Lisa Rowe x fem

Home sweet home

I didn't pick a fight with her, but I think I wouldn't mind it.

     "I'll see you later."
She looks at me.

"oh yeah and fuck you Polly." She gets pulled out of the room.

      I finally breathe after knowing she most likely left a hand print on my neck.
     "Sorry about her, she's a lot." This girl with pretty eyes walks in.

     Polly rubs her eyes. "You're out of your room?" She rubs them again.

      "I'm Ellie Johnson." I put my hand out but she doesn't shake it. Instead she takes out her cigarette and puts it ever so carefully between my fingers.

     "My name is Daisy." She kindly smiles at me and walks back to her room.

     "I can't believe she came out of her room!" Polly yells.

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It's been about 4 more hours at this Hell hole, last I know I took pills and fell asleep.

     I wake up and get out my sketch book, I start drawing.
     That's when a girl comes in.

"Checks." She says.

I roll my eyes and walk out to the tv room. I sit down in a chair by the windows and put Daisy's cigarette in my mouth getting a girl to light it.

     Lisa walks in and talks with a nurse about her fiancé.
      "He wants you to fuck his brains out, use a rubber." She shrugs at the nurse.

     Then she sees me and both her eyebrows raise in amusement. Like she just spotted the most rarest animal or found a new species.
     She gets up and lazily walks towards me pulling out a chair and sitting very closely in front of me.
     "I heard you smoke French cigarettes." She tilts her head. She's social, and pretty confident after trying to fight me.

     "Indeed I do, why would you be interested?" I lean my face close to hers, to see if she can be intimidated or show any emotion whatsoever.

      She laughs a little "what's your name." She grabs my pack of cigarettes from my jean pockets and takes one with her mouth.
     Something about her makes me want to look at her mouth and never take my eyes off it.

     "Ellie Johnson." I take my pack back and put it in my pants pocket.
     "That's a nice name Johnson." She tilts her head backwards and a girl comes over to light her cigarette. Then she brings her attention back to me, intrigued.

     "How long have you been here?" I ask.

     "8 years, I escaped but they caught me quickly. Come back, best friends dead and I've got a roomie." She fake smiles.

     "Hm. Don't take it personal but I'm not sure if I want you to be my roommate either."
"Everyone wants to be my roomie." She smiles
I was going to say something but I get called "Ellie Johnson come with me." Valerie says.
      "Have fun in therapy." She goes back to our room for checks.

     "Yeah, not planning on it." I mumble to myself and watch her walk away as I get up.

I do admit, she's very attractive. Do I have the mental health to commit to one person? Of course I do, do I want to? Not sure, I'm used to drinking and partying. That's all it's ever been for me, why change my ways now?

"Now." Val snaps me out of my thoughts.

When I enter Wicks office there's an old lady smell, I step in and sit down as Valerie leaves.

Her rug is ugly and so is her hair, I don't want to be here and she obviously wants to pull secrets out of me. Yet the thing is, I have no fucking secrets.

"So Ellie, I heard that you have a history of hitting yourself, burning your thighs, pulling the hairs off your head, starting fights, punching walls when you are upset or angry."
"Yeah? What are my parents documenting every crisis I have?" I say.

"Well I'm also aware of your more intense self harm, would you like me to get into that?" She looks at me and puts her glasses on. When I don't say anything she starts speaking again.

"Is it the fact you feel as if you can't live up to anyone's expectations? Is that why you throw yourself into these temper tantrums? Or would you like me to bring up the fact you tried killing yourself about a month ago." She pushes up her glasses.

What a bitch? Who made her a therapist. How much do they pay her? She's terrible at this job. Even I could do better.

"Yeah I know why I'm here, people think it's outrageous I don't want a husband. I overreact over little things, and I tried to kill myself once over something dumb." I make myself comfortable in the chair. Something tells me I'll be in this room a while.

"Well how does that make you feel?" She starts writing stuff down.

"It makes me feel normal and honest unlike you perfect stupid people, what? I'm in here because I felt a little sad yet my rapist isn't even in jail right." I raise my voice. When she looks at me with sympathy I snap even more. Okay maybe I'm not comfortable. I'm mad. I'm angry. And no one would even fucking believe me would they?

"I'm in here because I decided to say the things that people think about every day out loud, everyone feels this way at least a thousand times in their sorry lives, so what if I have a few problems and I drink too much, famous people are alcoholics and psychos but they aren't thrown in here are they?"

"Young lady, keep your voice down." She shushes me.
"Listen, I know you guys like to be professional and sugarcoat things nicely but you can understand why I'm in here right. Did I say to much of the truth, oh and I can't burn my bra because I'd end up in here for that too." I get up.

"You're going to solitary for a day." She writes more stuff down on her paper.

"Yeah remind me not to do fucking therapy again, if you guys are gonna be this fucked then why should I even bother." A couple orderly's come in and she looks at me sympathetically. God, I can't stand that look.

"You are severely struggling, it must be another sign of your trauma."

"Bullshit, there's nothing wrong with me and you know it." They pull me away.