My Life, in Ruins

My Life, in Ruins -Chapter twelve-

  True to his word, my doctor had the physic consultant spend the next three days coming in and talking to me. I knew that she was the ticket of me getting out of here or going into full blown therapy, but I couldn’t seem to put my heart into talking with her. They didn’t allow me visitors, but Dr. Jenkins did say that Ian had tried to come and see me quite a few times. On the fourth day, when I was being released, I was allowed visitors, but by then I didn’t want any. I made security turn them away and after all my paperwork was filled out the lady gave me my schedule for therapy.

“Maybe coming to talk to me a few times a week will make you open up more.” She told me.
I held back an eye roll. I would never want to talk to a stranger about my personal life. When I got home mom was gone, but I didn’t expect her to be here for me anyways. I ripped the hospital ticket off my arm and threw the bill in my mom’s pile of home bills. I refused to pay it and since I was a minor, she had to anyways. When I got up to my room the first thing I did was raid my medicine cabinet. I took a trash bag out from under the sink and threw all of my pills, even the Advil, into it and then went through my drawers.
I found the left over jolly ranchers from that night that I hooked up with Clay, I threw them in there. And then I went and found all of my blades and sharp objects I’ve used to cut with and threw them in the trash bag as well. When that was done I searched under my bed for all alcohol stash and added them to the top. Finally free of all paraphernalia that bound me to the whirlwind of bad that was my life, I took the bag outside and threw it on the curb with the rest of the garbage; that’ll show them all that I’m not suicidal!

The next school day was…colorful. I wore sunglasses to hide the bags under my eyes from the days at the hospital and I avoided everyone including Ian. I just didn’t feel like talking about what happened because if I did then I would have to tell him about the pregnancy and then he would leave me because nobody would stay with someone that was pregnant with someone else’s child. Yes, I could have been jumping to conclusions, I hadn’t used a condom with either of them, but the truth was I was a pessimist and even if this was Ian’s baby that wouldn’t change anything. I didn’t want it and I would do anything to prove to the damn shrink that I was alright if that meant I could get an abortion.
The girls asked me questions at practice so I just told them the basic, I was drugged and ended up getting hurt, I didn’t know what happened. They believe me and because it was such a “horrible thing” they didn’t question me any further. Ian wasn’t taking well to my rejection. He had called and texted about fifty times and I got a flash back to before we had gotten together, how persistent he had been. But now wasn’t like then, I had a goal, a mission, and I wasn’t going to stop until everything was back to the way it was suppose to be.

My meetings with Emma, my shrink, went the same every time. She asked me why I cut and I would tell her about my mom and dad, my sister, how that made me feel. I even told her about Ian a few times, Clay, Carter, Buddy -my puppy- and about the cheerleaders, Ray and Priscilla. And then she would ask me why I wasn’t talking to Ian; I could have lied and told her that I was, but I really wanted to get out of here, so I told her the truth and after a week of every day therapy after school, Emma had a meeting with my mom. Mom and I hadn’t spoken since that night I was drugged, so I didn’t know I felt about her meeting with my shrink, but when she came out of the room they had come to some sort of agreement and from the look on Emma’s face, I wasn’t going to like it.

I was involuntarily signed into their full time program; what that meant was, for the next month I had to live in the physic ward and get therapy twice, or three times a day. They wouldn’t let me do any working out because of the pregnancy, but they would let me on the treadmill for a half hour every day, I tried to take advantage of that time. Another thing they insisted on was prenatal vitamins and at least two healthy meals a day; staying there, my weight increased back up to 102 which was something I was not thrilled about. When I mentioned in in therapy Emma wanted to talk about it.