Lost in July

II

"Oh, cool. Sorry for all the questions. I just thought you might wanna talk or something. Get your mind off the pain and all."

He waves his shaky hand dismissively. "Nah, man, you're good. What're you here for anyway?"

"Tried to off myself," I say bluntly.

Trevor's eyes widened as if he didn't expect my honesty. He recovers quickly, though. "Ah, shit. Sorry man. Depression? Shit sucks."

I nod. I like this guy. "It does indeed suck."

"Well, I always be in here or the TV room watchin' whatever they got on TV. I think I've seen every episode of Full House at this point."

"Not a terrible way to spend your time here," I joke. We continue talking and getting into our favorite movies and shit. Small talk keeps us entertained until noon, when breakfast is over. They kick us out of the cafeteria to clean, and Trevor and I head our separate ways.

I have an hour before group therapy, so I decide to unpack my suitcases in an attempt for this room to feel a little less cold. It doesn't work, though, because even with my clothes in the closet and my favorite books on the shelves, I still feel like I'm in a jail cell. The thick steel bars covering my window don't help either.

I pace around my room, attempting to stall before this stupid crap I'm being forced to do. Who thought of this anyway? Throwing a bunch of kids into a circle to talk about why they want to kick rocks. Brilliant.

I'm slowly strolling towards the C Room by the time one o'clock rolls around. I brought my new film camera, tucking it into the pocket of my hoodie in case inspiration struck me.

When I finally walk into the room, maybe ten kids are sitting in chairs placed in a circle, so we're all forced to look at each other. I huff with annoyance and sit in the chair closest to me.

There's an older-looking woman who I assume will be running the meeting. I look over all the people in our group, careful not to stare.

I'm one of the only guys other than the shaggy-haired blond zoning out on the carpet and an Asian guy with thick black glasses and a shirt that's way too tight.

Directly across from me is a younger girl, maybe fourteen or fifteen. She's small and frail-looking, her long blonde hair hanging down almost to the floor. Beside her, though, is what really catches my eye.

The girl from yesterday, the one I saw at the check-in with her parents, is picking anxiously at her nails, kicking her leg back and forth. She is hot as fuck, even with the disheveled hair and far too pale skin that showcases her dark circles. In fact, I think all those things make her even more attractive.

She must sense me staring because she looks up, her eyes finding mine almost immediately. They're green, maybe blue, but more than that, they're so sad. Possibly the most emotion I've ever seen through someone's eyes.

We both look away, and I start fidgeting in my seat, playing with a loose thread on my hoodie.

"All right, I think that's everyone," the older woman says. "Hi everyone. My name is Dr. Cambree, but you can call me Janelle."

Janelle explains the point of this whole thing, but I've already tuned her out. I stare out the window, watching the trees blow with the wind. This is one of the only rooms without bars covering the windows. It's probably because it's on the first floor, and no one is in here unsupervised.

Janelle keeps talking, but all I hear is incoherent mumbling. They can force me to go to this shit, but they can't force me to pay attention.

The kid next to me starts sharing his life story, gathering some of my attention. She better not be expecting me to share.