"Name please?"
"Harry."
"Your full name please."
"Harold Oscar Peterson-Evans. Sorry about that."
"You're fine. Belongings please? Phone included."
"Yikes. There go my snap streaks, right?"
"I guess. Any questions?"
"So what's it like working at the desk of this place? Must be awful interesting, right?"
"Uh-huh... you're awful snarky. Or chipper. I can't decide which one. Nonetheless.. Are you sure you're meant to be here right now Mr. Peterson-Evans?"
"Peterson. Evans comes from my step-dad. I prefer Peterson though. And yes I'm sure that I should be here right now. In fact, if I was anywhere else right now then I wouldn't be here period."
"Obviously you wouldn't be here if you weren't here..."
"Not what I meant. Just trust me."
"Ok I guess. Please go lay down in your room. He'll see you soon. Do you wish to send any last messages?"
"Already hugged mom and dad goodbye. I'm good. I'll go to my-" he cut himself off and paused. "Actually, can I see my phone for a second? I'll send her a quick message."
The lady sitting at the desk handed Harry the phone. He sent a message and a tear rolled down his tan face. He then handed the phone back to the lady and walked to his room. She glanced at the phone to see a message that read "I'm sorry for not telling you everything. I promise from now on I will".
YOU ARE READING
Healing
Teen FictionThe process of healing can be a long one. Harry Peterson experiences this grueling process for himself to try and rediscover essential aspects of his life: trust, love, and hope. Join him in this story to see if and how he does all of this with plen...
