The Potato Nation

30: Crazy

As always, my apologies for the incredibly long hiatus - i understand if you decide not to read this anymore haha - but i had my exams going on and this book is really, really hard to write. And since it's 5 P.O.Vs all in one chapter, it's like writing five chapters all at once. 

I'm writing this after quite a long time so this will be really rusty - i hope you still like it tho and support me throughout. Thank you for getting me to 1.4k votes; it seemed like a faraway dream some time ago tbh. So thank you, thank you if you're reading this and thank you for your lovely votes and comments. I'm so sorry for making you guys wait so long but let's hope i can make it up and update the last three to four chapters soon enough but no promises because i've broken too many of those. 

Also, thank you for never pressuring me in to updating; you have no idea how much that means to me. 

Dedicated to @alysak for her continuous support. Thank you, love <3

U N E D I T E D 

30: Crazy 

Farrah has been waiting outside the counsellor's office for quite a while now. Playing with the hem of her shirt, she stares blankly at the not-so-exciting mosaic floor beneath her. The sounds around her fade as her eyes fix themselves in a single place, with no signs of flitting away. She can't feel anything, can't hear anything instead of a small buzz in the back of her mind – a warning.

But she doesn't acknowledge the warning either.

A tiredness puts massive irons of lethargy on her small frame. With her heart heavy as lead and her brain, so empty yet so full, it's safe to say that she's pretty messed up and the funny part is, she doesn't really know if she is drowning or flying or floating in the in-between of everything. It sure feels like she is floating, without the firm, reassuring grip of gravity underneath her; hanging in the midst of the busy routines of the people. And maybe, that's the worst type of feeling...it's like participating in a race and being the last one still running, still closer to the start than the end and wondering if you should give up and go back to the start or keep running till the finish line. She likes to describe it as a split, sinking heart with too many substantial decisions to make.

She sighs and pushes a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, finally reverting her gaze and fixing it on the counsellor's door. Someone is probably in there, discussing their problems with the kindly woman. Someone who is not insane, someone who has real problems. Someone who has something to cry about.

She bites her lips, pushing her teeth too far in to the highly sensitive skin, hoping to hurt herself to decrease the impact of the sudden pang of agony jolting through her like volts of electricity. It always helps – biting her lip hard or perhaps, closing her hands in to a tight, tight fist.

Praying helps too, a voice in the back of her mind prods her.

But she has never really bothered to pray, has she? Because on most days, Farrah Adam does not want to get better. On most days, she wants to get worse. She is so screwed up it isn't even funny anymore.

The door suddenly opens and out comes Rick, a junior, with red, puffy eyes and a tear-stained face. She watches him walk past her but not before shooting her a glance, looking at her from the side of his rimless glasses. She offers him an encouraging smile but she is far too late and he's already turning the knob and walking out of the waiting area. Shrugging to herself, she forces down the fear now strangling her, with every step that Rick takes out of the office.

What is she supposed to say to Mrs. Wayland? That she lied about a dead sister? That she's just an attention-seeking bitch? What will she say?

Rory tucks her head out of the door and smiles at Farrah, "Ooh, what a pleasant surprise! Why don't you come in and we'll talk? I'll make you a hot cup of coffee – I really hope you like coffee though."