Drowning In Secrets Read online

  Drowning In Secrets

  F.S. Hendricks

  .

  Drowning In Secrets

  Copyright © 2022 by Frankee Hendricks.

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations em- bodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organiza- tions, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For information contact :

  [email protected]

  ISBN :

  First Edition: January 2022

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Dedicated to my grandparents, Frama and Pa, who have given me way more than I deserve. I love you !

  CONTENTS

  Drowning In Secrets

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 1

  Two blue pills, one white, and one pink. I reached into the box that was sent to my house every morning through a chute that goes to each bedroom. I popped the four pills in my mouth and swallowed them effortlessly, used to the process by now.

  I placed the box back into the chute and pressed a button to send it back to the local pharmacy. I turned away from my vanity and headed over to the bathroom. I input the shower settings on a tablet and entered my emotions from the morning on the screen.

  Every day I had to submit a check-up to the government and every day I lied. It was not as if they could reach through my screen and check or see the depth of every emotion I was feeling.

  I clicked the faces next to “happy” and “relaxed.” If I didn't click relaxed, they would come to do an examination and I could not have that. I just needed to make it through one day at a time.

  I undressed and then stepped into the shower, feeling the stream of water pounding on my back, massaging my tense muscles.

  It is hard to get through every day when it leads to a future you don't want. I was assigned to take on the role of dentist; I guess it makes sense because of my grades, ambition, and hard work. A dentist is a well-respected job, but in our society, it is not as honorable a title as a government worker.

  I am grateful to have been chosen to receive the job assignment. However, my crippling anxiety triggered by all things to do with medical issues or blood makes it difficult for me to feel comfortable that my future job will involve reaching into someone’s mouth and dealing with bodily fluids every single day. My hands shook just thinking about it, and I internally slapped myself for showing any signs of weakness.

  I learned from a young age to hide most of my anxiety. The little bit I could not hide when I was younger is why I am prescribed medication. Anxiety is why everyone in this society is prescribed medication, whether they have anxiety or not. The government wants everyone to be calm and at peace. So, when someone asks you, how you are, you don't say, “good” or “fine.” You say, “relaxed, thank you.” And when you part ways you say, “I wish you a peaceful day.”

  I don't blame the government for wanting to get rid of anxiety entirely. It is a terrible feeling that I could easily live without. I don't wish a panic attack upon anyone. In my world, if you experience a panic attack, you are tranquilized and forced to isolate until you calm down. Then they give you a new treatment plan such as upping your medication.

  Even the slightest sign of stress, such as a student worrying about how much work they must get done, is a need for an intervention. Temporary pills may be prescribed, that basically make you feel numb, until the worry subsides. I had taken them many times when I was younger.

  I realized at an early age that my anxiety was worse than most, and it seemed to get even worse as I got older. I was put on a higher dose of medication than anyone in my family; yet I still felt petrified at times for simply no reason. Anxiety is a tricky concept to understand, but it is sort of like running a marathon, drowning, and choking all at the same time. Like I said, I would never wish it upon anyone.

  The medicine does dull my symptoms, but every now and then I feel a rush of anxiety through my veins. My heart starts pounding like crazy. I feel like I can't breathe. I get dizzy on the verge of passing out, and all other thoughts are drowned out except escaping the danger.

  There are people in my society whose anxiety gets so bad they are sent to a facility for full time care. People with bad depression and other mental illnesses are sent there as well. The kicker is you may as well say bye to your family because you will never see them again. You are put in a mental prison for the rest of your life; they will no longer worry about prescribing you medication to help you fit into everyday society. You are pushed to your breaking point, and they let you break by suffering in isolation.

  Even though the water was steaming off my body from my shower, I got a cold shiver just thinking about it. I turned off the water, dried off, and then rushed with my bare feet to my connecting bedroom. I located the tablet next to my closet door and picked out my clothes for the day.

  My school is pretty good about letting us express ourselves through clothing. So, I decided to go with a pretty pink sundress and brown sandals to match. I snatched up my purse containing my emergency anxiety medication and headed downstairs to breakfast.

  It seemed that breakfast was delivered just a few minutes ago as my box of food was set neatly on my spot at the table. My brother, Dew, was chowing down on his multi-grain cereal and apple, while simultaneously watching his favorite cartoon on his tablet. I sat down next to him and noticed my parents were not yet at the table.

  “Where are Mom and Dad?” I asked Dew.

  I unboxed my food and the steam from my oatmeal hit my face with a whoosh. All our food was monitored and tracked, so that we received the correct portions to meet our physical needs.

  “I don't know,” he said, and I rolled my eyes.

