I was fourteen, chopping some peppers in the kitchen when Mom approached me from behind. I turned to speak with her, but when I did, she saw the knife in my hands and quickly backed away. It was then that I realized that she was actually afraid of me. She truly thought I would do something to her. That I would hurt her. A realization that I wasn’t ready for.

Later that night, Mom called me down from my room. I entered the hallway and looked at Mom and Bob sitting on the couch at the bottom of the stairs. “What?” I asked.

“You left your tuna mess in the sink. You need to go clean it up,” Mom said.

“Are you kidding? That was this morning. Did you seriously just leave it there all day so you could make me do it right before bed?” I sneered.

“You do this every time you have Tuna. You leave it all in the sink for your Mom to clean until the whole house smells like fish. It will take you two minutes, just get in there and take care of it,” Bob snapped.

“Whatever, I just don’t see what the big deal is . If it only takes two minutes, why leave it there all day? It’s not like Mom has a job. She has the time. She’s just too lazy to care.”

Bob picked something up from beside him and sent it whizzing past my head, leaving a crater the size of a baseball in the wall behind me. “Show your Mom some respect,” he yelled.

“You know what? Fuck you guys! I would be happy if you both died in your sleep tonight!” I screamed, storming into my room and slamming the door behind me.

A few minutes later, after I had changed into my pajamas, I was called back downstairs. A police officer was waiting in the living room for me.

“You’re going with Officer Bradley to a detention center,” Mom stated.

“What? Are you serious? Why? Just because I argued with you?” I couldn’t believe it.

“No, because you threatened us, and I don’t feel safe with you in the house anymore.” Mom looked at the ground.

There it was. She actually said it. “No, I didn’t, I said I hoped you would die. Please, Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, I just want to go to school tomorrow,” I begged.

Mom and Bob shared a glance. “I think it’s best you spend some time away,” she said.

Officer Bradley asked me gently to put my hands behind my back before handcuffing me. He escorted me to his car and pushed my head down to get into the back seat. As I looked out of the window, I could see our neighbors, my cousins, watching from the sidewalk. I tried to shrink myself below the window where they couldn’t see me.

Why did I always do this? Why did I have to argue? Why couldn’t I just do what they wanted me to? What was wrong with me? I’d been trying so hard to stop, to just do what they said. I’d even started smoking because it was supposed to calm you down. Why couldn’t I just be…complacent? 

When we arrived, Officer Bradley escorted me through security and unlocked the handcuffs from my wrists, leaving a faint red ring on my skin. After taking my fingerprints, he led me through two metal detectors and a double wide door locked by a key pad.

Inside were the living quarters, there was a t.v. with some old brown couches in the center of the room, a ping pong table in the far right corner along with a reading nook filled with magazines and books, and what looked to be an arts and crafts area to my left. It didn’t look so bad.

They escorted me to a room with two beds. Someone was sleeping in the bed nearest the window, the window locked and bared.

“You’ll sleep here,” Officer Bradley stated, “the staff will be checking on you every hour or so.”

“Thanks,” I said quietly as he closed the door behind me. I climbed into the empty bed and pulled the covers over me, trying to keep from crying in front of my new roommate.

The next morning, a staff member came to escort us to breakfast. The girl in the other bed rose and left the room without a word.

I wished I could have a mirror and a brush before going out in front of people. I could feel that mascara and eyeliner had smeared down and around my eyes.

Sitting down for breakfast was awkward, to say the least. There were four teen boys and three girls. Each of us sitting in silence, sharing an awkward glance or two as we ate our muffins and vanilla yogurt.

After breakfast, a staff member sat us down in the living area. “My name is Stacy,” she said, “I’ll be assisting you in today’s activities. There are some ground rules I need to go over before we get started. First, if anyone needs to use the bathroom, you must be escorted  by a staff member. Second, the rooms will be locked during the day, so you will need to stay in the common area. Third, any fighting will result in you being escorted to a cell. Finally, some of the people here are rapist, attempted murderers, or arsonists. Do not try to make friends for your own safety and well-being.” I quietly  looked around, trying to gauge who the dangerous ones may be.

For our first activity we did some basic  exercises. We ran in place, did some squats, push-ups, and jumping jack’s before getting a five minute rest. None of us talking to or acknowledging each other in any way. Once we finished exercising, we were escorted to the reading corner, where we read what we wanted until lunchtime.

For lunch, there was an assembly line of sandwich toppings. No metal silverware was used, only a plastic spoon that the staff were in charge of. I made myself a ham and cheese sandwich with lettuce, tomatoes, and mayo before sitting with the others in silence.

After lunch was our arts and crafts period. We were given paper of different colors, plastic safety scissors, and crayons. “Stacy, are there any colored pencils by chance?” I asked.

“No, we are not permitted to have anything that can be used as a weapon,” she replied.

“Okay, thanks,” I mumbled. I thought for a moment on what I could do instead before settling on an idea.

I used the plastic scissors to cut out a head, arms, and legs from some peach paper. The plastic scissors did a poor job, but I did the best I could. Then I cut long brown hair and a blue dress from two other pieces of paper. I assembled the head first, gluing her hair on along with two pink circles for her cheeks. Then, I drew her eyes closed with a black crayon along with a small round nose. Next, I glued the head to the dress, folding the bottom of the dress several times to make it appear ruffled. I added some shading to the dress and hair. Finally, I glued on her arms and legs. Her back arm fell to her side while the arm on front was raised as if reaching for something.

I then glued her to a black piece of paper lying down to make it appear as though she were falling through darkness. Just above her raised hand, I colored in a white and yellow light, just out of reach. Given the materials I had to work with, I was rather proud of how it turned out.

Once we were done with arts and crafts, we got a free hour to ourselves where we could watch t.v, read, or continue drawing while we waited to speak with the counselor.

When it was my turn, I nervously sat across from a tall man with thick brown hair and thin square glasses. “Hi, I see you’re new here. My name is Mr. Scott. Can you tell me why you’re here?”

I looked down at the table, “I got in an argument with my parents and said things I shouldn’t have.”

“Is that all?” He asked. He looked perplexed.

I nodded.

“Listen,” he said, looking me straight in the eye, “you don’t belong here. This place is for teens who are working their way to prison. It can be dangerous. Promise me, right here and now, that you’ll never come back here.”

As much as I hated being there, it was the most peaceful day I had in a long time. I’d even considered asking if I could stay there. I didn’t want to go back home.

I had forgotten what this place really was. Some of these people were dangerous. Sleeping next to one of them, alone for an hour at a time, scared me. “Okay,” I said flatly, “I promise.”

A few nights later, I woke in the middle of the night to the sounds of yelling voices coming from the room next door. I peeked out of the window on our door. My roommate rolled over to watch me, as if she already knew what was happening and was used to it.

Outside, three or four paramedics rushed into the room to our left, wheeling out a boy with curly blonde hair. One paramedic tightly held several pieces of red stained cloth to his abdomen, while another attached an oxygen mask to his face. They were out the door before I could determine what had happened.

A moment after the paramedics left, two officers I hadn’t seen before led another boy out of the room, his hands handcuffed behind him. What in the world was going on?

Once everything had quieted down, I tried to go back to sleep. Something that seemed impossible, and yet my roommate was already snoring soundly. I will never come back here, I thought.

I stayed there for a week and a half before Mom came to get me, each of us driving home with a quiet tension building between us. I came back two more times, breaking my promise to Mr. Scott and to myself.