem to focus on was the floor, and the patterns in the tile. Little specks of colors. She felt weightless for a moment, and then frowned. She didn't wanna be carried.
A strong wall of water seemed to hit her senses, and she vaguely felt two someones leading her down the hall by her arms. Robyn felt completely out of control of what was happening, nor was she beginning to care anymore. All of their voices and motions were slow and far away, and she couldn't focus on anything. She couldn't remember what she had wanted to do or what was going to happen next, but at that moment, it was a comfort. She felt safe and sleepy.