Alexis

Odio, Disprezzo, Detesta la Terapia di Gruppot

"I'll pass," I mumbled.

"Alright, that's okay. We'll start in about five minutes. Take a seat inside," he smiled.

I nodded, set down the pen, and walked away. There was a large circle of seats. I didn't have that. I wanted the seats to be arranged so I could sit in the back, away from everyone. I couldn't. I sighed and walked to the closest one so I could leave quickly once this was away.

There were more people than I expected. We were all dressed similarly— dark colors. All griefing.

People started to fill seats until I heard the door close. I figured that meant we were starting. Good, that means I could start my mental clock. I wanted to leave this hell.

"Good evening everyone," a woman's voice called. I turned. I figured she was Christina, pardon the name tag, because of how she was dressed and how she spoke. She wore this cream-colored pantsuit which I felt was slightly patronizing. Everyone else was dressed in mourning of someone and here comes her— a ray of fucking sunshine. She even had light-colored hair with highlights. Her makeup was extremely light. Must feel nice to be naturally pretty.

She made her way around to sit in a seat that was across from me. I cursed in my mind. I regretted sitting where I was. She looked around the circle. I felt that she lingered on me.

"Alright, everyone, I'm proud to say that we have a new member joining us tonight—" fuck my life fuck my life fuck my life. What does she mean "member"? I don't want to be part of this cult. I don't want to be a "member"! "Can you introduce yourself to the group? Maybe tell us a bit about yourself, why you're here?"

I felt all of the eyes on me, I could feel the lasers burning my skin, enlarging my pores, creating scars. I could feel all of the eyes on me, scrutinizing every move, watching my chest hump and dump as I breathed, watching as my eyes tried to hide my emotions but were miserably failing. They could see how much I hated everything and how I was trying to act tough but couldn't not. They could see that I was a bitch, deep down inside.

"My name's Alexis," I said.

"What was that?" someone next to Christina asked. She was dressed in dark jeans and a dark navy flannel. She looked to be about forty. No reason for her to have hearing problems at her age.

"Alexis," Christina repeated. "Just a bit louder, sweetie. Tell us a bit about yourself, if you feel comfortable. How old are you? Why are you here?"

"I'm seventeen— no, I'm eighteen. . ." I mumbled, not yet used to saying that. "Sorry," I whispered and glanced away from Christina's stare. "I recently turned eighteen."

She smiled and nodded. "And would you like to share why you're here?" I shook my head and kept my lips together and my face neutral. "That's okay," she smiled. "Would anyone like to start us off? Make sure you say your name so Alexis knows who you are," she opened to the rest of the group.

Two people away from me on my left sat a man. He raised his hand. He was in a black button-down and black slacks. He had the facial structure of Johnny Cash. An older man. I glanced at his raised hand. There was a silver band around his finger. I wondered if he had any kids.

"Go ahead," Chistina allowed.

"It's been. . ." he paused and looked at me. I looked down at my lap because I felt that I was caught doing something that I wasn't supposed to do. I was just looking. "My name is Stephen," he added and I glanced at him. We shared eye contact for a moment before he looked away. "As you all know. . . . it's been rough. Today marks three months since Josie. . . ." he paused to take a deep breath. "It was hard to wake up this morning. As you all know. . . today would've been her fifteenth birthday—" he closed his eyes for a moment. The older woman next to him put her hand on his shoulder. He put his hand over hers. I could tell there was no romantic relationship; I had grown better at observing body language, at observing in general. "It's just— all I can think is if I—" he sighed as his voice cracked and for whatever reason, my chest started to hammer. I could feel the pulse of my heart in my ears. I could feel it against my wrists. I didn't like it. "If I didn't scold her for failing English, if I allowed her to get a cat, if I had her stay with Miranda that night—" he sighed out again and closed his eyes. He was silent for a while. My eyes were starting to sting. I kept blinking to try and make it go away. "Then she would be here—" he forced out through a sob.