Not So Normal

Chapter 51

~Elissa's POV~

   After I hang up the phone in Melissa's office I curl up on her couch and start crying. I miss Niall a lot more than I thought I did. And I already miss his voice. I'm just glad he didn't seem mad about me not telling him how depressed I actually was. I know he'll be on edge for a while, and things might be a little awkward when we see each other again, but I'm not too worried.

   I can tell that Melissa is at a loss of words. She's probably never had to deal with a case quite like mine. She gives me a few minutes to cry, but I'm pretty sure it's because she's trying to figure out what to do and not because she feels bad for me. After my tears die down a little bit she finally speaks up.

   "You really miss him, don't you?" she asks softly. I nod as I wipe tears from my cheeks.

   "He's my anchor. Without him I would have been dead a long time ago," I confess. Melissa nods in understanding and writes types something on her laptop. I wonder what exactly she writes down when I say stuff. She's always typing, and I always want to know what she's saying because I honestly don't think anything I've said so far is that interesting.

   I was either crying longer than I thought or we talked longer than it seemed, but either way the session ended quickly. Julie gets me and leads me down some halls while telling me about my next torture (she, of course, doesn't call it that). I have to spend time with another group, which is supposed to be mostly different people from my therapy group. But this time it's not an organized thing. I get to spend an hour with them in the giant game/TV room. Great.

   When Julie drops me off in the game room I find a couch in an isolated corner on a wall of windows and sit down. I really don't feel like interacting with people. After I've been in here for a couple minutes I hear a voice I've already learned to hate.

   "New girl!" Brandon yells. I ignore his calls and keep staring out the windows. When I don't get up and go to him, he comes to me. He sits down next to me on the couch and tries to start a conversation with me.

   "Go away," I say, trying to sound as annoyed as I possibly can. Brandon looks offended for a split second, but then he goes back to his annoying self.

   "I'm not going away unless you talk to me. I always talk to new people when I happen to be in their group, and you're no exception. Don't think you'll get treated any differently here just because you're famous on the outside," he says.

   "On the outside?"

   "Yeah, on the outside. That's what us patients call the outside world. It's so foreign to us since most of us have been here a while, so we call it the outside," he explains. When I don't respond to his explanation he starts to explain further, but I cut him off.

   "I never asked to be here. I don't want to be here and talk to all you crazies. I need to be on 'the outside' doing what I love doing, not moping around in a rehab center all day," I say sharply. This time the offended look stays on Brandon's face.

   "Crazies? Well if you haven't noticed, you are stuck here for a while, so you're a crazy too. Just because most of us checked ourselves in here doesn't mean we're crazy. You've obviously got some huge problems if someone had to bring you here while you were unconscious after getting your drunk-ass stomach pumped!" he almost yells.

   "How did you know that?" I ask angrily, my hands starting to shake. I purposely left that part of my story out in group therapy.

   "I asked Julie. She was my escort when I was new, so I know her pretty well. She was hesitant telling me, but I told her it would help me connect with you more easily since I'm in here partly because of alcoholism," he says, shrugging it off like it's no big deal.