Baby Blue

I grabbed the clock from the wall and hurled it across the room. It hit the other plain white wall, right next to the door, and clattered to the floor. Of course, it was plastic. I walked over to the poor clock and inspected it. The spot where it hit the wall was normal beside a white dent in it. I left the clock on the floor and turned my back to the door. Whenever I did this, I could feel prickles on my back, as if someone was watching me, and I would try to stand like that for as long as possible without looking at the door.

I clenched my fist and ignored the prickling and the beads of sweat gathering on the back of my neck. I was making myself nervous. I spun around, screaming.

“Leave me alone! Get me out!” My voice echoed around me and I could hear people rushing around in the hallway, the key sliding into the lock, the door opening and I jumped toward the man. He held me back and in a gruff voice called out for assistance.


I am sitting, straight jacket on, in the counselor's office. Most rooms are white, but this one is blue, baby blue, my new favorite color. Everything is so black and white to me now, that the slight change in color relaxes me.

“Noella, can you please try to make me understand why you are reacting this way?” The counselor, Cammie, does not deserve the baby blue room. She had white hair, but she is not old, and her skin is pale and her eyes are black. I can not tell if she wears makeup or not.
“I am sick of that room.” My voice surprises me a little, for as messed up and distorted as I am, my voice sounds so normal.
“I need more reason than that, Noella.” She sounds annoyed and taps her pen impatiently on her desk.
“It only has a bed and the clock, what am I suppose to do?” I feel anger rising in me, but I push it down, not wanting to be sent back to the white room.

“That is all you need.” Cammie sets her pen down carefully, like she truly cares about it.
“I want to paint.” I say, gazing at the perfect blue walls and then back at her surprised face.
“Paint?” She seems surprised. “Well, you can paint if you want.”


I hold the wooden paint brush in my fingers and stand at the cheap easel they brought into my room. I have the basic colors, black, white, red, green, yellow, orange, purple, and blue. I have a paper plate and a glass of water, but those have no purpose to me. I look at the white canvas and I look at the white walls and sadness fills me. All I have ever known was already painted across my canvas, but I remember that baby blue room and I paint blue all over the canvas, only to realize, it is not as pretty as the baby blue room. I pour some blue on the paper plate and I try to think back of the “normal days” when I was painting in pre-school.
“Mixing colors can make beautiful new colors!” The teacher was over excited and her fake smile had been so see-through, but I was thankful I remembered.
I poured white into the blue, but the colors did not mix, they sat next to each other. I mixed with my paint brush and saw the improvement and my excitement rose. I sat the brush aside and used my fingers, and soon my hands were baby blue colored. I was about to continue painting on my canvas when I remembered the plain blue paint on it. It was ruined. Then my eyes traveled to that white wall, a big canvas screaming for color, like I had done earlier.
I only got a small area of the wall done, smeary and unprofessional by far, but beautiful all the same.


“Noella, they have told me that you have painted on the walls of your room.” Cammie seemed disappointed, but I could not understand why. I was not in the straight jacket, just my baby blue splatter jumpsuit.

“So?” I shrugged, thinking how my spot of baby blue looked better than the walls in here did.

“Noella, I have to take away your paints now and they are going to have to paint over that.” Her voice came out low and mean. I felt panicked now, that blue spot was mine.

“No!” I yelled, my hands clutching my seat, holding me down.

“Noella...” the counselor held her hands up and stood up slowly, as if I were a bomb that could go off any second.

“Don’ t paint over it, I...” my voice trailed off and my eye got water in them, something that had never happened to them before. I dabbed at them with my fingers and I drew in a shaky breath.

“Noella, I’ll talk to them.” Cammie looked at me kindly and a warm feeling swept over me, putting me in a trance all the way back to my room.





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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

Skaia said...
Jul. 6, 2011 at 10:03 pm

First off: Thanks for reading my work!

Second: This is great! Noella's narration is so innocent and vaguely childish, which makes it perfect for someone in her situation. I did spot a single error: "The sopt where it hit the wall besides a small white dent in it." That's all, and great work!

 
Odessa_Sterling00 replied...
Jul. 6, 2011 at 10:10 pm
Thanks, and no problem.
 
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