Senior Year

Chapter Four

LAST WARNING
POV: Haven

The next morning I got called to the office and when I got there my Aunt Phoebe was talking with the Vice Principal. Mr. Davis told my Aunt about everything that was going on at school. My grades, the fights, and the absences.

She acted amazed at first, but I could tell by the glossiness of her eyes that she was drunk. She might even forget by the time she gets home. "Haven, this is your last warning before I have to suspend you. No more fights." Mr. Davis says clicking his pen. "I'm also referring you to a therapist we have here at the school. You'll see her twice every week. No, if and or buts."

I wanted to scratch my own eyes out. I don't want to talk about my feelings with some stupid therapist that is trying to diagnose me. She'll put me on some pills and then I'll end up addicted to them as Aunt Phoebe did. And I'm not taking any chances.

"Thank you for getting my niece's help, Mr. Davis," My Aunt chimes in. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I don't need help I need a nap.

"Anything to say for yourself, Haven?" Mr. Davis asks. I shake my head. There's nothing to say. "Very well, your sessions with Mr. Bernard are every Monday and Thursday."

I pick my nail polish off like it's the most interesting thing ever. I rather not be a part of this conversation. Their voices fade into the background till they sound static. My eyes feel heavy due to the lack of sleep I've been getting. I've become a caffeine addict and now I can't stay awake without it.

Before we left Mr. Davis told me to stay out of trouble, but of course, it went through one ear and out the other. I feel like a different person and all I can find is trouble.

When we make it outside of the office, Aunt Phoebe grabs my wrist. "You need to pull yourself together, young lady." Her eyes stare daggers at me and all I can think is how hypocritical she sounds.

"Take a look in the mirror," I slyly say. Her face twitches as her grip on my wrist tightens.

"Lucia and Mathew would be disappointed in you," her frown grows and my blood runs cold. The names of my parents rolled off her tongue so fast I could've missed it. But I didn't and all I feel is sick.

They would be disappointed in me. My forehead sheens with sweat as my head spins. I'm such a waste of space. I should have died instead of them. I'm such a disappointment my parents are probably rolling in their graves.

"I think I'm going to be sick," I say as I rip my wrist out of her grasp and run towards the nearest bathroom. I push past the line in the bathroom and maneuver myself around a girl leaving the stall. I don't even have time to lock it before the contents in my stomach begin spewing out of me.

"Oh god, Have, are you okay?" A familiar voice asks from behind me. Warm hands pull my long hair out of my face.

When I finish my throw-up fest I flush the toilet and slump onto the floor. I use my sleeve to wipe my mouth. "I'm okay. Thanks, Addison," I say looking up at one of my ballet friends. She was gone over the summer when my parents died, but she kept in touch sometimes.

"Of course, why haven't you called or texted me? I heard you were in a fight!" She says handing me a tissue.

"I turned my phone off," that was a lie. I just couldn't handle how she pitied me. "And it was nothing. Don't worry about it."