  Dew, short for Dewy, was only seven, and if he wasn't so gosh darn cute, I would get very annoyed with him. Each household is allowed to have as many children as they want, and my mom and dad decided two would make them happy. Dewy looked almost identical to my dad, while I am a mix of both my dad and my mom.

  Once we turn seventeen, we are granted permission to drive our own vehicles. Everyone drives five below the speed limit and obeys all laws and regulations. We leave with plenty of time to spare so that we are not in any way, shape, or form stressed or worried about arriving somewhere late. If we are not able to make it there within a certain time-period, we just face the consequences. There is no fretting about it.

  “Do you need a ride to school, then?” I asked.

  “No, Mom is in the shower,” he said.

  “I thought you just said you didn't know where she was?”

  He just shrugged, and I let out a huff.

  I finished eating quickly and said goodbye to Dew and my dog, Sunshine. I hopped in my car and heard the calming roar of the engine. It didn’t do anything to calm my nerves, though. I was not sure what it was about school, but the feeling of being trapped there never escaped me. I flipped down my mirror and took a deep breath, schooling my face into indifference.

  I made it to school and parked in my designated spot. Almost all the spots were full, and eve
ryone looked calm and happy. As I walked into school, I focused my gaze on the big oak tree next to the entrance gates. Under the shade of the tree was a boy, Ian, who I did not know well but had seen several times before. He was smoking something I had never seen before. It certainly looked illegal. He was trouble.

  I kept my head down and tried to pass by him invisibly, but my traitorous eyes looked up and met his. He was beautiful. The previous times that I had seen him, he always took my breath away. Today was no different. His cheekbones and jawline were sculpted, and under his school uniform was an obviously strong and well-built body. His black hair was messy but looked good on him. He was tall and towered over me.

  His plump lips smirked at me, and my cheeks heated, knowing I got caught staring. I quickened my pace to get to my first period class. I looked odd in this crowd of kids. Almost like a cheetah among lazy but prowling lions. My eyes darted left and right, taking everything in, and I slipped into my seat.

  “Hello, class,” my teacher greeted us as the calming music sounded overhead from the speakers, letting us know class was starting. “How is everyone feeling this morning?”

  “Relaxed and refreshed,” the class responded in unison.

  It was our signature response, and at this point in our lives, it was as easy as breathing. It was always a lie, though; at least for me.

  “That is great,” she replied. “If anyone is feeling stressed in any way, please come see me. I know we have a test coming up and that might be triggering for some.”

  I would never tell her if I was feeling anything other than relaxed. Sad and angry were somewhat acceptable, but anything along the lines of anxious would call for immediate treatment. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I resisted the urge to bounce my foot up and down, even though I felt desperate to release some energy.

  “We are going to be watching a documentary today. I want to see very carefully taken notes and that you all are paying attention.” She smiled kindly at us.

  If you struggled in school, there was no way around it. You did what was assigned, you got graded, and those grades placed you into your future career. You could be a few days from graduating and receive a bad grade that could shift what you thought would be your set future.

  She pulled up a movie clip on the Great War. My heart immediately sunk, and I felt the blood rush from my face. I don't do well watching documentaries, especially ones depicting blood and violence. I felt my breath quicken and my heart race. As the lights dimmed, I took extra time gathering my pencil and paper, and meticulously placed both on my desk.

  I tried to block out the voices of the video, which depicted the graphic event. Of course, there is no censorship because anyone who experienced any kind of discomfort was not taking enough medication. I counted the tiles on the ceiling, the specks of eraser on my desk, the gray diamonds on the carpet, and looked at anything but the projected images.

  The class passed meticulously slow, and it felt like torture. I went through the schedule for the rest of the day to make sure I was not facing anything else to trigger me. The coast was clear, thank God. So, I just had to make it through fifteen more minutes of this class, and I was home free. The thought gave me some relief.

  Honestly, I was not even sure why I was experiencing anxiety. I watched videos like this at home or with my family, but for some reason, watching it in school spiked the anxiety within me. I realized, over the years, that it might stem from embarrassment or the fear of having a panic attack. I was not bothered by seeing a guy getting shot by a bow and arrow. But what happened if just this once I was bothered? If just this once, I had a terrible reaction for everyone to see? If just this once, the anxiety was too much to handle, and I went insane, and got taken away? Away from my family. Away from Dew. What would Dewy and my parents do if they could never see me again? Would they forget about me entirely?

  A yell in the hallway distracted me from my downward spiral. I was not sure anyone else heard it because they were all so enraptured by the movie. I squirmed out of my seat and quietly made my way to my teacher’s desk. I asked her to use the restroom, and she made me log the time on the classroom tablet.

