I sat there, anxiously. Waiting for them to call my name. I really didn't want to be there, but I just wanted it to be over with. If I would have just gone through with it, I wouldn't have never ended up here. I would be dead. The pain would be gone.
A door opened and a lady walked out. She had long, brown hair, back in a ponytail. She looked about 30. Her eyes, dark green, and her skin, covered in freckles.
"Briana?" she called.
I stood up and took a deep breath. I was trying so hard to hold the tears back as I walked up to her.
She looked at me and smiled. "Hello! Are you Briana?"
"Yeah," I said quietly.
"I'm Doctor Ana. It's nice to meet you," she said with a smile on her face.
I smiled back. "You too." She led me to a small room. There was a big window in the front. A bed in the middle, and a curtain in front. They had a TV in the corner, and a nurse out front, keeping an eye on me and the person in the room next to me. An older woman came in and gave me a hospital gown. She told me to change into it and showed me where I could set my clothes after.
After I got done changing into the gown, an older man came in. He had a weird machine like thing that he scanned over me. Apparently it was to check me for any metal. He asked if had any blades or anything that I could hurt myself or other with. I told him I didn't.
"Do you self harm?" the man asked.
"Umm... yeah," I stuttered.
"May I ask where?" he said kindly.
"On my wrists."
"May I take a look?"
I rolled up my sleeves and showed him the cuts down my wrists.
"Is that all?" he asked.
"Yes," I responded. Which was a complete lie. I didn't dare tell him about the cuts on my thighs. They were new, and there were so many. My legs were completely fucked up. Which is why I never wore shorts or skirts.
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About five minutes later, another lady walked in and asked me a bunch of questions. My mom was taken outside, to the waiting room. She asked me questions like what my triggers were, my coping skills and what my life was like at home and school...
