Corrupted

Chapter Fifteen

“Give me therapy, I’m a walking travesty, but I’m smiling and everything. Therapy, you were never a friend to me, you can keep all your misery.”

 

The words replay over and over in my head. It’s the only thing I can hear and it won’t stop. After I broke down on the bridge where Derek died, Gemma had called Adam and they both picked me up with me protesting and screaming for them to stop. They threw me in the car and when I tried to jump out of the moving vehicle on the highway, Adam held me down and that’s when they decided I need help.

He forced me into my room and tossed me on the bed, but I stopped fighting a long time ago. I just want to die and they keep telling me how important it is to live or some bullshit like that.  His parent’s sat me down and had a deep talk with me about my actions.

Mom: “Dylan, you are not getting any better.”

Dad: “You’re getting worse and we’re afraid you’re going to get so bad there won’t be any saving you this time.”

Me: “I don’t want to be saved.”

Mom: she sighs. “We’ve contacted a therapist by the name of Dr. Ledger. You’re going to your first session tomorrow morning. There will be no discussing this.”

 

So now, here I am standing in a hospital waiting room for Dr. Ledger to appear. The walls are tan, looking dull, which matches the feeling in here. You would think they would paint hospitals bright and pretty, to give people hope instead of making it match their moods. The window I’m sitting beside gives a perfect view of the parking lot, so I can see people enter and leave. Wonder how many people come in here a day, and why? Does that guy with the briefcase have a sick daughter in here? Is his wife having a daughter at the moment? There are just so many things in the world I ponder.

“Hayes.”

I whip my head around to the deep voice holding a clipboard. His tan sweater vest doesn’t go well with his beer belly or his white beard. His name tag reads Dr. Ledger and I roll my eyes at the man in front of me before standing to my feet and walking over to him.

“Hello, you must be Dylan,” he greets me.

“You must be here to fix all my problems,” I say bitterly.

Mrs. Wilson glares at me as she catches up. “Hi, I’m Virginia Wilson and my husband is Keith. He’s the one that called and made the appointment.”

“Nice to meet you,” he buds in to shake Dr. Fix It’s hand.

“Likewise. Well, shall we get started?” he questions.

They nod and drag me along to follow the man. If Derek were here he would make fun of his beer belly and then throw a paper wad at his head, and when we would get yelled at, he would become the snarkiest human being on this planet. I let out a laugh at the thought of him rolling his eyes at this man trying to talk to me about my problems and then smirking at me, like he always did.

Dr. Ledger gives me a side glance. “Something funny, sir?” he asks.

I come back into reality and glare at him for bringing me out of my small moment with Derek, since it’s the only time I get to see him now: in my head. “No,” I grumble.

We walk down a small hallway and enter a small room to the right. A desk sits in the right corner with a couch pressed up against it and two chairs opposite of the couch. The room has a feeling to it like… like, I want to kill myself.

“Take a seat,” Dr. Fix It offers.

I chuckle at my nickname for him and plop down on the couch with Mrs. Wilson beside me and her husband beside her. I recoil into myself when she gives me an encouraging smile. I roll my eyes and sink lower down, wishing I were at Derek’s tree house instead of here.