  Once I was in the hallway, I saw what was happening. Ian was shouting at three teachers, two of which seemed to have their arms up in a pose to show they meant no harm. The other teacher was trying to get a point across to Ian. Ian’s hair looked disheveled as if he had been pulling on it. His chest rose and fell rapidly. I knew the signs, and I felt sympathy bubble in my chest.

  It was too quiet for me to hear what the teachers were saying, but it was clear to hear Ian.

  “I am not going back in there!” He seemed to be shaking. “I don't care! I will stay out here until the class is over.”

  I hid behind a corner of the wall, obscured from their view. I was not sure how much longer I could watch this without having panic attack myself. But the fact that this tough looking guy was in the throes of a panic attack was too curious for me to look away. The teacher seemed to say something else to him and he lost it.

  “No, I am not going to try to relax! I am SCARED!”

  At this word, they all took a step back as if someone had struck them.

  “I haven't heard from her! I don't want another person in my family to disappear-”

  Before he had time to finish the sentence, a teacher lunged forward and injected something into his neck. I audibly gasped, and quickly tried to cover my mouth so they didn’t hear.

  Ian fought for a minute and then sagged forward. The other two teachers grabbed him by the arms. Ian mumbled incoherently as they dragged him towards the nurse’s office. He must not be on enough medication for a freak-out like that to occur, and to use that word! I don't think I have ever heard it spoken aloud; I have only read it in books.

  I went to the bathroom sink and splashed cold water on my face. I was still confused by what I had seen and felt sick. Not many kids act up in school, and when they do, it is typically not anxiety driven. It was more from anger or sadness. I took a deep breath and looked up at the clock. I better get back to class. My mind still spun with thoughts of Ian, and what would make him so anxious as I sank back into my seat.

  I barely even noticed the remainder of the documentary. All I could think about was that someone else was actively experiencing anxiety. He felt the same as I did and understood what it was like. The thought that I was not the only one suffering lifted a small weight off my shoulders that I didn't realize was there.

  Chapter 2

  “Hi, Rainy,” Elizabeth and Kaitlyn greeted me.

  We were in the lunch line, and I was typing my passcode into one of the tablets. I also had to check in again and describe how I was feeling. My lunch was delivered to me through a device that looked like a microwave. Microwaves were no longer used because they were proven to cause increased anxiety.

  Everyone had pre-programmed lunch food based on their personal needs. So, everyone’s lunches looked different. I got chicken pasta, while Kaitlyn had a vegetarian pizza, and Elizabeth had a turkey sandwich.

  “Hey, guys,” I replied.

  I looked down at my portion of food, which was a little small. However, my portions were smaller when I didn't log any exercise the day before.

  “How are your classes going today?” I asked.

  “Great. In science we learned about...” Elizabeth leaned in closer to me, and whispered, “anxiety.” She whispered it like it was a curse word. “It was so cool!” she continued. “It is all about how dangerous it was for humans to experience, and how important it was to be medicated properly. I don’t understand, though. The way the older generations described it in the video, I don’t think I have ever felt it. Thank God! I can’t imagine having to sit through that agony every day.”

  I gave her a tight-lipped smile. She was lucky, indeed.

  Kaitlyn piped in, “Ms. Thomas showed us a video and some pictures about what takes place at The Facility.” She shivered as she said the word. “It is a ma
dhouse, and absolutely terrifying. They are not in control of their bodies. They shake and scream, and some people get so bad they want to….” She made a motion, dragging her index finger at the base of her neck. “Anyone who goes there is a lost cause.”

  “That is crazy,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

  My breathing quickened, but I didn’t make it noticeable. The only fear they allowed us to experience was fear of The Facility. It made it easier for them to distribute treatment. They allowed a little fear. However, at the rate my heart was pumping, I think I had way surpassed the acceptable amount of fear. Then the thought intruded in my mind, That is where I belong and where I would be if I was not so good at hiding my anxiety.

  “Did you hear about Ian?” Elizabeth asked.

  “No, I saw him in the hallway with a few teachers when I was going to the bathroom, and he was acting a little strange.” I did not want to expose what I really saw.

  “Well,” she went on, “he was in my science class. When the teacher was describing The Facility, he shot up out of his chair and started pacing the room. He started going on and on about nonsense. I mean, I get The Facility is weird, but he was acting nuts. He was mumbling about his sister, but if his sister was anything like him, I would say good riddance. I am sure he is going to be taken away soon, or they seriously need to up his medication. It was so strange; I have never seen such a thing.”

  Send him away? My stomach dropped at the thought. I said a quick prayer that he was able to manage his anxiety on his own and hide it well. I would never wish The Facility upon anyone.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “That is strange.”

  I diverted my attention to my food and pretended as though I was too invested in biting and chewing to say anything else. Hopefully the quiver in my voice wouldn’t give me away.