Spanish Girl, Interrupted. by Heather Knight The Story you don't wan to tell writing prompt entry |
Maybe the darkest episode of my life took place when I was fifteen years old.
Back then, I was a bit of a swot and quite opinionated. When there was a debate in class, I always shared my ideas even if they were different from those of the majority. In post-Franco Spain it was very common to discuss thorny topics, such as religion and politics. One day, a guy in my class went past me and, just like that, said, 'You are disgusting.' You can imagine how I felt. I was still young and vulnerable after all. I haven't forgotten the guy's name (Jose Antonio) and what he looked like. He was red-haired and his face was covered in freckles. He was shorter than me and quite stocky. I remember he was very good at drawing and often spent lessons making caricatures of the teachers. Back then, nobody paid much attention to bullying, so when I got home and recounted the incident to my parents, my dad just told me not to be silly. 'Pull yourself together.' My dad was a wonderful man, it was just different times. I had expected it would be a one-off, but the abuse continued. Every time he saw me, he repeated the same sentence. 'You're disgusting.' And then one day, I snapped. I don't remember much, just what my parents have told me. I got home, apparently speaking gibberish. Nothing I said made sense. My mum was so scared, she phoned my aunt and together they called the doctor. I was taken to hospital and once there, I was admitted to the psychiatric ward. Everybody, even the doctors, assumed I was on drugs. My stay at the hospital was long, around a month. I only remember smells and sounds, but not much more. There was a lady who shouted all day long. 'Ailloooon!' she said. Aillon was one of the doctors. And the doctor's answer 'I'm going to send you to Cienpozuelos.' Cienpozuelos is a psychiatric facility on the outskirts of Madrid that looks a bit like a prison. It was like Girl, Interrupted, but in Spain. Maybe the most outstanding part of my stay was the fact that I was given a course of ECT (electroshocks)... but I've also forgotten that. I only remember being wheeled into the room. Just vaguely. The day I was released from hospital, Grandpa came to pick me up with my parents. He was incredibly happy to see me again and I was happy to see him. I remember a nurse said goodbye to me and then added, 'Don't take drugs again, sweetie.' I was gobsmacked. I had spent all that time there and they knew nothing about me. My teachers were lovely when I went back to school and I guess they had talked to the bully, because he never insulted me again. I often think this is an episode that changed my life. That changed me. I'd probably be a different person if it had never happened. However, it's part of who I am, so I'm not complaining. Just remembering.
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Heather Knight
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