~Just a reminder that Ashley isn't Halsey just yet and she isn't a singer right now. I'm sorry if anything I mention in this story isn't exactly 'scientifically or medically accurate' just remember that this is supposed to be fiction!~
I look at myself in the mirror and question why I'm here. I mean if I'm just going to be spending my days going from one 'therapy session' to another what's the point? It's not like I'm going to change all of a sudden.
"Ashleyyyyy!!!!" My mother yells.
I sigh at look at what I'm wearing, a My Chemical Romance T-shirt, black skinny jeans and black converse. 'Oh don't wear too many bright colours at once Ashley, you might blind people.'
I run to my room and throw on a Folie à Deux sweater and trod downstairs.
My mother jumps a little as I stomp over to her, a little louder then I meant too. "Oh you scared me Ash, I didn't know you were there!"
"Yeah let's just get going." I mutter.
I don't mean to be rude to her, but it's just that I don't like talking to people very often. The last time I actually tried to keep up a friendship with someone, well... Let's not go there.
I shook the thoughts out of my head and went and climbed into the car.
My mother tries to make conversation with me, but I just shrug it off, I don't really feel like talking.
She sighs, "Ash I know this isn't going to be easy for you, but please at least see what it's like first. You never know maybe these therapy classes could help!"
There not gonna help shit actually. I don't see how standing up and expressing my feelings to complete strangers is going to help me in any way.
I just mutter a quiet 'mhmm.' And try to listen to some Melanie Martinez.
(AN: Ashely isn't a singer rn, so just go with it)
Our car pulls up to the hospital where the therapy sessions will be happening. I mentally groan as I unbuckle my seatbelt. Maybe if I bang my head against the window enough I might die or at least get a severe headache, anything so I don't have to attend this 'class.'
I eventually get out of the car and walk towards the front doors of the hospital.
"You okay to go in on your own? I just have to run some... errands." Mum asks.
Something about the way she says errands sounds like she isn't just getting groceries. I shake off the thought and nod.
I walk through the doors and find myself completely overwhelmed. The place is huge, it has at least 4 floors.
What if I can't find where I'm supposed to be?
I take deep breaths and head over to the front desk. I barely say anything before the lady asks if I'm here for the therapy sessions. I hesitantly nod my head.
"Just wait over there with those other kids. Someone will collect you soon enough." I quietly thank her and look over to where she directed me too.
I swallow my anxiety and walk over to the group and sit down. No one says anything which I'm grateful for.
My eyes wander around the place, taking in all the boring features of a hospital foyer. My eyes focus on a tall red haired boy who looks about my age. I don't realise I'm staring until he looks at me and gives me a little smirk.
I quickly look away knowing that I was blushing.
Who knows, maybe these 'sessions' didn't have to be so bad after all.
~Sorry for any mistakes~
YOU ARE READING
*Trigger warning maybe, read at own desecration* Ashley Nicolette Frangipane has been diagnosed with Depression and Social Anxiety. Her mother makes her attend therapy session to try and 'help' her. She think these sessions are a total waste of time...